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he die of?" asked Maya, in genuine sympathy.
Miss Loveydear could not reply at once. Great tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks.
"He was stuck in a pocket," she sobbed. "No one can stand being stuck in a pocket."
"But what is a pocket?" Maya could hardly take in so many new and awful things all at once.
"A pocket," Miss Loveydear explained, "is a store-room that men have in their outer hide.-- And what else do you think was in the pocket when my brother was stuck into it? Oh, the dreadful company in which my poor brother had to draw his last breath! You'll never guess!"
"No," said Maya, all in a quiver, "no, I don't think I can.-- Honey, perhaps?"
"Not likely," observed Miss Loveydear with an air of mingled importance and distress. "You'll seldom find honey in the pockets of human beings. I'll tell you.-- A frog was in the pocket, and a pen-knife, and a carrot. Well?"
"Horrible," whispered Maya.-- "What is a pen-knife?"
"A pen-knife, in a way, is a human being's sting, an artificial one. They are denied a sting by nature, so they try to imitate it.-- The frog, thank goodness, was nearing his end. One eye was gone, one leg was broken, and his lower jaw was dislocated. Yet, for all that, the moment my brother was stuck in the pocket he hissed at him out of his crooked mouth:
"'As soon as I am well, I will swallow you.'
"With his remaining eye he glared at my brother, and in the half-light of the prison you can imagine what an effect the look he gave him must have had--fearful!-- Then something even more horrible happened. The pocket was suddenly shaken, my brother was pressed against the dying frog and his wings stuck to its cold, wet body. He went off in a faint.-- Oh, the misery of it! There are no words to describe it."
"How did you find all this out?" Maya was so horrified she could scarcely frame the question.
"I'll tell you," replied Miss Loveydear. "After a while the boy got hungry and dug into his