CHAPTER XX A SIMPLE CONVERSATION One day, when Rosalie had about completed the stone she was engaged upon, the Governor sent for her, by the frog. “And I think,” said Brightcoat, for Rosalie had changed its name, not liking Croaker, “that it would not be at all a bad plan for us to look and see if there are any new clothes anywhere about. This old dress you are wearing is most worn and shabby.” “There are none,” said she. “I have looked many a time, and have never found anything except the coarse brown apron I wear to protect my dress from the soil.” “Well, there’s a time, and not a time, for looking for things. Suppose we look in the little wardrobe together now. If you stay dinner with the Governor, you must be fairly suitably dressed for it.” And what was Rosalie’s surprise, on looking in the diminutive dress-closet, to find a pretty dress of softest silk, white and apple green, just ready made to fit her figure, and everything besides to match, even to silken stockings and pretty slippers, and a cluster of red and golden leaves upon the dressing-table, as simple and pretty as the rest. Rosalie, from feeling old as the hills, suddenly felt young as a blue-bell blowing on an early summer morning. “Oh, Brightcoat! I never felt so happy in my life. To get rid of this old black and red thing! Why, that in itself is Paradise. But to wear these! It’s past belief. Now, if you were me, how would you wear your hair—high or low? Which do you think suits me?” “I say in that loose bundle at the back you used to wear when you first came to us.” “The way Mariana did it.” “Was it?” “Yes. Oh, dear, dear! I’m afraid I shan’t do it a bit nicely. When you try to do your hair nicely it always looks hideous; have you ever noticed that?” “No; you see I haven’t got any.” “Of course not! My dress is almost the exact colours of your skin. Have you noticed it?” “Yes. My master said the colours were chosen out of compliment to me.” “How delightful! Frog green! It’s quite an innovation in fashions, and a very pretty one.” Brightcoat’s eyes sparkled with pleasure at this little bit of innocent flattery, and if it showed vanity, vanity of a sort is a very delightful thing. So Rosalie dressed with fluttering happiness and eager haste. “Your hair doesn’t look a bit as if you’d taken pains with it,” said the frog from the bed, where it was sitting. “What do you mean?” she asked, with sudden alarm. “It’s very becoming.” “I’d rather your flattery was a little less open. I know you mean well, but it’s embarrassing to have one’s defects spoken of so charmingly.” By this time the dressing was completed, and in the eyes of her simple companion no one had ever looked more lovely.