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“Found it down in the lot near the brook. Some boys had made a raft, but I guess they got tired of playing with it, so I took the planks and boards. I found something else, too, Patrick!” “You did? What was that, Mike?”

“A toy woolly Lamb on Wheels,” answered the odd-job man. “It was on the raft. I brought it along with me. There it is, up on the seat,” and he pointed to the toy.

“A Lamb! A toy Lamb on Wheels!” exclaimed Patrick. “Well, if this isn’t strange! I never would have believed it!”

“What’s the matter?” asked the odd-job man, as Patrick looked more closely at the Lamb on the wagon seat. “What’s the matter?”

“Why, this is Mirabell’s Lamb! The one she has been looking for!” cried Patrick. “I hunted down in our cellar for this Lamb, but I didn’t find her. And now you have her on a load of wood! How strange! Where did you say you found her?”

“On the raft,” answered the odd-job man. “But who is Mirabell?”

“A little girl who lives next door,” explained Patrick, the gardener. “She plays with our Dorothy, and Mirabell’s Uncle Tim brought her a Lamb on Wheels. Mirabell had her Lamb out in the street, but she left it for a moment and then it disappeared. Now here it is!”

“Are you sure it’s the same one?” asked the odd-job man.

“Quite sure,” answered Patrick, and, oh, how the Lamb wished she dared speak out and say that she certainly was that very same toy! And how she wished they would take her to Mirabell!

“We can soon tell if this is Mirabell’s Lamb,” went on Patrick. “I’ll take it to her. If you want to you can unload that wood here. My master will buy it and I can chop it up. Then you can cart away some trash in your wagon.”

“I’ll do that,” said the odd-job man. “I guess the Lamb brought me good luck. I was thinking maybe I could sell this wood after I had chopped it up myself, but I’d rather sell it as it is. And I can then cart away the trash.”

“Well, you be unloading the wood,” said Patrick, “and I’ll go see if this is Mirabell’s Lamb. But I am very sure it is,”

Leaning his rake up against the back fence, Patrick walked up the garden path, around the “Big House,” as the odd-job man had called it, and then the gardener went toward the house where Mirabell lived.

The little girl, who had hunted all over for her Lamb on Wheels and was feeling very sad because she had not found it, was in the kitchen getting a cookie from Susan, the cook, when Patrick knocked on the back door.

“I’ll go and see who it is!” cried the little girl.

And when she opened the door, and saw Patrick from the “Big House” standing there with the Lamb on Wheels, Mirabell was so surprised that she dropped her cookie. It fell on the floor, and it almost rolled down the back steps, but Patrick caught it in time.

“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Mirabell, clasping her hands. “Where did you find her? Where did you find my Lamb on Wheels, Patrick?”

“Then she is yours?” asked the gardener.

“Of course she’s mine!” cried Mirabell, as she took her toy in her arms. “I’ve been looking everywhere for her! Oh, where did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her. Another man did,” explained the gardener. “But as soon as I saw this Lamb on the seat of his wagon, I thought she was yours. And she is!”

“Yes, she is!” cried Mirabell, who was very happy now. “This is my Lamb on Wheels, and I’m never going to lose her again. Oh, Patrick, I’m so glad!” she cried. “Will you thank the other man for me?”

“You may come and thank him yourself if you like,” said the good-natured gardener. “He’s unloading wood at our back gate, and he’s going to take away a load of trash for me. Come and thank him yourself.”