“Now you are showing your good sense,” said Mr. Rana, as Ruth settled herself with a ready-to-listen air. “Nothing can be more interesting than my story; but excuse me one second. I see Mrs. Mosquito. This morning I ate her husband, and now——” His sentence was not finished, but Mrs. Mosquito was; and Mr. Rana folded his hands across his fat stomach and looked at Ruth, while a big smile played about his broad mouth. [Illustration: “THAT NICE FAT TOAD IN THE GARDEN”] “She’s gone,” said Ruth, in a slightly awed tone, “and I know you’ve swallowed her, but I wish you would tell me how you did it. I didn’t see you move.” [Illustration: “‘I DIDN’T MOVE, BUT MY TONGUE DID’”] “I didn’t move, but my tongue _did_, and it went so quick you couldn’t see it. When you eat, you bring things to your tongue, but when I eat, I send my tongue to my dinner. It’s a simpler way, I think. My tongue is rather wonderful too. It is fastened to my mouth in front, and rolled back; besides, it has a sort of glue on the end that catches whatever there is to catch. The number of pests I eat in a day would astonish you. Slugs, grubs, snails, mosquitoes, and—well, what’s the matter? You don’t like such things, I suppose. Tastes differ, you see. Now, to tell my story. What do you think I looked like when I was first hatched?” “A tadpole, of course,” answered Ruth. “I’ve seen lots of tadpoles. They are funny, wiggly things.” “They _are_ lively fellows,” agreed Mr. Rana, swallowing several times, while Ruth silently watched the sides of his neck puff out. “Please tell me why you swallow so much,” she asked at last. “You are not eating, are you?” Mr. Rana smiled, and this time the smile went all around his mouth. “I swallow to breathe,” he answered. “I can’t swallow air while my mouth is open, and so I stop talking and shut it. Every time I swallow, the air sac on the side of my neck fills out. That’s why my voice has such a lovely croak. My poor wife hasn’t any air sac, so her voice is never croaky.” “But in the water——” began Ruth.