Dexter waited for a moment, and then softly began to scratch its side, the result evidently being so satisfactory to the toad that it began by leaning over toward the rubbing fingers, and then more and more, as if the sensation were agreeable in the extreme.
A little coaxing then induced it to crawl slowly into its master’s hand, which it more than filled, sitting there perfectly contented till it was placed in another pickle-jar to feed, this one being furnished with wood-lice, pill millipedes, and other luxuries dear to a toad.
The striking of a clock roused Dexter from his communings with his pets, and hastily restoring them to their various habitations, he resumed his jacket, and after a quick glance round descended the steps.
“I couldn’t take them with me,” he said sadly, as he stood for a few minutes in the old dark stable; “and if I left them without setting them at liberty they would all die.”
Chapter Twenty Six.
The Growing Cloud.
“Dexter, I want to talk to you,” said Helen, a few weeks later. The boy sighed.
“Ah! you are afraid I am going to scold you,” she said.