The toad in the picture was exactly like Christopher's
toad, and he ran about the house with the book in his arms begging us
to read him the story about Dear Toady.
We were all busy but Arthur, and he said, "I want to go on with my
water-wheel." But Mother said, "Don't be selfish, Arthur." And he
said, "I forgot. All right, Chris; bring me the book." So they went
and sat in the conservatory, not to disturb any one. But very soon
they came back, Chris crying, and saying, "It couldn't be the right
one, Arthur;" and Arthur frowning, and saying, "It _is_ the right
story; but it's _stuff_. I'll tell you what that book's good for,
Chris. To paint the pictures. And you've got a new paint-box." So
Mother said, "What's the matter?" And Arthur said, "Chris thinks I
haven't read him the right story to his Toad Picture. But I have, and
what do you think it's about? It's about the silliest little girl you
can imagine--a regular mawk of a girl--_and a Frog_. Not a toad, but a
F. R. O. G. frog! A regular hop, skip, jumping frog!"
Arthur hopped round the room, but Chris cried bitterly. So Arthur ran
up to him and kissed him, and said, "Don't cry, old chap, I'll tell
you what I'll do. You get Mary to cut out a lot of the leaves of your
book that have no pictures, and that will make it like a real
scrap-book; and then I'll give you a lot of my scraps and pictures to
paste over what's left of the stories, and you'll have such a
painting-book as you never had in all your life before.
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