Return to the Willows

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by Jacqueline Kelly


  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my husband, Rob Duncan, for his support and suggestions during the writing of this book. (He is, fortunately, a fan of the original.) Thanks to my parents, especially to my mother, for her excellent proofreading skills. Thanks to my writing group, The Fabs of Austin: Pansy Flick, Nancy Gore, Gaylon Greer, Jim Haws, Kim Kronzer, Diane Owens, and Lottie Shapiro. Thanks to my friends and relatives, Gwen Erwin, Elizabeth Sutherland, Val Brown, Lee Ann Urban, Carol Jarvis, Noeleen Thompson, Gary Cooke, and Robin Allen, for their support and comments.

  Thanks to Nigel “Badger” McMorris and the Kenneth Grahame Society, along with Rangi Ruru Girls’ School in Christchurch, New Zealand. Thanks to Dr. Joan Lasenby, Fellow of Trinity College, University of Cambridge.

  Thanks to Paula Corey and Julie Dunlap for allowing me the use of their lovely garden in Santa Fe, and to Lynne Roberts and Laurie Sandman for making this possible. Thanks to James and Lou Ann Bradley for the use of their cabin in the mountains.

  In writing this book, I sought the help of various experts. I hasten to add that any information I may have got wrong is entirely my fault, and not theirs. Thanks to Mr. Robert Noel, Lancaster Herald of the College of Arms, London, for advice regarding Toad’s coat of arms; to Mr. John Baker, Archivist, British Balloon & Airship Club, for advice on Toad’s balloon; to Mr. Ian Reinhardt, Catering Manager of Trinity College, Cambridge, for information regarding Toad’s postprandial wine. Thanks to Special Agents Byron San Marco, Shawn Kang, and Doug Kunze of the Austin, Texas, office of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, for their advice on pyrotechnics and constructing a mortar. Those readers who are actually interested in building a mortar (just a small one, now), or a trebuchet or potato cannon, are referred to Backyard Ballistics by William Gurstelle.

  Thanks to my editor, Laura Godwin, and Kate Butler and April Ward at Henry Holt Books for Young Readers, and thanks to my agent, Marcy Posner of Folio Literary Management. Thanks to Clint G. Young, for his wonderful new illustrations, and to the Austin chapter of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, for introducing us.

  And, of course, my eternal gratitude to the peerless Kenneth Grahame, whose immortal tale of friendship has enchanted so many readers, in so many lands, for so many years. We will meet him at the River, where he lives on forever.

  Henry Holt and Company, LLC

  Publishers since 1866

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  New York, New York 10010

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  Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.

  Text copyright © 2012 by Jacqueline Kelly

  Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Clint Young

  All rights reserved.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kelly, Jacqueline.

  Return to the willows / by Jacqueline Kelly; illustrations by Clint Young.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-0-8050-9413-8 (hc)

  [1. Animals—Fiction.] I. Young, Clint, ill. II. Grahame, Kenneth, 1859–1932. Wind in the willows. III. Title.

  PZ7.K296184Re 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2011041298

  First Edition—2012

  eISBN 978-1-4668-2193-4

  1. Reader, while it’s true that there’s nothing better in the world than good poetry, there’s also nothing worse than bad poetry.

  2. Ergo: Latin for “therefore.” The Swift is being a show-off, and nobody likes a show-off.

  3. Try and avoid telling people so. They don’t like it, and it will win you no friends.

  4. Making book: taking bets. Now aren’t you glad you’ve got helpful commentary? You probably thought you didn’t need it, right?

  5. This is a metaphor, a figure of speech, in which you say one thing but actually mean another in order to describe it in a new and colorful way. The lists are the fields where knights jousted, waving their lances and thundering at each other on great, heavy horses. Therefore, to say that one is going into the lists means that one is facing a difficult trial.

  6. This is not what you think it is. In matters nautical, a painter is a rope attached to the bow of a boat.

  7. Mole is absolutely correct about this.

  8. Reader, be not afraid. Mélange is a fancified French word that actually has a very simple meaning: the mixing of colors together. The French are always doing things like that, insisting on using a fancy word when a plain one will do nicely, thank you very much.

  9. Please forgive the length of this footnote, but many of these terms may be foreign to the American reader, so let me explain: The coconut shy is a carnival game in which you throw wooden balls at a row of coconuts in order to win one. The lucky dip consists of rummaging around up to your elbows in a vat full of sawdust for a small prize, after which your skin itches like mad for the rest of the day. A swingboat is a huge swing that can make several riders queasy simultaneously, often with interesting results. In some uncivilized parts of the world (which we shall not name), jam roly-poly is known as jelly roll. In those same uncivilized parts, spun sugar is known as cotton candy. Oh, I almost forgot, the hurdy-gurdy is an unsatisfactory cross between the accordion and the lute, incorporating the least desirable features of both instruments.

