EPILOGUE
THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS
It is spring again. The wind is whispering in the wil lows that fringe the river. Faintly we hear its elfin music. Among her daffodils lies MARIGOLD, in tumbled sleep. The dead leaves in the hollow rise and fall; they fall apart as an old gray BADGF.R heaves himself into the sunlight. Curiously he sniffs at MARIGOLD, and then lumbers away. A WATER-RAT twinkles out of his hole in the bank; a MOLE laboriously takes the air; they, too, pass the time of day with MARIGOLD before follow ing in the wake of the BADGER. Last of all comes a TOAD. "Ah, Marigold, Marigold/" and so, waddling jauntily, after the others . . .
But Nurse is getting impatient. From afar her voice comes to us.
NURSE
Marigold! Marigold! It's time we went, dear. (MARIGOLD sighs gently, and stirs a little in her sleep.)
- 15
