The Sandman's Hour: Stories for Bedtime. Abbie Phillips Walker
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Название: The Sandman's Hour: Stories for Bedtime
Автор: Abbie Phillips Walker
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Детская проза
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One morning she was crying as she walked along to school, because she wanted to stay at home, when she noticed a frog hopping along beside her.
"Why are you following me?" she asked, looking at him through her tears.
"Because you will soon form a pond around you with your tears," replied the frog, "and I have always wanted a pond all to myself."
"I shall not make any pond for you," said Tearful, "and I do not want you following me, either."
The frog continued to hop along beside her, and Tearful stopped crying and began to run, but the frog hopped faster, and she could not get away from him, so she began to cry again.
"Go away, you horrid green frog!" she said.
At last she was so tired she sat on a stone by the roadside, crying all the time.
"Now," replied the frog, "I shall soon have my pond."
Tearful cried harder than ever, then; she could not see, her tears fell so fast, and by and by she heard a splashing sound. She opened her eyes and saw water all around her.
She was on a small island in the middle of the pond; the frog hopped out of the pond, making a terrible grimace as he sat down beside her.
"I hope you are satisfied," said Tearful. "You have your pond; why don't you stay in it?"
"Alas!" replied the frog, "I have wished for something which I cannot use now that I have it. Your tears are salt and my pond which I have all by myself is so salt that I cannot enjoy it. If only your tears had been fresh I should have been a most fortunate fellow."
"You needn't stay if you do not like it," said Tearful, "and you needn't find fault with my tears, either," she said, beginning to cry again.
"Stop! stop!" cried the frog, hopping about excitedly; "you will have a flood if you keep on crying."
Tearful saw the water rising around her, so she stopped a minute. "What shall I do?" she asked. "I cannot swim, and I will die if I have to stay here," and then she began to cry again.
The frog hopped up and down in front of her, waving his front legs and telling her to hush. "If you would only stop crying," he said, "I might be able to help you, but I cannot do a thing if you cover me with your salt tears."
Tearful listened, and promised she would not cry if he would get her away from the island.
"There is only one way that I know of," said the frog; "you must smile; that will dry the pond and we can escape."
"But I do not feel like smiling," said Tearful, and her eyes filled with tears again.
"Look out!" said the frog; "you will surely be drowned in your own tears if you cry again."
Tearful began to laugh. "That would be queer, wouldn't it, to be drowned in my own tears?" she said.
"That is right, keep on smiling," said the frog; "the pond is smaller already." And he stood up on his hind legs and began to dance for joy.
Tearful laughed again. "Oh, you are so funny!" she said. "I wish I had your picture. I never saw a frog dance before."
"You have a slate under your arm," said the frog. "Why don't you draw a picture of me?" The frog picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground, and then he leaned on it with one arm, or front leg, and, crossing his feet, he stood very still.
Tearful drew him in that position, and then he kicked up his legs as if he were dancing, and she tried to draw him that way, but it was not a very good likeness.
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