Stephen Lea, the groom, had been ill, and was late that morning, and
Miss Rose reached the stable first. Almost at once her eye was
caught by something unusual on the pony's back, but in the dim light
of the stable she could not make out what it was.
"Why, Rob," she exclaimed, laughing, "what have you been doing?
Where have you been to pick up a load?" Then she searched his side,
and made out what the load really was. "Oh, that dear child!" she
cried, as she read the inscription written in a big round hand on a
sheet of paper, and her eyes grew misty, "From a grateful Brownie."
"Now when could she have brought that, and tied it there, I wonder.
Rob, you bad boy, why don't you tell me all about it? You know you
have been gobbling down sugar this morning, greedy little creature
that you are; but I should never have known it from you, if I hadn't
seen the crumbs. You are the best secret-keeper I know, but I do
wish you could tell me about this, Rob dear."
She looked at the pretty basket with eyes full of tenderness and
admiration. "Dear, kind little brownie!" she whispered softly.
Later that day, Rob, still looking as though he did not know what a
secret or a brownie was, trotted down Woodend Lane, and drew up as a
matter of course before the cottage gate. Indeed, his feelings would
have been quite hurt if he had been told that he must not stop there,
but must go further down the lane.
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