“Why,” said the bean, “don’t you know what growing means?  I thought every thing knew how to grow.  You see, when I grow, my root goes down into the soil to get moisture, and my stem goes up into the light to find heat.  Heat and moisture are my food and drink.

“By and by, I shall be a full-grown plant, and that is wonderful!  In the ground, my roots will travel far and wide.

“In the air, how happy my stem will be!  I shall learn a great deal, and see beautiful things every day.  O how I long for that time to come!”

“What you say is very strange,” said the red stone.  “Here I have been in this same place for many years, and I have not grown at all.  I have no root; I have no stem; or, if I have, they never move upward nor downward, as you say.  Are you sure you are not mistaken?”

“Why, of course I’m not mistaken,” cried the bean.  “I feel within myself that I can grow; and I have absorbed so much moisture that I must soon begin.”

Just then the bean’s coat split from end to end, and for one or two minutes neither the stone nor the bean spoke.  The stone was astonished, and the bean was a little frightened.  However, he soon recovered his courage.

“There!” said he, showing the two packages he had been carrying; “these are my seed-leaves.  In them is the food on which I intend to live when I begin growing.

“When my stem is strong enough to do without them, they will wither away.  My coat is all worn-out, too.  I shall not need it any longer.  Look inside the seed-leaves, and you will see the germ.  Part of it is root, and part of it is stem.  Do you see?”

“I see two little white lumps,” replied the stone; “but I can not understand how they will ever be a root and a stem.”

“I do believe you are a poor, dull mineral, after all,” said the bean; “and if so, of course you can not understand what pleasure a vegetable has in growing.

“I wouldn’t be a mineral for the world!  I would not lie still and do nothing, year after year.  I would rather spread my branches in the sunshine, and drink in the sweet spring air through my leaves.”

“What you say must be all nonsense,” said the stone.  “I can’t understand it.”

But the bean grew on without minding him.  The roots pushed down into the soil and drank up the moisture from the ground.  Then this moisture went into the stem, and the stem climbed bravely up into the light.

“How happy I am!” cried the bean.

It ran over the red stone, and clasped it with long green branches, covered with white bean flowers.

“O indeed!” said the stone.  “Is this what you call growing?  I thought you were only in fun.  How handsome you are!”

“May I hang my pods on you, so that they can ripen in the sun?” said the bean.

“Certainly, friend,” said the stone.

He was very polite, now that he saw the bean was a full-grown vine.