  10. Morris dancing consists of two lines of dancers dressed in brightly colored tunics, with ribbons wrapped around their legs, carrying sticks with more ribbons and bells. The main step seems to be simply hopping from one leg to the other. It is a folk custom that has been around for such a long time that people are afraid to point out how extremely silly the dancers look.

  11. French again. It just means being nice to your inferiors.

  12. The author wishes to reassure the reader that no toads were harmed in the making of this book.

  13. The pound referred to here is a unit of money, not a measure of weight.

  14. American: get a move on.

  15. “Bib and tucker” refers to one’s best clothes.

  16. Badger is speaking metaphorically (see footnote 5).

  17. Indeed. Or as they say in America, no kidding.

  18. Trencherman: an enthusiastic eater. This comes from the old days before people had proper plates, when they ate off wooden slabs called trenchers. These were also the days when big, shaggy dogs wandered through the banquet hall for people to wipe their hands on, sort of like mobile hand towels.

  19. A farthing is only one-fourth of a penny, a fairly useless sum.

  20. Leech is an old-fashioned word for “doctor” because, in the bad old days, they applied leeches to their patients to “drain out the bad blood.” So the next time you kick up a fuss about going to the doctor, think how much worse it could be.

  21. Toad is just blathering away here and making things up. If you look up these words, you’ll see what I mean.

  22. Sorry, I’m sick of it too, but fencing terms are always in French. It’s the custom.

  23. Mincemeat: minced meat, or, as it is called in America, hamburger.

  24. I’m sorry to report that certain authorities are upset with the author for divulging information about such things, and they prohibit any further—

  25. Cigar smoking is a filthy habit and not to be taken up under any circumstances.

  26. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW

  27.

  28. Pythagoras was a gentleman who lived in ancient Greece, long before you were born. He was a mathematician who came up with many original ideas about numbers.

  29. Euclid was also a gentleman who lived in ancient Greece. Also a mathematician. One wonders if the Greeks had nothing better to do with their time than sit around and dream up mathematical concepts that continue to vex young scholars to this day.

  30. Ditto. One bath day, Archimedes lowered himself into the tub and noted that the water level rose correspondingly. He is reported to have yelled, “Eureka!” which means “I’ve figured it out!” in ancient Greek. He leapt from the tub
and ran through the streets to advise the populace. History does not relate whether he paused to put on his dressing gown before doing so.

  31. Lot of that going around.

  32. These are some examples of the Great Big Questions, or GBQs. You may wonder why on earth anyone cares about such things. That is, in itself, an excellent question.

  33. Unfortunately, copyright law does not allow publication of the complete paper here. You readers of superior intellect and sufficient curiosity will have to track it down at your local library.

  34. Smoked and highly salted herring, often part of a hearty English breakfast. In a word, disgusting.

  35. A mortarboard is one of those flat, squarish hats you see at graduation ceremonies. At that time in Cambridge, professors and students wore caps and gowns over their suits as part of their normal daily attire.

  36. Baking soda is enormously useful in causing things to spew foam in amusing ways. For example, it is one of the essential ingredients in building a working model of a volcano. (But be sure to check with an adult first.)

  37. You may remember this small, bedraggled weasel from the first book. After the Battle of Toad Hall, he volunteered to deliver the invitations for the banquet that followed, which makes him a decent sort. For a weasel.

  38. Pinching: stealing.

  39. Don’t be lazy, you can look this one up yourself. Go on. The rest of us don’t mind waiting for you.

  40. Nothing distresses weasels quite as much as sticky fur; it drives them quite around the bend.

  41. Biscuits: cookies. To further confuse the issue, what Americans refer to as biscuits are actually more like scones.

  42. Nicking: slang for stealing. And gaol is pronounced “jail,” despite the way it’s spelled.

  43. Derisive slang for a gentleman, or someone who thinks he is.

  44. Punt: a small boat used in shallow water. It is propelled by a person standing on a platform at the back and pushing it with a long pole.

  45. The American version is “can’t row for beans.”

  46. The author leaves this up to the reader.

  47. His mother is a prolific knitter. You do know what prolific means, right?

  48. Rabbits just live in that state, poor devils.

  49. American: dig in.

  50. Cricket is a sport whose closest American relative is baseball (a third cousin twice removed). It is an ancient game with so many strange and convoluted rules that not even professional umpires understand them all. Entire books have been written trying to explain it. For example, here are some names of team positions: silly mid on, silly mid off, and deep backward square leg. And don’t get me started on the “leg before wicket” rule. It’s hopeless.

