When the meal was finished the frog said: “Now, if you will take this arm-chair by the fireplace, I will remove the table.” She did so, and was surprised to see that when the frog pulled a small knob in the wall the whole table, which, however, was not large, disappeared through an opening partition, and left the room clear. “If you want to read or study, you must draw that writing-desk nearer,” continued her instructor. “I don’t want to do anything to-night. I’m so tired, I think I’ll go to bed early.” “That wouldn’t be a bad plan, seeing you have only been at work one day, and find it all so strange. You’ll be more accustomed to it to-morrow, and get more done.” “Yes,” said Rosalie; “I’m all impatience to be finished. It is such dreary work, and I’m quite inquisitive about the seeds. I wonder whether they’ll grow up roses, or lilies, or nasturtiums, or dahlias, or hyacinths, or chrysanthemums, or what?” “Don’t you know much about seeds?” “Nothing. Uncle was very clever that way; but I never cared about seeds—they looked so very uninteresting; I only cared about the flowers.” “If I were you,” said the frog, “I would rub a little of that liquid out of the bottle on my hands. If they are blistered and sore it will heal them very quickly. I’ve had sore hands myself, so I can sympathise. And here’s a pair of gloves,” it continued, drawing a pair from behind the coal-scuttle. “I made them this afternoon, instead of coming out to keep you company. I might have made them outside, but I thought it would be a little surprise for you.” “Oh, thank you,” said Rosalie. “How very thoughtful of you! Where did you learn everything you know?” “Well! well!” said the frog, with quite a sorrowful croak, “I learnt it in the school where it is most generally taught.” “Where was that?” “In the school of experience and adversity, for the most part.” “Don’t you think that people can be kind unless they’ve gone through a great deal of suffering?” asked Rosalie. “Now and again, just now and again, one finds them. But they’re few and far between.” “I think suffering and trouble make people bitter, or else break them up altogether.” “Not if they’re made of the right stuff,” said the frog. “It’s the needle’s eye that rich and poor men alike have to pass through. If you can’t stand sorrow, you can’t stand happiness, though you may think you can.” “But we were made to be happy. The Serpent—God rather, meant us to be so.” “God meant us to be happy eventually,” said the frog gently. “But like all things else worth having, it takes a great deal of fighting for. Contentment and peace are the nearest approach to it one generally gets the other side of heaven.” “I don’t like the word ‘peace.’ It reminds me of a fat woman, and a dinner of suet dumplings.” “You’re prejudiced, or else you’ve mistaken it for lethargy.” “Well, is not contentment a state of lethargy?”