“Yes, there is, too!” said Sophy, indignantly. “I’m not afraid of flies or butterflies or caterpillars—yes, I am afraid of caterpillars. They’re so fuzzy.” “There, you see there is hardly anything! As for flies and butterflies, why, of course a baby wouldn’t mind them.” “But what’s the use of those other things, Peter? What’s the use of wasps?” “Wasps! Why, they’re _very_ useful. They don’t hurt you unless you bother them, and they eat up slugs, and some kinds of caterpillars.” “Well, wasps are very frightening, I think, even if they are useful, and so are hop toads, and hop toads are so ugly! Oh, here comes one now! Go away, you horrid, naughty toad!” Peter and Sophy were on the piazza in the early twilight. Honor and Katherine were with the Madisons on the river, enjoying a picnic tea. Supper at Glen Arden was over, and Mrs. Wentworth Ward had walked to the village for her “constitutional,” which the hot weather had prevented during the day. Victoria had gone in search of Dave Carney, whom she thought she should be apt to find at liberty at this hour. It was the evening of the day upon which the robbery had been discovered. “There is no use in an ugly toad, Peter,” continued Sophy. “Indeed there is!” said her brother, in a tone of marked masculine superiority. “That just shows how little you know about things. Toads are regular policemen.” “Peter! What do you mean? Do they arrest people?” “No, of course not, you goosie! But they arrest insects. If you put toads into hotbeds or cold-frames, they’ll eat up all the bugs and worms that come after the plants. They keep regular guard, just as policemen do. There, do you hear that tree toad now?” Sophy listened to the shrill song of the little creature that appeared to be sitting upon the branch of a tree close by. “They’re as good as hop toads, for they eat caterpillars, and worms, and hateful flies that lay their eggs under the bark of the trees, and would eat up the trees if it were not for the toads.” “I’m glad they eat caterpillars as well as the wasps,” said Sophy. “They’re so disagreeable. Why do you suppose caterpillars were made, Peter?” “Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure. To eat up something else, I suppose, and to be food for toads. I’ll tell you another funny thing about hop toads. They never will touch a dead insect or bug or anything. They’ll only catch them alive. Isn’t that queer?” “How much you do know, Peter!” said his sister, admiringly. “I wish I knew as much as you do. I’m going to keep asking questions all my life, and then perhaps some day I shall know as much.” “You never will, for you are only a girl, and I’m a boy. You’ll never know as much as I do, for I shall always keep ahead of you. First place, I’m nearly five years older than you, and then, I’m a boy.”