“But Speckles interrupted her thought by calling her attention to an old decayed log under which he had just burrowed.
“‘Spot—come quick! A fine mess of bugs here!’
“And Spot jumped over to gorge herself on the feast—almost as delicious a feast as in the dream, but far more satisfying than the dream-feast had been.
“Spot then made her way carefully down the muddy bank and waddled out to water that reached to her nose. The rest of her body was submerged. There she sat all night, listening to the singing of the male toads who serenaded their mates on the banks, while their wives were attending to family duties.
“Speckles sang and sang, too, as he sat on the grassy bank just above Spot where she was laying the yearly batch of eggs.
“At the first streak of dawn, Speckles whispered: ‘Spot, the day is breaking—we must away to our home.’
“Spot scrambled out at that, and followed her mate to the woods, saying as she went: ‘I wish we could have a grand family reunion this year, Speckles. When the new eggs hatch out into polliwogs, I would like to have our children of last year come home and meet the babies.’
“‘That is a silly mother’s sentiment! I suppose our large family of last year is well-scattered in every direction this year.’
“Spot said nothing but sighed for she knew how useless it was to wish an impossible wish!
“Some time after this event, the eggs laid by Spot that lovely moonlight night, hatched into queer little black things with but two legs and a slippery tail. Some of the saucy polliwogs whisking about in the outside creek jeered: