Miss Crokerly would have doubted, but Rosalie’s tone carried conviction as before.
“And it took a week for the cure to be completed?”
“No. Afterwards he kept me as a prisoner. I ran away, or something led me away. I don’t know which.”
“It’s a curious tale. Almost unbelievable.”
“I know. That’s why I never repeat it. I should have gone to be an inmate of Todbrook’s Home, but I couldn’t bear the thought of it, somehow or other.”
Then Miss Crokerly went away. She saw that Rosalie was overwrought and tired, and recommended her to think about nothing till morning, and go to sleep.
When the door was closed, Rosalie flung herself down in a chair before the fire, and the frog hopped on to the mantelpiece.
“Why did you tell me to speak?” she cried. “I did no good. Only incurred cold glances and hisses and hatred.”
“Flea bites,” said the frog.
“Bred out of serpent’s poison, anyway. If I’d followed Mr. Barringcourt’s advice I’d have said nothing.”