The window was open and we heard the frogs singing down in the swamp of the brook meadow . We had heard frogs sing in Ontario , of course ; but certainly Prince Edward Island frogs were more tuneful and mellow . Or was it simply the glamour of old family traditions and tales which was over us , lending its magic to all sights and sounds around us ? This was home -- father 's home -- OUR home ! We had never lived long enough in any one house to develop a feeling of affection for it ; but here , under the roof-tree built by Great-Grandfather King ninety years ago , that feeling swept into our boyish hearts and souls like a flood of living sweetness and tenderness . `` Just think , those are the very frogs father listened to when he was a little boy , '' whispered Felix . `` They can hardly be the SAME frogs , '' I objected doubtfully , not feeling very certain about the possible longevity of frogs . `` It 's twenty years since father left home . '' `` Well , they 're the descendants of the frogs he heard , '' said Felix , `` and they 're singing in the same swamp . That 's near enough . '' Our door was open and in their room across the narrow hall the girls were preparing for bed , and talking rather more loudly than they might have done had they realized how far their sweet , shrill voices carried . `` What do you think of the boys ? '' asked Cecily . `` Beverley is handsome , but Felix is too fat , '' answered Felicity promptly . Felix twitched the quilt rather viciously and grunted . But I began to think I would like Felicity . It might not be altogether her fault that she was vain . How could she help it when she looked in the mirror ? `` I think they 're both nice and nice looking , '' said Cecily . Dear little soul !
`` I wonder what the Story Girl will think XXXXX them , '' said Felicity , as if , after all , that was the main thing .
about across around in of over since than that to