“‘I’M RIGHT OVER HERE IN THE SHADE’”
“Oh, dear, he’s gone!” sighed Ruth.
“Yes, and good riddance,” croaked a voice that was not Mr. Rana’s.
Ruth looked around quickly.
“It’s nice having things talk to you,” she said, “but it keeps you jumping.”
“Use your eyes, and you wouldn’t have to jump,” went on the same voice. “I’m right over here in the shade. My blood’s cold, and I can’t stand the hot sun.”
It was her friend the garden toad. Ruth could see him plainly now. He looked more puffy than ever, as he sat under the bushes, swelling his leathery throat with importance. “If my cousin can talk to you I guess I can too,” he added. “I’m Mr. Bufo, and I’m quite as interesting as he is.”
Ruth was only too willing to agree to this, though, as she whispered to Belinda, she thought frogs and toads had very good opinions of themselves.
“I have a wife,” croaked Mr. Bufo when Ruth had sat herself on the ground close to him, “a worrying wife. Do you know it’s a bad thing to have a worrying wife?”