With a pleasant swirl of quiet water at its blunt bow the barge slid up alongside of him, its gaily painted gunwale level with the towing-path, its sole occupant a big stout woman wearing a linen sunbonnet, one brawny arm laid along the tiller.

“A nice morning, ma’am!” she remarked to Toad, as she drew up level with him.

“I dare say it is, ma’am!” responded Toad politely, as he walked along the towpath abreast of her. “I dare say it is a nice morning to them that’s not in sore trouble, like what I am. Here’s my married daughter, she sends off to me posthaste to come to her at once; so off I comes, not knowing what may be happening or going to happen, but fearing the worst, as you will understand, ma’am, if you’re a mother, too. And I’ve left my business to look after itself⁠—I’m in the washing and laundering line, you must know, ma’am⁠—and I’ve left my young children to look after themselves, and a more mischievous and troublesome set of young imps doesn’t exist, ma’am; and I’ve lost all my money, and lost my way, and as for what may be happening to my married daughter, why, I don’t like to think of it, ma’am!”