“Could you do that now, Dexter!” said Helen suddenly.
“Do it?” he faltered.
“Yes; with the frog.”
“I haven’t got a bit of flat wood, and I have no stick, and if I had—I—you—I—”
He stopped short, with his head on one side, and his brows puckered up, gazing into Helen’s eyes. Then he looked down, at the frog, and back at Helen.
“You don’t mean it?” he said sharply. “You don’t want me to? I know: you mean it would hurt the frog.”
“Would it hurt you, Dexter, if somebody put you on one end of a plank, and then struck the other end!”
The boy took off his cap and scratched his head with his little finger, the others being closed round the frog, which was turned upside down.
“The boys always used to do it up at the House,” he said apologetically.
“Why!” said Helen gravely.