She, however, looked across at it with eyes wide open.
“Well, really! It doesn’t seem unlikely, considering the time they are in coming up.”
“What will you do?” said the frog.
“I’ll begin to dig again,” cried Rosalie.
“It’s the wisest thing you’ve said since you came here,” the frog answered, and its colours flashed quite brilliantly.
So the next morning (for it was evening when they spoke to one another) Rosalie rose with a much lighter heart than for some time past, went out into the garden with the fork, and began to dig. She dug all day, but found nothing, till just at eventide she noticed something shining in the dull, damp soil. She picked it out with her fingers very eagerly. It was a dull enough looking stone for the most part, with here and there a substance in it that shone like glass—not very brilliantly. Whatever it was, it was enough to brighten Rosalie’s spirits for the time being, and as just then she heard the frog’s voice calling her to tea, she made as much haste forwards as she could over the clodding soil to show her treasure.
“See what a beautiful thing I have found!” she cried, and held it up triumphantly.
“It isn’t very brilliant,” said the frog, looking at it critically.
“Don’t you think so?”
“No. You do, because you’ve been looking at black soil all the day, but I’ve been looking at the sun.”