“Oh!” John was frankly a trifle bewildered by the explanation.
“It was Tony’s idea,” smiled Rosamund.
She had seated herself on the heather, and John had followed her example. The boys were some paces ahead of them, examining the cache.
“Tony,” pursued Rosamund, “discovered that pleasant anticipation is conducive to good behaviour. He solemnly assured me of the fact one day. Therefore we—or, at least, I—conceived the idea of putting the theory to the test.”
“Therefore,” said John, “you established a cache for Molly.”
“We established a cache for Molly,” echoed she. “We lured her to it in the most innocent way imaginable. Of course she hasn’t the remotest notion as to who has established it. That would be to spoil the joy of it. It is the hint of secret magic about it that is half its delight. The contents are dependent on conduct, you understand. At least a fortnight’s exemplary behaviour brings the kind of reward you perceived today. Often there may be merely a flower found. If the fairies are dissatisfied, I have known them to put a couple of snails within the cache.” Again her eyes danced.
“Brown pools that have caught and held a sunbeam,” thought John.
Aloud he said ruminatively, “I wonder what becomes of the snails.”
Rosamund gave a little shiver.
“I fear me,” said she, “that once at least, they were—squashed!”