THE KING OF GROWGLAND’S CROWN
It was almost a week before the brother and sister saw the miller again, but one evening as Janet was coming down the road he jumped over the wall from the mill-field.
“Where’s the little boy?” he asked. “I hope your grandmother has not been bad to him again.”
“No,” said Janet, “she’s very cross, but she hasn’t beaten him for more than a week.”
“You go and fetch him,” said he. “I have been looking for the book I told you about—grandmother’s story-book. I’m not busy to-night, and we can sit in the field, and I’ll read him a story.”
“How lovely!” cried Janet. “I’ll run and bring him at once.”
“Yes, and mind you come back, too,” called the miller after her.
In a few minutes she returned, with Peter jumping and clapping his hands beside her, and when they had found a nice place, they sat down to read.
They sat on the roots of a tree by the mill-lead, with the water babbling at their feet. The book was old and tattered, and, unfortunately, there were no pictures in it, but they did not mind that. They could see just as good pictures for themselves, in their own minds’ eyes.
“I will read you a story about three brothers,” said the miller to Peter; “and there’s a magpie in it, too, and a pretty young woman like your sister.”