When he awoke in the morning and sat up on the straw, and looked around
him, the stable was freshly cleaned, the litter in the stalls was shaken
and turned, and near the door was an old barrel of newly dug potatoes,
and the fork stood by it. And when he ran to the wood house there lay
the wood neatly chopped and piled to take away.

He kept his own counsel that day and took credit for the work, but when
on the morrow the farm-bailiff was at a loss to know who had thinned the
turnips that were left to do in the upper field, and Annie the lass
found the kitchen cloths she had left overnight to soak, rubbed through
and rinsed, and laid to dry, the cowherd told his tale to Thomasina, and
begged for a bowl of porridge and cream to set in the barn, as one might
set a mouse-trap baited with cheese.

"For," said he, "the luck of Lingborough's come back, missis. _It's Lob
Lie-by-the-fire_"



LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE.


"It's Lob Lie-by-the-fire!"

So Thomasina whispered exultingly, and Annie the lass timidly. Thomasina
cautioned the cowherd to hold his tongue, and she said nothing to the
little ladies on the subject. She felt certain that they would tell the
parson, and he might not approve. The farm-bailiff knew of a farm on the
Scotch side of the Border where a brownie had been driven away by the