And the miller was
happy, for had not Anne consented to marry him, and was not the
wedding-day no farther distant now than to-morrow?
Anne visited the mill with her husband a week later, and she said,
"There are many mice here. Why don't you set traps for them?"
"I cannot do _that_," said the miller. "One mouse has taught me more
than all the books I have read. The mice are welcome to what they take
of the grain."
And Anne questioned no more. It was enough for her that she and Tom
were together. So I suppose the little brown mouse, or at least its
descendants, still live on unmolested at the mill.
THE OLD ROCKING-HORSE
He was a very old rocking-horse indeed. His first master, sunny-headed
little Robbie, had grown into a man with a beard, and had given his old
playmate to his sister's children.
These children had in their turn grown into great schoolboys, so the
old horse, like the other toys, was left forsaken in the big nursery at
the top of the house. Broken-down furniture and old magazines had
found their way there, together with travelling-trunks and
portmanteaux. Spiders had spun their webs over the windows, and dust
lay thick on everything.
When little Basil found his way into the old nursery it seemed to him
like an enchanted palace. The spiders and dust only made him think
that somewhere he would find the "sleeping beauty." The litter of toys
and paper and boxes suggested hidden treasure.
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