“It must be fine to fly,” thought Peter.  “I wish I could fly.  If I could, I wouldn’t spend all my time flying around the way Flitter does.  I’d go on long journeys and see the Great World.  I’d fly way, way up in the blue, blue sky, the way Ol’ Mistah Buzzard does, where I could look down and see all that is going on in the Green Forest and on the Green Meadows.  And I’d fly in the daytime, because there is more going on then.  I wonder, now, why it is that Flitter never comes out until after jolly, round, red Mr. Sun has gone to bed behind the Purple Hills.  I never see him in the daytime, and I don’t even know where he keeps himself.  I never thought of it before, but I wonder why it is that he flies only at night.  I believe I’ll ask Grandfather Frog the very next time I see him.”

Now you know that once Peter Rabbit’s curiosity is aroused, it just has to be satisfied.  No sooner did he begin to wonder about Flitter the Bat than he could think of nothing else.  So he watched until the way was clear, and then he started for the Smiling Pool as fast as he could go, lipperty-lipperty-lip.  He hoped he would find Grandfather Frog sitting as usual on his big green lily-pad, and that he would be good-natured.  If he wasn’t feeling good-natured, it would be of no use to ask him for a story.

When Peter reached the Smiling Pool he was disappointed, terribly disappointed.  The big green lily-pad was there, but there was no one sitting on it.  Somehow the Smiling Pool didn’t seem quite like itself without Grandfather Frog sitting there watching for foolish green flies.  Peter’s face showed just how disappointed he felt.  He was just going to turn away when a great, deep voice said: 

“Chug-a-rum!  Where are your manners, Peter Rabbit, that you forget to speak to your elders?”

Peter stared eagerly into the Smiling Pool, and presently he saw two great, goggly eyes and the top of a green head, way out almost in the middle of the Smiling Pool.  It was Grandfather Frog himself, having his morning swim.

“Oh, Grandfather Frog, I didn’t see you at all!” cried Peter, “If I had, of course I would have spoken.  The fact is, I—­I—­”

“You want a story,” finished Grandfather Frog for him.  “You can’t fool me, Peter Rabbit.  You came over here just to ask me for a story.  I know you, Peter!  I know you!  Well, what is it this time?”

“If you please,” replied Peter politely and happily, for he saw that Grandfather Frog was feeling good-natured, “why is it that Flitter the Bat flies only at night?”

Grandfather Frog climbed out on his big green lily-pad and made himself comfortable.  Peter sat still and tried not to show how impatient he felt.  Grandfather Frog took his time.  It tickled him to see how hard impatient Peter was trying to be patient, and his big, goggly eyes twinkled.

“Chug-a-rum!” said he at last, with a suddenness that made Peter jump.  “That’s very good, Peter, very good indeed!  Now I’ll tell you the story.”