hear the first bullfrogs in spring. You can hear them now, down in the marshes. Listen! This is what I used to tell Tom: The little baby bullfrogs say, 'Can't go to sleep! Can't go to sleep!' and the mother bullfrog says, 'Hush, my dears! Hush, my dears!' and the big father bullfrog says, 'Spank 'em! Spank 'em!"
"Oh! Did you? How lovely! Tell me some more."
"The tree frogs say, 'Who cracked the kettle?' and the katydids call back, 'Katy did! Katy did!' and they get to fussing among themselves and some of them say, 'Katy didn't! Katy didn't!' and then way down in the edge of the wood someone calls out 'Whip poor Will! Whip poor Will!'"
The old man imitated the night noises with surprising skill. It had been many years since he had attempted it, but he seemed to enjoy it as much as Rebecca.
"And now you must go back to sleep because you will not wake up in time to hear the birds' chorus in the early morning if you don't. They have advertised their performance to take place at sun-up."
The wonders of the night had entranced Rebecca, but the delight of the dawn affected her, as she told her grandfather afterwards, like
