"I see two little white lumps," replied the stone; "but I can not understand how they will ever be a root and a stem."
"I do believe you are a poor, dull mineral, after all," said the bean; "and if so, of course you can not understand what pleasure a vegetable has in growing.
"I wouldn't be a mineral for the world! I would not lie still and do nothing, year after year. I would rather spread my branches in the sunshine, and drink in the sweet spring air through my leaves."
"What you say must be all nonsense," said the stone. "I can't understand it."
But the bean grew on without minding him. The roots pushed down into the soil and drank up the moisture from the ground. Then this moisture went into the stem, and the stem climbed bravely up into the light.
"How happy I am!" cried the bean.
It ran over the red stone, and clasped it with long green branches, covered with white bean flowers.
"O indeed!" said the stone. "Is this what you call growing? I thought you were only in fun. How handsome you are!"
"May I hang my pods on you, so that they can ripen in the sun?" said the bean.
"Certainly, friend," said the stone.