Rob knew her well enough by this time, and only looked mildly surprised at her appearance.
He had a horse-cloth over him, fastened round him by a girth, and while he scrunched up the sugar Huldah had brought him she secured her basket on his back by the girth, as fast as her nervous fingers could manage it.

"Miss Rose can't help seeing it there," she thought, delightedly, "and Rob can't harm it before she comes." She stood for a second gazing in sheer joy at her handiwork, the dainty basket and the big white label tied to it, with "From a grateful Brownie," written in large letters on it.

Then, fearful of being discovered, she hurried quickly out, fastened the door behind her, and with Dick still close at her heels raced away as quietly as ever she could, and never paused until she had reached the top of Woodend Lane once more.
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.