Page 164, panel one

There is a similar virtuoso story in the "Carlo" series, which relates the various adventures of a hapless dog. Some urchins tie a string of cans to Carlo's tail, and he's off and running: he barely appears other than as a distant trail of dust as Frost depicts the disaster left in his wake. In one of the last panels, we simply see the string of cans tailing behind the dog, who's rounded the corner of a fence; in the next image, we only see the unfortunate, unintended victim, tangled in cans, with Carlo nowhere in sight (164). Except for the Carlo stories, Frost generally eschews the panel border which Töpffer uses to great narrative effect, Frost does use the frame's implied boundary -- or boundaries within his images -- as a narrative device. He does so most specifically in a story which also follows the repetitive panel structure Smolderen describes. In "'Twas a Poem About Gentle Spring," a strong-man enters a beleaguered newspaper editors office and proceeds to repeatedly toss the other character into the air like a plaything. Frost crops the editor out of the picture, save for dangling hands or feet (124 - 126). The more detailed interior of the already square-ish editor's office creates a stronger implied frame that permits the effect more than other border-less panels might.