began to speak, you was going to tell something! Why don't you wait till
you have something to say? Please give me a list of names, papa."

"There's Speedwell, Lightfoot, Zephyr, Prince, Will-o'-the-wisp--"

"I might call him Wispy," broke in Susy. "Zephyr is good, only it makes
you think of worsteds."

"Now, listen," said aunt Madge; "you might call him Elephant, just for
sport, because he is in reality so very little. Or, on the other hand,
you might find the least speck of a name, like Firefly, or Midge."

"I don't like any of those," replied Susy, still dissatisfied.

"I see," said aunt Madge, laughing, "nothing will please you but a great
name. What say to Pegasus, a flying horse, which poets are said to ride?
It might be shortened to Peggy."

"Now, auntie, you wouldn't have this beautiful pony called Peggy; you
know you wouldn't! the one my father bought on purpose for me! But was
there such a horse, truly?"

"O, no; there is an old fable, which, as we say, is 'as true now as it
ever was,' of a glorious creature with wings, and whoever mounts him
gets a flying ride into the clouds. But the trouble is to catch him!"

"O, I wish my pony could fly," said Susy, gazing dreamily at his black
mane and sleek sides. "The first place I'd go to would be the moon; and
there I'd stay till I built a castle as big as a city. I'd come home
every night, so mother wouldn't be frightened, and fly up in the