“O, but my papa would never give me a bad pony,” answered Susy, with perfect confidence.

Mr. Hill laughed again.  He was a rough man; but he thought a child’s faith in a parent was a beautiful thing.

He did not know many passages of Scripture, but thought he had read somewhere, “And if he ask bread, will he give him a stone?” No; fathers are glad to give their “best gifts,” and the little ones trust them.

“It’s like sailing in a boat,” cried Susy, riding back and forth about the yard in great excitement; “why, it’s just as easy as the swing in the oilnut-tree at grandma Parlin’s!  O, papa, to think I should forget to thank you!”

But perhaps Mr. Parlin regarded glowing cheeks and shining eyes as the very best of thanks.

Prudy thought the pony a beautiful “baby horse;” wanted to ride, and didn’t want to; was afraid, and wasn’t afraid, and, as her father said, “had as many minds as some politicians who are said to ’stand on the fence.’” By and by, after some coaxing, the timid little thing consented to sit behind Susy, and cling round her waist, if her father would walk beside her to make sure she didn’t fall off.  In this way they went home.

“I like to sit so I can hug my sister, while she drives the horse,” said Prudy; “besides, it hurts me to walk.”

Mr. Parlin and aunt Madge smiled at the child’s speeches, but gave no more heed to this lameness of which she complained, than they did to any of the rest of her little freaks.

Prudy liked to be pitied for every small hurt; and when Susy had a sore throat, and wore a compress, she looked upon her with envy, and felt it almost as a personal slight that her throat could not be wrapped in a compress too.

On their way they met “lame Jessie,” a little girl with crooked spine and very high shoulders, who hobbled along on crutches.

“She’s lamer than me,” said Prudy.  “Good morning, Jessie.”

“I know what I’ve thought of,” said Susy, who could talk of nothing which was not in some way connected with her pony.  “I’m going to give that girl some rides.  How happy she will be, poor little Jessie!”

“When you get your sleigh,” said Mr. Parlin.

“My sleigh, papa?  How many more presents are coming?”

“It is hard to tell, Susy; one gift makes way for another, you see.  First comes the pony; but how can he live without a stable, and a groom to feed him?  Then what is a pony worth without a saddle?  And, as one does not wish always to ride pony-back, a sleigh is the next thing.”

“But, papa, you know in the summer!”

“Yes, my dear, in the summer, if we all live, there must be a light carriage made on purpose for you.”

“There is one thing more that pony needs,” said aunt Madge, stroking his eyebrows, “and that is, a name.”

“O, I never thought of that,” said Susy; “help me find a name, auntie.”