“I’m going to dig again,” said Rosalie to the frog, laughing. “I feel I am intended to. The ground is soft, and though my eagerness has gone, I still can work when there is opportunity.”
And so in the same way she unbedded another stone, and though it was smaller than the last, and not of the same worth by any means, it had its merits, and one pure flash in the centre to show it was related to the larger one. Having given it into the Governor’s hands, she returned to her own dwelling, and waited some short time.
But one day as she was going round the plantation, holding a book and reading, with the frog hopping by her side, she was startled to hear someone calling over the gateway, “Good morning, Rosalie!” and looking, she beheld Billy standing there, his arms folded over it, and his face all laughing, as was usual when he came.
“Good morning!” said she, and her eyes brightened at such a change in the day’s programme.
“I’ve brought you bad news.”
“Ah! then don’t repeat it. I know already what it is,” and Rosalie sighed.
“You know, I don’t think you’re ever going to get out of this little paddock,” said he.
“I don’t think so myself. Soon I shall be getting past breaking in.”
“How do you like digging?”
“Oh, I’ve taken to it fairly well, thanks to my little friend Croaker here. I regard myself as a worm, and feel lowly contentment. Many a time I have thought myself dead and the sun set.”