TOADY.
Violet passed such long, long, busy days, talking all the time to her
mother, her kitten, her toads, or the birds that alighted now and then
upon a bush, and sang to her while she worked; for Violet's mother,
though she gave her plenty of time to play, had taught her little girl
to sew and read.
She might have forgotten to do this amid all her own hard work; but
fairy Contentment whispered in her ear that, unless Violet became useful
and industrious, _she_ must fly away, never to return; and Love, close
by, sang, "See--I have brought her these books; and I'll make the
learning easy."
I told you that some of Violet's playfellows were toads--the same ugly
brown toads you have seen hopping about your own garden walks. You must
not think they were ugly to her; for, soon as they came in sight, it
always happened that the shadow of Love's purple wings would fall upon
them, and then their brown backs changed to crimson and violet, and the
poisonous-looking spots became jewelled studs; and I will not say they
were very graceful pets even then; but Violet loved them, and they loved
her.
This is the way their acquaintance began: It was a hot day--blazing hot;
so light too--not a shadow to be seen. Violet had been in the garden at
work, and, as she hastened homeward through the scorching sun, almost
fell over a great toad, that had been crossing the path, but was so
dusty she had mistaken him for a stone or a ball of earth.
She stooped to see if she had injured him, and patting the toad's back,
said,--
"You poor little dirty fellow, don't you know enough to keep out of the
sun and dust?"
Toady looked up at her as if he would answer if he did but know how to
talk; he only opened and shut, opened and shut, his great wide mouth;
but Violet understood very well what he meant by this; for the fairy
Love teaches a language that is not set down in books or studied in
colleges. I have known of great scholars, who could talk in twenty or
thirty different tongues, and who yet knew less about this language of
Love, which is the very best in the whole wide world, than our poor
little barefooted Violet.
"You're thirsty, are you, toady?" said she; "stand still, and I'll give
you a drink."
The toad opened his mouth again, and Violet poured over him a few drops
she had left in her watering pot. She was half afraid he would not be
very well pleased with such a showering; but there he stood, stock
still, blinking his round red eyes, and opening his mouth at her as if
he would say, "More--more!"
"Well, wait," she said, laughing; "I'll go to the brook and bring you
more water in welcome, just for the sake of seeing your face clean
once."
Away she ran, and toady not only waited for her, but, when she came
back, there, one on each side of him, were two smaller toads--the three
ranged in a row, looking so sober and funny that Violet laughed louder
than ever.
She sprinkled the poor dusty toads all over with cool, bright water from
the mountain brook; and when they had enough, they began to shake their
heads and hop away, without even saying, "Thank you," and hid themselves
in the grass.