But he learned them soon; for Solomon immediately dropped down from the
big willow and alighted on the bank near Mr. Frog—altogether _too near_
him, in fact, for the tailor’s comfort.

Solomon looked at Mr. Frog very solemnly. And he thought that he shivered.

“What’s the matter? Are you ill?” Solomon Owl inquired. “You seem to be
shaking.”

“Just a touch of chills and fever, probably!” replied Mr. Frog with an
uneasy smile. “You know it’s very damp here.”

“You don’t look in the best of health—that’s a fact!” Solomon Owl
remarked. “You appear to me to be somewhat green in the face.” And he
laughed once more—that same hollow, mirthless laugh.

Mr. Frog couldn’t help jumping, because the sound alarmed him.

“Don’t be disturbed!” said Solomon Owl. “I like all the Frog family.”

At that remark, Mr. Frog started violently That was exactly the trouble!
Solomon Owl was _altogether too fond_ of frogs, whether they were old or
young, big or little.

It was no wonder that Mr. Frog swallowed rapidly sixteen times before he
could say another word.