  51. When an object (such as a toad) is acted upon by an external force (such as a cricket ball), the velocity of the toad will change in proportion to the force of the ball applied to it.

  52. What he meant to quote was Pythagoras’s Theorem, see here. What he actually said was the punch line to an extremely old joke, which goes like this: [Oh, sorry. My editor is waving me on.]

  53. You out there, stop that giggling immediately. This means that there was no sign at all, not even a tiny one.

  54. Those of you who’ve spent the night in a haystack know that this is well nigh impossible. But for those of you who haven’t, well, think of the last time you got a haircut and a few of the tiny hairs went down your neck. Then multiply that by, oh, about ten thousand, and you get the general idea.

  55. The sun is like that.

  56. The answer to this question is, of course, “Why not you?” Life is simply not fair, and the sooner you get used to it, the easier things will go for you.

  57. A stile is a set of stairs over a wall. Farmers use them to cross from one fenced pasture to another.

  58. There is simply no excuse for such foul language, even if one is completely alone.

  59. If your parents inflict piano lessons on you, ignore this footnote. If they do not, an arpeggio is the breaking up of a chord so that the notes are played one after another instead of all at once.

  60. In England, the wedding reception is called the wedding breakfast, even if it’s held in the afternoon. Yes, I know that’s odd.

  61. Toad is referring to himself here in the third person. This is absolutely insufferable and not to be indulged in by anyone. Ever.

  62. Plinth: the base or pedestal upon which a statue is placed.

  63. Remember the footnote? The one about life being unfair?

  64. It appears to have slipped Toad’s mind that his nephew is an excellent reader (in fact, far better than Toad) and is perfectly capable of reading a bedtime story to himself.

  65. Tinker: an itinerant mender of pots and pans. You don’t see too many of them about these days, but they used to be thick on the ground. Today’s pots and pans must be better made.

  66. Do you remember this story from when you were young? About the mice deciding that the smart way to protect themselves from the cat was for one of them to put a bell on her collar? And how they all agreed it was a brilliant plan, right up to the moment when one of them had to volunteer for the job?

  67. American: jawbreaker.

  68. Reader, perhaps we should look away and allow them a moment of privacy.

  69. We could even forgive him for licking his fingers, although in truth this is a terrible habit and should never be indulged in among polite company. On your own is a different story.

  70. Right, all you children out there, stop laughing immediately. Toad is simply mimicking the sound of an old-fashioned car horn. He does this whenever he falls under the intoxicating spell of Speed.

  71. Alas, being deluded does not make it so.

  72. Per se: Latin for “in itself.”

  73. A little hungry. Not ravenously hungry, mind you, but more in need of, say, a light snack.

  74. This is awfully bad manners, but I think we can forgive the poor, wee toad under such harrowing circumstances, don’t you?

  75. Such a bother.

  76. Go on! (Meaning, you’re joking.)

  77. A conservatory is a room built of glass, which serves as a greenhouse and is filled with trees and delicate plants. It’s also a nice place to sit and take tea.

  78. Governor, a slang term of respect.

  79. You might think that only snakes can slither, but if you’ve ever seen a member of the Family Mustelidae in action, you’ll know what I mean. They are unbelievably bendy and pliable.

  80. I mean twittering in the old-fashioned sense. Stoats and weasels did not possess cell phones until much later.

  81. Sung, as you may have gathered, to the tune of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” However, what differentiates the weasel version is that there are an interminable number of verses, so many that even the weasels themselves get tired of it.

  82. Yes, I’m aware cake-onauts isn’t a real word, but under the circumstances, it should be, don’t you think?

  83. Oh, dear. This is such a very rude insult that it pains me to translate it, and I think we should just get on with our story.

  84. The author is disappointed to find that there is no specific word in the dictionary for a solid clump of Mustelidae frozen in place with treacle. The author, therefore, begs the reader’s indulgence and proposes the adoption of a new word to describe such a group: klumpf.

  85. A trebuchet is a large catapult invented in medieval times. It is useful for hurling heavy objects, such as watermelons.

  86. Ornithopter: an aircraft that has wings like a bird, and flies by flapping them up and down.

  87. He is still waiting to receive word back from the authorities, which makes one wonder if they’re not aware of his reputation regarding machinery.

 

 

 
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