t dragon you tell me of, that devastated Rhodes--I am the good
knight that shall kill it."

Monsieur the Preceptor laughed heartily. "You are misled by a vulgar
error. Toads do not bite--they have no teeth; neither do they spit
poison."

"You are wrong, Monsieur," said the Viscount; "I have seen their teeth
myself. Claude Mignon, at the lodge, has two terrible ones, which he
keeps in his pocket as a charm."

"I have seen them," said the tutor, "in Monsieur Claude's pocket. When
he can show me similar ones in a toad's head I will believe.
Meanwhile, I must beg of you, Monsieur, to put up your sword. You must
not kill this poor animal, which is quite harmless, and very useful in
a garden--it feeds upon many insects and reptiles which injure the
plants."

"It shall not be useful, in this garden," said the little Viscount,
fretfully. "There are plenty of gardeners to destroy the insects, and,
if needful, we can have more. But the toad shall not remain. My
mother would faint if she saw so hideous a beast among her beautiful
flowers."

"Jacques!" roared the tutor to a gardener who was at some distance.
Jacques started as if a clap of thunder had sounded in his ear, and
approached with low bows. "Take that toad, Jacques, and carry it to
the _potager_. It will keep the slugs from your cabbages."

Jacques bowed low and lower, and scratched his head, and then did
reverence again with Asiatic humility, but at the same time moved
gradually backwards, and never even looked at the toad.

"You also have seen the contents of Monsieur Claude's pocket?" said
the tutor, significantly, and quitting his hold of the Viscount, he
stooped down, seized the toad in his huge finger and thumb, and strode
off in the direction of the _potager_, followed at a respectful
distance by Jacques, who vented his awe and astonishment in alternate
bows and exclamations at the astounding conduct of the incomprehensible
Preceptor.

"What is the use of such ugly beasts?" said the Viscount to his tutor,
on his return from the _potager_. "Birds and butterflies are pretty,
but what can such villains as these toads have been made for?"

"You should study natural history, Monsieur--" began the priest, who
was himself a naturalist.

"That is what you always say," interrupted the Viscount, with the
perverse folly of ignorance; "but if I knew as much as you do, it
would not make me understand why such ugly creatures need have been
made."

"Nor," said the