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Updated: June 3, 2025
Beardie on his hands and knees was peering down into the drain. Then he threw up his head with a savage roar. "My God! they've done old Toadie." He burst through the crowd at the boy, eyes and beard ablaze. Kit, tight-clutched in Fat George's arms, shut his eyes. There flashed before his mind a lonely figure, bound and buffeted in the palace of a high-priest eighteen hundred years ago.
Toadie Todson opened his fat eyes and dropped his mouth in an ugly laugh. It made him sick to see any one in such a hurry. Then the Honest Ant went scurrying past and very kindly gave him the same message. But Toadie only sneered the more. He had been living in this very spot for years, almost as many as you have lived, and nothing had ever happened to him.
The green inch-worm began to bore its way out of the sand; it could hear Toadie Todson groaning and saying: "O! O! I wish I'd never been so lazy. I might have lived an' been as happy and rich as the Bee or the Ant. And the green inch-worm knew that Toadie Todson was dead. Not more than six hours after this Mrs. Cricky overheard the green inch-worm practising a tune.
"Is that old Toadie you've got there?" called the Gentleman, crawling leisurely along. "It was." "What you doing to him?" "Killing him." "Ah, well," said the Gentleman, "I never cared much for old. Toadie. We weren't simpatico. If you care to wait a minute I'll " "Can't," gasped Kit. "No time. Now, boy, hurry!" Blob crawled out from beneath the dead man.
"Ah," came the treble again, "it wouldn't take me long to do somethin to him. See. Sow!" "Only you'd ave to get somebury to old is ands first," grumbled Red Beard. "Scream!" said the fat man, unheeding. "I'd make his soul talk." The brutal Toadie rumbled off into laughter. Brutes! But they knew nothing of the man-hole they were clustered round. The boy's heart soared.
It pleased her so much that she tried to sing it again to Father Cricky for the Marsh Grass Vesper Quartette. Of course it was all about Toadie Todson, and this was it: A Lament Very slowly Mournful, mournful notes, In our little throats we sing Flowers, flowers dead, For our Toadie's head we bring
She told all the little Cricketses that you couldn't expect to speak sullenly to people and have them like you, and that you couldn't expect to live away from the society of other people without having something killed in you. Mrs. Greenie, Toadie Todson's Green Inch-Worm, was measuring his way carefully around a birch tree.
Not that she was fulsome about it: Madame, in all things worldly, was in nothing weak; there was measure and sense in her hottest pursuit of self-interest, calm and considerateness in her closest clutch of gain; without, then, laying herself open to my contempt as a time-server and a toadie, she marked with tact that she was pleased people connected with her establishment should frequent such associates as must cultivate and elevate, rather than those who might deteriorate and depress.
Toadie Todson swelled with pride as the green inch-worm went measuring up and down, up and down his back. The Busy Bee just then flew buzzing by and buzzed to Toadie as he went: "There's a sand-slide rolling down this way. I'm getting out's fast as I can." When the Bee said sand-slide it sounded just like "Sz-sz-sz z-z-z-z ide."
The Quartette always gathered here about dusk upon a broad flat toad-stool which grew at the foot of a spreading oak. Mr. Tree Toad Todson had leased this toad-stool for the summer season from his first cousin, the unfortunate Toadie Todson.
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