if the horse can swim with the carriage behind him it’s all right, but I have my doubts.’  Now John, my dears, has been with me a great many years, and he knows very well that I’m rather a nervous old woman.  It’s very sad, but it is so.  Don’t you be nervous when you’re old people.  So all he said was ‘All right, ma’am.  Bless you, he can swim like a trout.’  And crack went the whip, splash went the water!  It seemed to me it was just going to come in under the door, when, lo and behold! there we were safe and sound on dry ground again.  But whether my old horse swam through or walked through I can’t tell you.  I like to believe he swam, because I’m so fond of him, and one likes to believe the creatures one loves can do clever things.”

“I’ll ask John when he comes to take you away, Aunt Emma,” said Olly.  “I don’t believe horses can swim when they’re in a carriage.”

“You’re a matter-of-fact monkey,” said Aunt Emma.  “Dear me, what’s that?”

For a loud squeak had suddenly startled the children, who were now looking about them everywhere in vain, to find out where it came from.  Squeak! again.  This time the voice certainly came from near Aunt Emma’s chair, but there was nothing to be seen.

“What a strange house you live in,” said Aunt Emma, with a perfectly grave face.  “You must have caught a magician somehow.  That’s a magician’s squeak.”

Again came the noise!

“I know, I know!” shouted Olly.  “It’s Aunt Emma’s bag!  I’m sure it came out of the bag.”

“My bag!”—­holding it up and looking at it.  “Now does it look like a bag that squeaks?  It’s a perfectly well-behaved bag, and never did such a thing in its life.”

“I know, Aunt Emma,” said Olly, dancing round her in great excitement.  “You’ve got the parrot in there!”

“Well now,” said Aunt Emma.  “This is really serious.  If you think I am such a cruel old woman as to shut up a poor poll-parrot in a bag, there’s no help for it, we must open the bag.  But it’s a very curious bag—­I wouldn’t stand too near it if I were you.”

Click! went the fastening of the bag, and out jumped—­what do you think?  Why, the very biggest frog that was ever seen, in this part of the world at any rate, a green speckled frog, that hopped on to Aunt Emma’s knee, and then on to the floor, where it went hopping and squeaking along the carpet, till all of a sudden, when it got to the door, it turned over on its back, and lay there quite quiet with its legs in the air.

The children followed it with looks half of horror, half of amazement.

“What is it, Aunt Emma?  Is it alive?” asked Milly, jumping on to a chair as the frog came near her, and drawing her little skirts tight round her legs, while Olly went cautiously after it, with his hands on his knees, one step at a time.

“You’d better ask it,” said Aunt Emma, who had at last begun to laugh a little, as if it was impossible to keep grave any longer.  “I’m sure it looks very peaceable just now, poor thing.”