dren had not hitherto specially
observed, came forward and stood in front of the others. He was bigger,
his colour was a brighter green, and his eyes more brilliantly red. He
stood up on his hind legs and bowed politely. Then, after clearing his
throat, of which there was much need, for even with this precaution it
sounded very croaky, he addressed the children.

"Monsieur and Mademoiselle," he began, "are very welcome to what we have
done for them--the small service we have rendered. Monsieur and
Mademoiselle, I and my companions"--"He should say, 'My companions and
I,'" whispered Jeanne--"are well brought up frogs. We know our place in
society. We disapprove of newfangled notions. We are frogs--we desire to
be nothing else, and we are deeply sensible of the honour Monsieur and
Mademoiselle have done us by this visit."

"He really speaks very nicely," said Jeanne in a whisper.

"Before Monsieur and Mademoiselle bid us farewell--before they leave our
shores," continued the frog with a wave of his "top legs," as Jeanne
afterwards called them, "we should desire to give them what, without
presumption, I may call a treat. Monsieur and Mademoiselle are,
doubtless, aware that in our humble way we are artists. Our
weakness--our strength I should rather say--is music. Our croaking
concerts are renowned far and wide, and by a most fortunate coincidence
one is about to take place, to celebrate the farewell--the departure to
other regions--of a songster whose family fame for many ages has been
renowned. Monsieur and Mademoiselle, to-night is to be heard for the
first time in this century the 'Song of the Swan.'"

"The song of the swan," repeated Hugh, rather puzzled; "I didn't know
swans ever sang. I thought it was just an old saying that they sing once
only--when they are dying."

The frog bowed.

"Just so," he said; "it is the truth. And, therefore, the extreme
difficulty of assisting at so unique a performance. It is but
seldom--not above half-a-dozen times in the recollection of the oldest
of my venerated cousins, the toads, that such an opportunity has
occurred--and as to whether human ears have _ever_ before been regaled
with what you are about to enjoy, you must allow me, Monsieur and
Mademoiselle, with all deference to your race, for whom naturally we
cherish the highest respect, to express a doubt."

"It's a little difficult to understand quite what he means, isn't it,
Cheri?" whispered Jeanne. "But, of course, we