d the stork and the nest and the
tall pine the sun was blazing with all his rays. And Uncle Charley
told us the story to it, and it was called "the Nest of the Stork."

So when Arthur saw a stork standing among pine needles in his new
book he shouted with delight, though the pine needles were rather
badly done, with thick strokes. But presently he said, "It's not
nearly so good a stork as Uncle Charley's. And where's the stem of the
pine? It looks as if the stork were on the ground and on the top of
the pine tree, too, and there's no nest. And there's no sun. And, oh!
Mary, what do you think is written under it? '_Crane and
Water-reeds_.' Well, I do call that a sell!"

Christopher's disappointment was quite as bad. Mother gave him a book
with very nice pictures, particularly of beasts. The chief reason she
got it for him was that there was such a very good picture of a toad,
and Chris is so fond of toads. For months he made friends with one in
the garden. It used to crawl away from him, and he used to creep after
it, talking to it, and then it used to half begin to crawl up the
garden wall, and stand so, on its hind legs, and let Chris rub its
wrinkled back. 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 anyone. 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