By breakfast the wishing well had a small queue of coins, each holding a paper program no bigger than a postage stamp. The water made a polite hush, as if the first act had not quite begun.
We asked at the kiosk. A man with a warm bun said the programs listed only one item: a good morning, spoken softly, with no encores. A woman on the path added that her coin bowed first, then waited for the frog to nod, and only then made the wish. “It felt ruder to skip the greeting,” she whispered, as if the well might still be listening.
The keeper of the well explained the arrangement without any fuss. Coins take a program, dip a little bow to the water, and look to the frog on the rim. If the frog nods, the wish may go in. If the frog is busy blinking, the coin simply waits. There is never a second wish on the same visit, which keeps the water from getting crowded with leftover hopes.
The next morning the same frog was back on the stone, slightly damper and very fair. A penny returned with a second program, just to say thank you, and the well accepted it as intermission applause.