He laughed heartily; doubtless it was their love-song.

He felt affectionate towards the frogs and listened, pleased with the noisy life near him.
When the moon peeped above the trees he felt the old impatience and the old restlessness steal over him.

Why was she so late?
True, it was a long way to come with a single paddle.

With what skill and what endurance could those small hands manage a heavy paddle! It was very wonderful--such small hands, such soft little palms that knew how to touch his cheek with a feel lighter than the fanning of a butterfly's wing.

Wonderful! He lost himself lovingly in the contemplation of this tremendous mystery, and when he looked at the moon again it had risen a hand's breadth above the trees.