But that night a rap sounded on the outer door, sharp and decided.
“Run and see who it is, Jack,” said Mother Brimmer, looking up from her stocking-mending.
Jack came hurrying back, a large parcel with white paper loosely folded over it, in his hand.
“It’s for Rosy,” he said, setting it down.
“For me?” cried Rosy, too astonished to open it; but Cornelius helped her, and at last the paper was torn off.
“It’s your old red wood-garden!” exclaimed Corny, dreadfully disappointed, at least expecting a big cake.
“Oh!” Rosy clasped her hands, and took an ecstatic little spin in the middle of the floor. “Now it isn’t wicked to want it!” she cried, dreadfully excited.
“If I’d known you wanted to keep one,” said Jack slowly, “so bad, I never’d sold it.”
“Who bought it?” asked his mother.
“Mrs. Higginson.”