GRANDPA CROAKER DIGS A WELL


It happened, once upon a time when Mrs. No-Tail, the frog lady, went to
the pump to get some water for supper, that a little fish jumped out of
the pump spout and nearly bit her on the nose.

“Ha! That is very odd,” she said. “There must be fish in our well, and
in that case I think we had better have a new one.”

So that night, when Mr. No-Tail came home from the wallpaper factory,
where he stepped into ink and then hopped all over white paper to make
funny patterns on it—that night, I say, Mrs. No-Tail said to her
husband:

“I think we will have to get a new well.” Then she told him about the
fish from the pump nearly biting her, and Mr. No-Tail remarked:

“Yes, I think we had better have a new place to get our water, for the
fish in the old well may drink it all up.”

“Well, well!” exclaimed Grandpa Croaker in such a deep bass voice that
he made the dishpan on the gas stove rattle as loudly as if Bully or
Bawly were drumming on it with a wishbone from the Thanksgiving turkey.
“Let me dig the well,” went on the old gentleman frog. “I just love to
shovel the dirt, and I can dig a well so deep that no fish will ever get
into it.”

“Very well,” said Mr. No-Tail. “You may start in the morning, and Bully