“Sure!” answered her brother. “A frog is as clean as a fish, and all the water we drink has fishes in it.”
“Does it, Daddy?” asked Nan.
“Of course,” laughed Mr. Bobbsey. “The frog doesn’t hurt the water any.”
“Then I’ll take a drink,” decided Nan. And they all drank, finding the water cool—almost ice-cold, in fact—and delicious.
“Come ag’in any time ye like as long as ye don’t stone my frog,” invited the old woman.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
The automobile was much cooler by the time they went back to it, and pouring the cold spring water into the radiator enabled them to go on without further delay. Bert told Nan that, when he could find no water on his part of the road, he went back to the car and Mr. Bobbsey, and then the two of them went in search of Nan, who had walked a bit farther than her brother.
“She was a queer old character,” said Mr. Bobbsey, as he drove the machine along toward Hankertown. “Lives all alone, I guess, except for her giant frog.”
Later he learned that the woman, while considered partly crazy, was a good and harmless old soul with a horror of boys who might stone her frog—as, alas, many of the lads did.
Without further mishap Hankertown was reached, and Mr. Bobbsey decided to begin his inquiries at the railroad station, since it was there the little old lady in the faded shawl had left the train.