at to do. I certainly
don't want to carry them about with me for the rest of my life." He
looked unhappy, to say the least. He knew that probably he would live a
great many years longer. And he was puzzled.

"Why don't you get a new shell?" Peter Mink inquired.

"I'd hate to do that," Timothy Turtle told him. "I've had this one a
long time; and it fits me perfectly."

"Then why don't you get the well-known tailor, Mr. Ferdinand Frog, to
make you a coat that will cover your back? If you did that, nobody could
see what's on your shell."

"A good idea!" Timothy Turtle exclaimed. "I'll see Mr. Frog at once. And
some day I'll do something handsome for you, because you've been a
great help to me."

"Why wait?" Peter Mink demanded. "Why don't you do it now?" Knowing that
Timothy was stingy, Peter thought that the old gentleman would soon
change his mind about "doing something handsome" for him.

"No!" Timothy Turtle declared. "I want to wait a while and think it
over."

"Well, then," Peter Mink urged him, "why don't you crawl under that
shelving rock and think it over right now?"

"You ask too many questions," Mr. Turtle told him. "And besides, I must
hurry away and find Ferdinand Frog. I want my new coat as soon as I can
get it. And the longer I stay here, the more time I shall lose." So in
spite of all Peter Mink could say, Timothy slipped into Black Creek and
swam away.

XIX

CAREFUL MR. FROG

Somebody had knocked. And with a wide smile upon his face Mr. Ferdinand
Frog, the tailor, went to his door and peeped out.

One look was enough. He shut the door again with great haste and barred
it. And he held one hand over his heart, as if he had just received a
terrible fright.

"Let me in!" somebody called. The tailor knew that it was Timothy
Turtle's voice, for he had seen that crusty old person standing upon his
doorstep.

"Go away!" Mr. Frog replied. "I'm not here."

He was an odd chap--this Ferdinand Frog. One never could tell what he
was going to do--or say.

"Yes, you are!" Timothy Turtle insisted. "I saw you only a moment ago."

The tailor then peered out of the window at his caller.

"There you are now!" Timothy shouted, as he caught sight of Mr. Frog. "I
say, let me in!"

"I can't," Mr. Frog answered. "I'm sick a-bed."

"Nonsense!" Timothy cried.

"Well, I expect I'll be ill if you don't go away," the tailor answered.
"I'm having a nervous chill this very moment."

He was afraid of