"How d'ye do?—Boxer was me. Didn't I bark well? Now I'm come to play with you."
The children clapped their hands; for they knew that they were going to have some fun if Brownie was there—he was the best little playfellow in the world. And then they had him all to themselves. Nobody ever saw him except the children.
"Come on!" cried he, in his shrill voice, half like an old man's, half like a baby's. "Who'll begin to gather the cherries?"
They all looked blank; for the tree was so high to where the branches sprung, and besides, their mother had said that they were not to climb. And the ladder lay flat upon the grass—far too heavy for little hands to move.
"What! you big boys don't expect a poor little fellow like me to lift the ladder all by myself? Try! I'll help you."
Whether he helped or not, no sooner had they taken hold of the ladder than it rose up, almost of its own accord, and fixed itself quite safely against the tree.
"But we must not climb—mother told us not," said the boys ruefully.
"Mother said we were to stand at the bottom and pick up the cherries."
"Very well. Obey your mother. I'll just run up the tree myself."
Before the words were out of his mouth Brownie had darted up the ladder like a monkey, and disappeared among the fruit-laden branches.
The children looked dismayed for a minute, till they saw a merry brown face peeping out from the green leaves at the very top of the tree.