ryboi aint that a joly naim are as good as gold to
us. we as prairs nite and mornin an no end o witls an as appy as kings
and kueens a-sitin on there throns. give all our luv to deer father, an
etty an baiby an mis mukferson an mister olland an all our deer
teechers. sai we'll never forgit wot they told us. your deer sun Bobby."

"Isn't it beautiful?" said Mrs Frog, wiping away a tear with the sock
she was darning in preparation for her husband's return.

"Yes, mother. Bless the people that sent 'im out to Canada," said
Hetty, "for he would never have got on here."

There came a tap to the door as she spoke, and Mrs Twitter, entering,
was received with a hearty welcome.

"I came, Mrs Frog," she said, accepting the chair--for there was even a
third chair--which Hetty placed for her, "to ask when your husband will
be home again."

Good Mrs Twitter carefully avoided the risk of hurting the poor woman's
feelings by needless reference to jail.

"I expect him this day three weeks, ma'am," replied Mrs Frog.

"That will do nicely," returned Mrs Twitter. "You see, my husband
knows a gentleman who takes great pleasure in getting con--in getting
men like Ned, you know, into places, and giving them a chance of--of
getting on in life, you understand?"

"_Yes_, ma'am, we must all try to git on in life if we would keep in
life," said Mrs Frog, sadly.

"Well, there is a situation open just now, which the gentleman--the same
gentleman who was so kind in helping us after the fire; you see we all
need help of one another, Mrs Frog--which the gentleman said he could
keep open for a month, but not longer, so, as I happened to be passing
your house to-night on my way to the Yard, to the mothers' meeting, I
thought I'd just look in and tell you, and ask you to be sure and send
Ned to me the moment he comes home."

"I will, ma'am, and God bless you for thinkin' of us so much."

"Remember, now," said Mrs Twitter, impressively, "_before_ he has time
to meet any of his old comrades. Tell him if he comes straight to me he
will hear something that will please him very much. I won't tell you
what. That is my message to him. And now, how is my Mita? Oh! I need
not ask. There she lies like a little angel!" (Mrs Twitter rose and
went to the crib, but did not disturb the little sleeper.) "I wish I saw
roses on her little cheeks and more fat, Mrs Frog."

Mrs Frog admitted that there was possible improvement in the direction
of ros