“Don’t you hear me?” Solomon Owl shouted, as he struggled with his new
coat, only to become tangled in it more than ever.

Still, the tailor said never a word, though something very like a giggle,
followed by a splash, caught Solomon’s ear.

“He’s left me!” Solomon Owl groaned.

“Mr. Frog has left me to get out of this coat alone. And goodness knows
how I’m ever a-going to do it.” He threshed about so vigorously that he
tripped himself and fell upon the bank of the brook, rolling over and over
toward the water.

He had a very narrow escape. If he hadn’t happened to bring up against an
old stump he would certainly have tumbled into the stream.

Though Solomon couldn’t see, he knew that he was in danger. So he lay on
his back on the ground and carefully tore his new coat into strings and
ribbons.

At last he was free. And he rose to his feet feeling very sheepish, for he
knew that Mr. Frog had played a sly trick on him.

“Nevermind!” said Solomon Owl, as he flew way. “I’ll come back to-morrow
and ask Mr. Frog to make me a waistcoat and trousers. And then——” He did
not finish what he was saying. But there is no doubt that whatever it was,
it could not have been very pleasant for Mr. Frog.

Just as he had planned, Solomon Owl returned to the brook the next day.
And he was both surprised and disappointed at what he found.