mong the lily pads near the shore. He
had a deep, powerful bass voice, which one could hear a mile or more
across the water on a still evening.

Often he dressed himself with the greatest care and went to the lake
alone, where he stayed half the night and sang so loudly that a good
many of the wild folk who lived in the neighborhood thought him a great
nuisance. Not caring for music, they objected to being forced to listen
to Ferdinand Frog's favorite songs.

"Why don't you go over to Cedar Swamp, if you want to make a noise?" one
of the Beaver family who was known as Tired Tim asked Mr. Frog one
evening. "You have come here for nine nights running; and your racket
has upset me so that I haven't done a stroke of work in all this time."

Mr. Frog had puffed himself up and had just opened his mouth to begin a
new song. But upon being spoken to so rudely he closed his mouth quickly
and swallowed several times. For just a second or two he was speechless,
he was so surprised. And then presently he began to giggle.

"I believe you," he said. "I believe that you haven't done a stroke of
work for ninety nights." He knew--as did everybody else--that Tired Tim
was the laziest person for miles around.

"I said nine--not ninety," Tired Tim corrected him.

"Oh! My mistake!" Mr. Frog replied.

"You haven't answered my question," Tired Tim reminded him with a wide
yawn. "I asked you why you didn't attend the singing-parties over in
Cedar Swamp. You could croak your head off there and no one would stop
you."

But Mr. Frog shook his head. And at the same time, he sighed.

"No!" he said. "I'd rather sing here on the border of the lake. The
trouble is, _I sing too well_ for those fellows over in Cedar Swamp."

"Why don't you join them and teach them how to sing, if you know so much
about it?" Tired Tim persisted.

"Oh, I've no time for that," Ferdinand Frog answered.

And then it was his companion's turn to snicker.

"You appear to have plenty of time to waste here," he observed. "It's my
opinion that there's just one reason why you don't go to the Cedar Swamp
singing parties."

"What's that?" Mr. Frog inquired with a slight trace of uneasiness.

"They haven't invited you."

"How did you guess that?" Ferdinand Frog asked him.

He wished, the next moment, that he had not put that question to Tired
Tim. For he saw at once that he had given his sad secret away.

VI

TIRED TIM DOES A FAVOR

In spite of all Fer