So the next morning (for it was evening when they spoke to one another) Rosalie rose with a much lighter heart than for some time past, went out into the garden with the fork, and began to dig. She dug all day, but found nothing, till just at eventide she noticed something shining in the dull, damp soil. She picked it out with her fingers very eagerly. It was a dull enough looking stone for the most part, with here and there a substance in it that shone like glass—not very brilliantly. Whatever it was, it was enough to brighten Rosalie’s spirits for the time being, and as just then she heard the frog’s voice calling her to tea, she made as much haste forwards as she could over the clodding soil to show her treasure. “See what a beautiful thing I have found!” she cried, and held it up triumphantly. “It isn’t very brilliant,” said the frog, looking at it critically. “Don’t you think so?” “No. You do, because you’ve been looking at black soil all the day, but I’ve been looking at the sun.” “Well, but then the brightest thing would look dull if you compared it with the sun. How am I to find out really what it is?” “Take it to my master.” “I can’t open the gate.” “The gate will open of itself, if you’ve anything to take to him.” Rosalie turned about to run off at once, but the other said: “Wait and have tea first. He is never at liberty till six, and now it’s only five.” So after tea, Rosalie, having previously changed her heavy boots and generally tidied herself, set off in the direction of the house. The gate this time responded easily enough to her hand, and soon she was walking through the garden, holding her stone the tighter, in that she was quite sure, from the fact of the gate opening so readily, it must be worth something very considerable. The door leading into the garden was open, and after knocking she passed through, and went at once to the study. The curious thing about the sun here was that it always set at the same time of day, and that between five and half-past, so that now twilight had fallen, and the lamps were lit, though the blinds remained undrawn. The Governor sat as usual, and must have been expecting her, for he held out his hand as she entered, saying: “Well, what have you brought?” She placed it in the hand he held out, and waited whilst he looked at it. This did not take very long, for almost on the instant he looked up, and said: “I’ll send it to an expert in the city of Lucifram, and get his opinion on it.” “You think it is very valuable, then?” “I’m afraid I don’t, except in a way that doesn’t count. But we’ll send it to someone who is unacquainted with the digging, and watering, and heartburning it has necessitated, and therefore who will be less prejudiced than I.” “When will you send it?” “To-night; and you will hear the decision in something like a fortnight.”