went on the questioner.

"No," said Bobby; "I don't."

"We have shown that you are not only useless, but careless and
thoughtless and ignorant," said the frog. "Is there any very good reason
why we should let you go?"

Poor Bobby racked his brains to think of something that should appeal to
his captors.

"I have a right to live, haven't I?" he said at last.

"Because you are so pretty?" suggested the professor, and Bobby's eyes
fell with shame.

"Any better right than we have?" came a chorus of voices. Bobby was
silent. He felt very helpless and insignificant. There was a long pause.
Then the frog professor smiled broadly at Bobby.

"Come," he said; "I like you. You are not afraid to be honest, and
that's something."

"If you will let me go," said Bobby, "I'll see that the boys don't hurt
you any more."

"I felt pretty sure that we'd converted you," said the professor; "and
I'm going to let you go back and preach to the heathen, as the grown
people say. You can see for yourself how much harm a boy can do if he
doesn't think."