His fears did not impress Helen the agile. "When you are able to play without your crutch," she promised him, "I shall fly with delight." "Like an aeroplane?" inquired Charles Augustus with great seriousness. They left him standing upon the shore. As they paddled away he was leaning on his crutch, watching something. Suddenly he made a hopping dart and dropped to the ground. Instantly he was up again, shouting triumphantly, "Look--look at the old bullfrog I caught." He held the slimy creature aloft, by one of its legs, for the admiration of the girls and asked, "Do you think that my mother will let me take him to New York with me?" "Ask her," suggested the diplomatic Helen. Notwithstanding the happy outcome of her efforts to help Charles Augustus, Virginia was very silent and preoccupied that evening. "That child is homesick," Aunt Kate thought, as she kissed her good night and watched her slowly ascend the stairs, candlestick in hand. As Virginia undressed, she was very thoughtful. She went over to the dresser and, holding Mrs. Henderson's letter close to the candle's flame, re-read it. There was a wistful, helpless look in her face when she was ready to climb into bed. "Oh, Daddy, Daddy," she whispered sadly, "please believe as mother did, so that I can come back home." An hour afterwards she fell asleep upon a pillow moistened with tears. The two girls were at the station in the morning to say good bye to Charles Augustus and his mother as they departed for New York. Before the train left Charles Augustus complained to Helen, "Mother wouldn't let me take my frog to New York." "That is too bad," commiserated the deceitful Helen. "Mother said that the frog wouldn't care for New York. He might get lonesome there." Helen gravely considered the problem. "Your mother is right, Charles. A frog would find few friends and little amusement in New York." Virginia bade Mrs. Curtis good bye at the car steps. "You will write and tell us about everything, won't you?" she begged. The older woman embraced her. "Good bye," she murmured. "Words can't tell what I would say to you, dear. Of course I will write." Again the days passed and the best of news came from New York. The operation was performed and the twisted muscles worked into place. The surgeon was confident of the success of his efforts and felt sure that, at the worst, Charles Augustus would only have a slight limp which would disappear with age. Yet Virginia was not happy. Very sweet she was and thoughtful of others; but she was serious and often, too, a look of sadness rested on her face. Aunt Kate watched her with the vigilant eye of a mother in those days. One afternoon she discovered her niece alone in the hammock, viewing the pond with a melancholy countenance. "Land sakes, that child is moping again," she groaned. Leaving her work, she joined the girl and commanded, "Tell me your thoughts, Virginia?"