Linda looked up and felt color coming into her cheeks in the novel desire to laugh.
"How does he do it?"
"Like this." The round light eyes gained a spark of interest as Blanche Aurora began describing large circles in the air with her right hand, and advancing toward the table with a stealthy tread. As she approached, the circles contracted gradually, until close to the guest they had narrowed to a small ring out of which the hand made a jab toward the victim's face, and Linda jerked her head back.
Blanche Aurora smiled in triumph and returned to her place.
"I—I really thought you had my nose!"
"That's jest it. Ye see the frog's got to look so many directions, he don't know which way to jump, so he's jest kind o' par'lyzed and gits ketched."
"Very ingenious," laughed Linda.
Yes, she laughed. Blanche Aurora, unconscious that she had performed a feat eclipsing Cy Benslow's, warmed to her theme.
"And you jest ought to see him git worms for bait."
"Now, Blanche Aurora, it was bad enough to be a frog. I positively decline to be a worm."