So then she went away. The next two weeks were passed in waiting, and in the study of those books which Rosalie found more dry and difficult each succeeding day. For there was no one to explain them, and in some parts there seemed nothing but big full-stops and commas, with wide gaps between. But at the end of that time the frog came to her one morning and said the Governor wished to see her. Rosalie went in fear and expectation, and the first thing her eyes lighted on was her stone upon the table. This, she felt, was not quite as it should be. “The decision is that it is rubbish.” That was all the Governor said. She felt rather miserable. She thought it must be with hurrying across the garden. However, there was nothing to be said, and Rosalie withdrew. After that some very hard, frosty weather followed, and the ground was so hard that for a long time she was able to do nothing—outside, at any rate. Then when it thawed a little she went out and digged again, and found just such another stone as the one before, only of a little lighter and brighter substance. After tea she took it to the Governor, as last time. He promised to send it to the city, and get the opinion of an expert upon it. Rosalie withdrew to wait. At the end of a fortnight she was again sent for to the Governor’s house. Her stone was on the table. “The decision is that it is rubbish,” said he. And she felt disappointed this time, but not miserable. One is never quite so sure of things after the first time—that is, if they’ve miscarried. She went back again to the plantation and the hut. Again the ground had frozen, and for some time it was impossible to do anything, even had she had the inclination. After this, every time the thaw came Rosalie set to work again, finding the work a change and relief from study. And though the disappointment always lasted out the frost, it always disappeared with the thaw. And every time she went up to the house, the particular stone she had last found lay on the table, and the words were: “The decision is that it is rubbish.” This went on for a long while, till at last it seemed to Rosalie all the hope had been crushed out of her, and she went back to the garden and found it quite frosted over. But after a while the frost broke, and the frog, seeing Rosalie made no attempt to go to dig, said to her: “The frost has broken.” “I know.” “Will you not go out into the garden?” “No; I’m too impatient. I want the seeds to grow quicker than I can learn. I’ve been thinking about it all, and I feel that I must wait. Bright stones take longer to grow than flowers, because they fade less quickly.” Thereupon the frog let fall a tear of gratitude, but turned the other way during the odd process, so that Rosalie never noticed it.