"What did you wish, sir?"

"Just undo that check-rein for me. I am lame, and Jack wants to
drink at your brook," answered the old man, nodding at her till his
spectacles danced on his nose.

Marjorie was rather afraid of the fat pony, who tossed his head,
whisked his tail, and stamped his feet as if he was of a peppery
temper. But she liked to be useful, and just then felt as if there
were few things she could NOT do if she tried, because it was her
birthday. So she proudly let down the rein, and when Jack went
splashing into the brook, she stood on the bridge, waiting to check
him up again after he had drunk his fill of the clear, cool water.

The old gentleman sat in his place, looking up at the little girl,
who was smiling to herself as she watched the blue dragon-flies
dance among the ferns, a blackbird tilt on the alderboughs, and
listened to the babble of the brook.

"How old are you, child?" asked the old man, as if he rather envied
tihs rosy creature her youth and health.

"Twelve to-day, sir;" and Marjorie stood up straight and tall, as if
mindful of her years.

"Had any presents?" asked the old man, peering up with an odd smile.

"One, sir,--here it is;" and she pulled out of her pocket a tin
savings-bank in the shape of a desirable family mansion, painted
red, with a green door and black chimney. Proudly displaying it on