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Tearful. Ч.2

Abbie Phillips Walker

Tearful

Part 2

The frog hopped up and down in front of her, waving his front legs and telling her to hush. ‘If you would only stop crying,’ he said, ‘I might be able to help you, but I cannot do a thing if you cover me with your salt tears.’

Tearful listened, and promised she would not cry if he would get her away from the island.

‘There is only one way that I know of,’ said the frog; ‘you must smile; that will dry the pond and we can escape.’

‘But I do not feel like smiling,’ said Tearful, and her eyes filled with tears again.

‘Look out!’ said the frog; ‘you will surely be drowned in your own tears if you cry again.’

Tearful began to laugh. ‘That would be queer, wouldn't it, to be drowned in my own tears?’ she said.

‘That is right, keep on smiling,’ said the frog; ‘the pond is smaller already.’ And he stood up on his hind legs and began to dance for joy.

Tearful laughed again. ‘Oh, you are so funny!’ she said. ‘I wish I had your picture. I never saw a frog dance before.’

‘You have a slate (грифельная доска) under your arm,’ said the frog. ‘Why don't you draw a picture of me?’ The frog picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground, and then he leaned on it with one arm, or front leg, and, crossing his feet, he stood very still.

Tearful drew him in that position, and then he kicked up his legs as if he were dancing, and she tried to draw him that way, but it was not a very good likeness.

‘Do you like that?’ she asked the frog when she held the slate for him to see. He looked so surprised that Tearful laughed again. ‘You did not think you were handsome, did you?’ she asked.

‘I had never thought I looked as bad as those pictures,’ replied the frog. ‘Let me try drawing your picture,’ he said.

‘Now look pleasant,’ he said, as he seated himself in front of Tearful, ‘and do smile.’

Tearful did as he requested, and in a few minutes he handed her the slate. ‘Where is my nose?’ asked Tearful, laughing.

‘Oh, I forgot the nose!’ said the frog. ‘But don't you think your eyes are nice and large, and your mouth, too?’

‘They are certainly big in this picture,’ said Tearful. ‘I hope I do not look just like that.’

‘I do not think either of us are artists,’ replied the frog.

Tearful looked around her. ‘Why, where is the pond?’ she asked. ‘It is gone.’

‘I thought it would dry up if you would only smile,’ said the frog; ‘and I think both of us have learned a lesson. I shall never again wish for a pond of my own. I should be lonely without my companions, and then, it might be salt, just as this one was. And you surely will never cry over little things again, for you see what might happen to you, and then you look so much prettier smiling.’

‘Perhaps I do,’ said Tearful, ‘but your pictures of me make me doubt it. However, I feel much happier smiling, and I do not want to be on an island again, even with such a pleasant companion as you were.’

‘Look out for the tears, then,’ said the frog as he hopped away.