This was low and resonant and solemn. Ardelia scowled.
“Wha’s ’at?” she asked again.
“That’s the frogs. Bull-frogs and peepers. Never heard them, either, did ye? Well, that’s what they are.”
William took his pipe out of his mouth.
“Come here, sissy, ’n I’ll tell y’ a story,” he said lazily.
Ardelia obeyed, and glancing timorously at the shadows, slipped around to his side.
“Onc’t they was an ol’ feller comin’ ’long cross-lots, late at night, an’ he come to a pond, an’ he kinder stopped up an’ says to himself, ’Wonder how deep th’ ol’ pond is, anyhow?’ He was just a leetle—well, he’d had a drop too much, y’ see——”
“Had a what?” interrupted Ardelia.
“He was sort o’ rollin’ ’round—he didn’t know just what he was doin’——”
“Oh! Jagged!” said Ardelia comprehendingly.