This went on for a long while, till at last it seemed to Rosalie all the hope had been crushed out of her, and she went back to the garden and found it quite frosted over. But after a while the frost broke, and the frog, seeing Rosalie made no attempt to go to dig, said to her:
“The frost has broken.”
“I know.”
“Will you not go out into the garden?”
“No; I’m too impatient. I want the seeds to grow quicker than I can learn. I’ve been thinking about it all, and I feel that I must wait. Bright stones take longer to grow than flowers, because they fade less quickly.”
Thereupon the frog let fall a tear of gratitude, but turned the other way during the odd process, so that Rosalie never noticed it.
Then followed a very long and dreary time, with no companionship; nothing but the even days and dull books, and the sympathetic frog. And this went on so long that many a time Rosalie went out to look at the ground, and sighed, but never thought of touching it, because something had said “Stand still.” At last, after a very long time had gone by, she went to bed one night, feeling particularly sad.
Some hours later she awoke to find the moon shining full into the chamber. She got up and dressed, and went through into the outer room. The door was open, and the frog was sitting contemplatively upon the step, looking out on to the beauties of the night. Occasionally it gave a croak of satisfaction.
Rosalie went to the cellar and brought out the big fork, and thought she was so quiet the frog had never seen her. But then, poor thing, its eyes were so large, they stared out from every side of its head, and as she approached the door it hopped down, and moved aside to let her pass.
“Why don’t you ask me what I’m going to do?” she said, laughing.