Explore "The Squire's Little Girl" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Phyllis came home quite late. Her habit was torn; Bob, the pony, was covered with mud; mud had also been splashed all over the little girl's neat costume -- even her face and hands were more or less disfigured by it. Her curly hair was disfigured too with the mud from the swamps and dirty roads over which she had passed, but there was a brilliant colour in her cheeks and a happy light in her eyes. She rode into the yard, and a groom came up to take her pony.
"Miss Phyllis," he exclaimed, "you have Bob in a lather!"