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Updated: May 19, 2025
"No," said Rhoda, "I ought to weed my flowers." "Ye must hurry," laughed the old broom-woman. "The rainbow won't stay for lazy folks." "I'm off!" cried Chrif; and away he went in search of the pot of gold. Rhoda watched him out of sight. Then she turned to weed the boat-garden. When her grandmother came from the berry pasture, Rhoda told her where Chrif had gone.
It was very pleasant. As they stood by the boat-garden, a voice called to them. The old broom-woman stood in the road. "Have ye found the pot of gold?" she asked. "No; but I have found something else far better!" said Chrif, "I have found home." The Frog-Tsarevna
That moment the little bird burst open the pearl door. "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" he cried. But to Chrif he seemed to say: "Rhoda sits by the window watching for Chrif. The flowers are dead in the boat-garden. 'Chrif will never come back, says grandmother, 'he cares nothing for us." Again Chrif saw the beautiful hall and the Princess standing before him.
"When grandmother died, last winter, I was so lonely, I said, 'When spring comes I will find Chrif." "Grandmother dead! Why, it was but yesterday that I left home!" "Ah, no," answered Rhoda. And she looked at Chrif and smiled. And so they came again to the old red house. There was the dear old boat-garden. Sweet-peas were in bloom and morning-glories climbed up the side of the house.
And Chrif read: "I am the Pot of Gold; I can give thee all things save one. If thou hast me, thou canst not have that. Close thine eyes. Then, if thou choosest me, open them again." Chrif closed his eyes. He saw the old red house dark and cold. No one lived there now. The boat-garden was hidden under the snow. Someone in white passed him by. She was weeping bitterly.
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