Toad was getting nearer and nearer to home, and still had on his washerwoman's disguise. (By now it was looking the worse for wear.) Presently he came to a tow-path, running alongside a canal. An old horse was plodding along it, pulling a gaily painted barge A big stout woman sat in it, her brawny arm along the tiller.
Toad saw the chance of a lift, so he told his tale of losing a purse and having to get back to the children. "I'll give you a lift as far as Toad Hall," the barge-woman bargained, "if you'll do my dirty washing for me." Toad had been boasting what a good washerwoman he was!
The barge-woman gave him a great pile of washing, some soap and clean water in a big tub. Toad had no idea how to set about it. Soon he was puffing and blowing and rubbing and dubbing, but the clothes were no cleaner.
The barge-woman took a closer look at him.
"You're no washerwoman!" she shrieked. "You're a dirty ugly toad - get off my nice clean barge!"