The house of frogs

The house of Frogs had never been built. It had grown, like every amphibious abode, from damp earth and the roots of fragrant flowers. It had no door, but a doorway; no glass, but window frames. Its sides curved above Mr and Mrs Frog and the bairns as though a bowl had fallen atop them, or been placed there by a curious child with mischievous designs – but in truth there was no safer place for a Frog.

Sometimes Mrs Frog thought back to when they had not had a house, living like savages on the lily pads, and felt happy.

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