I HAVE made many books about well-behaved people. Now, for a change, I
am going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called Tommy
Brock and Mr. Tod. Nobody could call Mr. Tod "nice." The rabbits could
not bear him; they could smell him half a mile off. He was of a
wandering habit and he had foxey whiskers; they never knew where he
would be next.
One day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice, causing terror to
the family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard
willow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.
In winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth
amongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.
He had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.
The houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved OUT; because
sometimes Tommy Brock moved IN; (without asking leave).
Tommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he
grinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp
nests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging
things up.
His clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always
went to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was
generally Mr. Tod's.
Now Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very
little young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He
was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked
otters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.
Old Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine
outside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.
He lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who
had a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that
afternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.
The little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes
and kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow
burrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.
Bouncer had forgotten them.
He sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was
passing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for
digging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the scarcity
of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And the otters
had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in winter--"I have not
had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living on pig-nuts. I shall
have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!" said Tommy Brock.
It was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy
Brock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.
So old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to
taste a slice of seed-cake and "a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip
wine." Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.
Then old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage
leaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more
than ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and
laughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.
And Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the
cabbage smoke..........
When Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock
and all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!
Mr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the
rabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were
round heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her
ears, and slapped him.
Benjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.
There was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark
and gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had
rooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole
for dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the
way. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps
showed plainly in the mud.
The path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;
there were leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths--but the smell
that made Benjamin stop, was not the smell of flowers!
Mr. Tod's stick house was before him and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home.
There was not only a foxey flavour in proof of it--there was smoke
coming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.
Benjamin Bunny sat up, staring; his whiskers twitched. Inside the stick
house somebody dropped a plate, and said something. Benjamin stamped his
foot, and bolted.
He never stopped till he came to the other side of the wood. Apparently
Tommy Brock had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there
were again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught
on a briar.
Benjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole
trap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was
getting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy
the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily
hunting for dandelions.--"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!"
shouted Benjamin Bunny.