Beechfield was Timmy Tosswill's world in little. He was passionately
interested in all that concerned its inhabitants, and was a familiar and
constant, though not always a welcome visitor to every cottage. Most of
the older village men and women had a certain grudging affection for the
odd little boy. They were all well aware of, and believed in, the gift
which made him, as the nurse had once explained to a crony of hers, "see
things which are not there," though not one of them would have cared to
mention it to him.
Timmy had a special reason for wishing to know what was going on in this
stable-yard, so, after a moment's thought, he walked deliberately through
the gates as if he had some business there, and then he saw that two men,
one of whom was a stranger to him, were tidying up the place in a very
leisurely, thoroughgoing manner.
The back door of The Trellis House, as the quaint-looking, long, low
building to the right was incongruously named, opened into the
stable-yard and by the door was a bench. Timmy walked boldly across the
yard and established himself on the bench and his dog, Flick, jumped up
and sat sedately by him. The little boy then took a small black book out
of his pocket.
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