Then he showed her a safe road out of that lonesome waste and brought her back to the abodes of men, where everybody was naturally very thankful to see Mabel once more in safety. Of the Jacky-Toad she said nothing, but he wafted himself in at her bedroom window when the house was asleep. He explained that he could travel very easily in a ginger-beer bottle or jam-pot, so Mabel packed him up in a marmalade-jar with a glass stopper. This she placed in a cardboard box full of heather, so the Jacky-Toad travelled to London next day in considerable comfort, though with little style.
Mabel kept her scholar in his jar. At night the Jacky-Toad was allowed to come out for instruction, and he sat beside Mabel’s bed while she taught him as much as he was capable of learning. He tried hard at first to collect information, but his memory was weak, and he had little or no common-sense. He was, however, sufficiently humble, which is a rare virtue in a fool. He confessed himself to be scarcely better than an idiot, though sometimes he grew more hopeful.
“I do make way,” he declared on one occasion, “though I allow ’tis blamed slow.”
“Your grammar’s too frightful for anything,” said Mabel, “but we must be content with one subject at a time, I suppose. You chose geography, so we’ll struggle on with that until you’ve got a smattering. D’you remember what I taught you last night about the Duchy of Baden?”
“Lemme see if I can call it home. Ess! ’Tis like this: ‘The Duchy of Baden lies a’most entirely between the Kingdom o’ Wurtemberg and the River Rhine. The climate be healthy, but the winters are mighty cold in the Black Forest.’ How be that?”
“Fairly right—only you’ve left out such a lot.”
“Shall ’e larn me much more geography?”
“Ever so much—tons more.”
“That’s ill news, ’cause I doubt if I can hold much more.”