66 COUSIN CATHERINE’S SERVANTS.

“T forgot that God made toads,” said Edith in a low voice.

“Now / think that a toad has a comical, laughable beauty
of its own,” said Cousin Catherine; “it is exquisitely made for
the life it has to lead. When: that one crept out just now,
because his skin told him that rain was coming and he would
soon have a refreshing bath, I watched his eyes. They were
more brilliant than this bright jewel in my ring, and his back
was covered with fine velvety markings, something like those of
a tabby cat. He is not nice to touch, because, as he is gentle
and harmless, without any other means of defending himself, he
is able to squeeze drops of liquid out of his skin which are not
pleasant to have about one’s hands ; but as the poor toad neither
bites, scratches, pecks, nor stings, one need hardly grudge him
this one way of keeping his enemies at a distance. He makes
himself nasty because he does not wish to be meddled with. I
think I have known people with tempers of that sort. Yet,
although this is all he can do to prevent himself from being
pulled about, silly people have invented lies about him, saying
that he spits out fire and poison. No dog will take a toad into
its mouth because of the acid taste of him; but he does no other
harm to man or beast—not even that, unless disturbed and
worried. On the other hand, he does a great deal of good. I
keep one in my greenhouse to eat the flies and other creeping
things. He is tame and knows me quite well. ieireshe sam
the middle of the picture, among the other servants who give
me a hint of what sort of weather I may expect. Now, did you
count up how many servants I have got? I do not think you
could, yet I have not told you half. Another time perhaps I
will tell you about some more. But oh, dear! how I do wish
people would be kind to their servants, especially to the poor,
willing, hard-working horses,, without which they would be
puzzled how to get on at all.”