ooking eagerly
over Betty's shoulder.

"All right," said Betty moodily, and she went round to the part of the
pond Kitty had left, where she almost immediately caught two tadpoles
and a newt.

"Look there!" she cried, holding up her net triumphantly.

"Oh!" screamed Kitty, "you _are_ lucky. _Do_ let me try," and she
rushed up to Betty's side and seized hold of the net. But this was too
much. Betty let go of the handle and said indignantly, "I shan't fish
any more. You're so unfair; you always are!" And she walked away in a
rage. "Kitty is more tiresome than ever," she said to herself. "She
spoils everything. I wish she would go away!"

All that day she preserved an attitude of dignified sulkiness in spite
of Kitty's frequent attempts to make it up. When she came and threw her
arm round her, Betty shook it off impatiently.

That evening the three little girls were in the woods with dear Miss
Grey and baby Susie, who was just three years old. Betty was walking a
little behind the others with her eyes fixed on the ground. It was damp
and mossy, and there was a thick growth of ferns and underwood at the
side of the path. Suddenly she saw something move quickly through this,
and disappear down a hole. She stopped and moved aside the ferns and
moss. What do you think she saw sitting comfortably in the hole and
staring at her with its moist bright eyes?

A large speckled toad!

"Look, look, Miss Grey!" she cried, and everyone gathered round to see
what she had found. Even Susie peered into the hole, and poked a bit of
fern gently at the toad, which sat there gazing quietly at them.

"What a jolly little home he's made for himself!" said Martha. "All
soft and moist, and just exactly to fit him."

"He can't see out much," said Betty as she put back the moss gently over
the top.

"I don't think he wants to," said Miss Grey. "He is quite satisfied,
like many other people who live in holes."

The children ran on through the wood, except Betty, who kept back and
took hold of Miss Grey's hand.

"What do you mean about living in holes?" she asked presently.

"Well, you know, we all live in holes of one kind or another. Some are
rough and some smooth, some fit us exactly, and some don't fit us at
all. Some are softly-lined with all sorts of comforts, and some are
full of pricks and troubles. And it is always very difficult to see out
of them."

"Why?" asked Betty.

"Because, like the toad's hole