“What’s the mystery?” inquired Rosemary, trudging along beside her.
“Why, how did the tree house come to be in the park?”
“A brownie built it!” laughed Veve. “My wish came true!”
“Your wish!” Jane snorted. “You know very well there isn’t such a thing as magic except in story books.”
“You said we’d never get a tree house, Jane Tuttle! Wrong, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was. But to say the tree house was built by a brownie is downright stupid!”
“I’m not stupid,” Veve retorted. “It’s fun to pretend a brownie did it. And until you can give me a better explanation, I’m going to keep right on saying so! There!”
“Girls, girls!” laughed Miss Gordon, who always found it necessary to make peace between Jane and Veve. “We’re certain of one thing. Whoever built the tree house, must have heard our wish. And the person, whoever he or she is, wishes to have his identity remain unknown. So perhaps, just as a little game, we can say that a brownie was responsible.”
“See!” exclaimed Veve triumphantly.
To the bitter disappointment of all the girls, the following day was cold and rainy.