From being poor he became rich. He never married, but continued happily in the society of his one unmarried sister. The affection and understanding were very mutual, and perfectly to the contentment of both. On this particular night Miss Crokerly entered her brother’s presence with some trepidation. After all, she had a reputation for common sense, though, like him, maybe a little eccentric, and the brightness of the frog and the prettiness of Rosalie’s face hardly seemed pretext enough on second thoughts for inviting her into the house. “John,” said she, betraying no misgiving in her voice, as she closed the door, “I’ve invited a young girl from the country, who is lost, to come in and shelter for the night.” “What’s her name?” and he looked up over the top of the paper which he was reading, for daylight was precious just then, and morning meals too hasty to allow of much newspaper indulgence during them. “I don’t know; she is a perfect stranger to me. I came to see if you approved.” “It won’t matter to me. I shan’t see her,” he answered. “Of course not.” Then, after a pause: “You think I’m not running any risks by bringing her in?” “I don’t know. You can’t very well turn her out again now you’ve done it. Small-pox is pretty prevalent, to be sure. Did you make particular inquiries if she’d been successfully vaccinated?” “You have no objection to what I’ve done?” “Not after you’ve done it,” and he relapsed once more behind the paper. But Miss Crokerly, after turning to the door, looked round again. “I should like you to see her,” she said, for her, very hesitatingly. “In the morning,” he answered. “In the morning you will have less time and inclination than now.” “But what purpose should I serve in going to look at her? Is she different from the generality of country folk?” “I don’t know,” she replied slowly; “but I think she is much prettier. And she has with her a frog with the most brilliant colour I ever saw.” At this he laughed. “My curiosity is not excited in the least,” he answered. “But mine _is_,” she said, with a return to her decided manner; “and you really must come, if but to see the frog. It is a marvel.” “Bring it here to me, then.” “Certainly not, unless I bring her too. You are growing terribly lazy, Jack.” “Well, come along,” he said impatiently. “Only please don’t drag me into any more of your charitable whims, frogs or no frogs.” “Of course not. This is an exception. You might ask her her name and address. I quite forgot to do so.” So together they went into the hall where Rosalie still sat. The frog, with a wisdom born of its dead vanity, had again settled itself conspicuously to attract attention on her shoulder. Rosalie’s pale face and large bright eyes also possessed a peculiar beauty and fascination, although she was tired with the journey and sick from want of food.