couldn't see what there was that the Merry Little Breezes could do. His
legs smarted where the string cut into the skin, and his head ached,
for you know he was hanging head down. No, Sir, Grandfather Frog
couldn't be comforted. He was in a terrible fix, and he couldn't see any
way out of it. He hadn't the least bit of hope left. And all the time
Farmer Brown's boy was trudging along, whistling merrily. You see, it
didn't occur to him to think how Grandfather Frog must be suffering and
how terribly frightened he must be. He wasn't cruel. No, indeed, Farmer
Brown's boy wasn't cruel. That is, he didn't mean to be cruel. He was
just thoughtless, like a great many other boys, and girls too.

So he went whistling on his way until he reached the Long Lane leading
from the Green Meadows up to Farmer Brown's dooryard. No sooner was he
in the Long Lane than something happened. A great cloud of dust and
leaves and tiny sticks was dashed in his face and nearly choked him.
Dirt got in his eyes. His hat was snatched from his head and went
sailing over into the garden. He dropped Grandfather Frog and felt for
his handkerchief to wipe the dirt from his eyes.

"Phew!" exclaimed Farmer Brown's boy, as he started after his hat. "It's
funny where that wind came from so suddenly!"

But you know and I know that it was the Merry Little Breezes working
together who made up that sudden wind. And Grandfather Frog ought to
have known it too, but he didn't. You see the dust had got in his nose
and eyes just as it had in those of Farmer Brown's boy, and he was so
frightened and confused that he couldn't think. So he lay just where
Farmer Brown's boy dropped him, and he didn't have any more hope than
before.