The Merry Spinster: Tales of Everyday Horror(38)

After a moment, the cupboard door opened, and Toad crept out. He crawled along the floor until he was back at Mole’s feet.

“Toad,” Mole said sternly, “you promised to go back and clear Toad Hall of all your enemies who are living there, sleeping in your beds and drinking your tea. Why haven’t you done it?”

“Toad,” Rat said, “did you mean it when you promised you would go back and clear out Toad Hall, or were you telling a lie?”

“I didn’t,” Toad said. “Or, I mean, I didn’t tell a lie or make a promise either. I didn’t even know there was anybody else in my house until you told me, just now.”

“At the very least,” Mole said in an injured tone, “I would think you would want to go back to Toad Hall so you could invite Rat and myself over for tea, after all the hospitality I’ve shown you since you’ve been so ill.”

“I would so like to have tea,” Rat said, setting down his cup. “I haven’t had any tea in the longest time, and Mole hasn’t either—he’s been too busy worrying himself over you.”

“Toad,” Mole said, “you are a very good friend, only I wish you would tell the truth, because you always feel so sick when you tell lies. You did promise you would sweep Toad Hall clear of all your enemies, and I think it’s high time you got up off my parlor floor and went home to find out what was living there.”

“I know I didn’t,” Toad said. “I know I didn’t.”

“Then why do you feel so sick right now?” Mole asked.

“I don’t,” Toad said. “I don’t feel sick, I don’t, I don’t.”

“Then why can’t you stand back up?” Mole said. “And why does your head feel so funny?”

“I don’t know,” Toad said. “Maybe—”

“I think you are telling lies again. I think you would feel better if you told us the truth. Would you like to feel better?”

“Yes,” Toad said in a small misery voice.

“Would you like to be able to get up again?” Mole asked.

“Yes,” Toad said.

“I can’t hear you when you mumble, Toad,” Mole said. “Did you say yes?”

“Yes,” said Toad, turning his head.

“I would like it if you felt better and could get up again,” Mole said. “Wouldn’t you, Rat? Wouldn’t we all like it if Toad would tell us the truth and feel better?”

“I would,” Rat said.

“We both want you to feel better,” Mole said. “It makes us sick too when you tell lies.”

“I feel terribly sick,” Rat said, pouring himself another cup. “Every time Toad tells a lie, I feel sick.”

“I’m sorry I told you a lie, Rat,” Toad said.

“Do you forgive him, Rat?” Mole said.

“I forgive him,” Rat said. “I forgive you, Toad.”

“Are you going to go to Toad Hall, and see all of Them who have been living there and saying such hateful things about you, and about all the things they would like to do to you if they got their hands on you, and keep your promise, Toad?” Mole asked. “You don’t have to say yes again if it hurts to talk. You can just nod.”

Toad nodded.

“Are you going to start now?” Mole asked.

Toad nodded.

“Do you need help getting up, so you can start keeping your promise?” Mole asked.

Toad nodded, and his friends helped him get up. He only wobbled a little as he went out the front door.





NINE

Cast Your Bread Upon the Waters

Aquinas says passion deserves neither praise nor blame, and I have no quarrel with that. If acedia, that noonday demon, is a kind of passion—a species of sadness, as the Damascene says—then it is no sin in itself. Yet surely passions can be blameworthy when attached to unworthy objects. Surely the immoderation of such spiritual torpor, if left unchecked, is, if not yet full sin in bloom, at least the error that may in time lead to sin. For our story, it all led to sin in the end, and it all began with the listlessness and self-forgetting that comes not from God.

*

The woman, in this instance, was wicked, and the man was stupid. That is not always the case between women and men, but that is how it ever was with the two of them. There came a great wickedness out of a small fault; I saw it with my own eyes. Together they committed a wickedness that has left me with six children to bring up in my old age, when I should be preparing myself for a crown and glory. Had I known what would come of it, I would have smothered Johnnie Croy in his crib before he ever grew into a man. But I never had the right to kill him until he sinned a great sin, of course.

There are six eternal sins that defy the Holy Ghost and merit Hell: Despair, or believing that one’s own sin is more powerful than divine grace; Presumption, seeking pardon without repentance or glory without worthiness; Resistance, to truth; Envy of the spiritual glory of a brother or resenting the increase of grace in the world; Impenitence, or not repenting of a sin already committed; Obstinacy, willfully intending to grow further in sin.

Johnnie was tall and well formed, and people liked to look at him and to listen to him talk. He had a fine voice, warm and rumbling, and it made you smile to hear it. I liked him fine myself, but I did not mistake any of his talents for virtue. The Lord sees not as man sees, but looks on the heart.