Tom, Dot and Talking Mouse | Page 7

didn't cry to have his hair combed," said the horse shortly. "He
didn't even cry when the soap was in his eyes. By now he has grown
into a brave man! When he fell off me and made his leg bleed he said it
was nothing, and just got on me again. But he did cry when he parted
from me."
"Well, he was a coward once, anyway."
"No, he wasn't," snorted the horse. "It isn't cowardly to cry because you
are leaving some one you love."
"All the same, don't toss your head like that, or your eye will drop out

again," cried Basil warningly. "But you may go on telling me about
Robbie."
"I was his dearest friend," went on the horse. "He told me all about his
troubles, and showed me all his new things; and he used to learn his
lessons sitting on my back. When he had a piece of cake he used to
push a bit in through the hole in my neck, and rock me to make it drop
into my stomach."
"Oh! then the hole has been there a long time."
"Yes; Robbie made it to feed me through; those other boys only put
buttons and marbles in, and old nails. Robbie always gave me a bit of
cake with the biggest plum in it. When he was ill he asked for me, and
the mother had me put by the bedside, and I watched him night and day.
His little hand grew so thin and pale, and he used to slip it out from
under the quilt to stroke me."
"There! your tail's in now," cried Basil. "So now I will see if I can get
the stirrup off the drawer; then I'll sponge you a bit."
"If you could only make me look nice they would send me back for
Robbie's boy, and I should see Robbie again before I die. You are a
kind little boy, and Robbie will love you."
"Tell me some more. You look ever so much better already," said Basil,
tugging away at the stirrup. "And I dare say when you get back to
Robbie he will have you painted up, and then you will feel just like you
used to feel."
"Yes," said the old horse; "he will have me done up like new, and he
will tell his little boy to love me for his sake, and all my happy days
will begin again. Often at night I have listened to the wind roaring in
the chimney and have shivered with cold, and have thought how
Robbie would have put a rug over me if he were here."
Just then the gong sounded for luncheon. "I must go now," said Basil,
"but I will come up again and finish you."

* * * * * *
"Auntie," Basil began, when he was seated at the table, "I have been
mending up the old rocking-horse; won't you send it to Uncle Robbie's
boy?"
Basil was too wise to repeat all the old horse had told him, for he knew
that grown-up people never understand that toys talk to the children.
"Yes, I think I will," auntie replied.
* * * * * *
The gas was lit in the entrance-hall of a big house in a country town. A
little white-frocked child raced to the door to meet a tall, handsome
man who had just entered.
"Papa! papa! the old wocking-horse is tum--it was youse when you was
ickle boy; tum and see it."
The father perched his little son on his shoulder and mounted the stairs
to the nursery, where the firelight danced on the walls.
The old rocking-horse was waiting, almost faint with joy; he was soon
to see his beloved master, to feel his caress.
The father placed his son on the floor, and advanced to his old
playmate.
"What an old scarecrow!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Whatever could
your aunt have been thinking of to send it! We will despatch it to be
chopped up for firewood, and buy you a new one."
So the old horse was carried off to the back yard.
But nobody knew that his heart was broken!

THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY
"Little flower, little flower," said the birdie, "why are you so silent and
sad?"
"I am not sad, sweet sister," whispered the flower gently; "ah! no, but I
have seen an angel. Yestere'en, as I slept, my birdie, being all aweary
with gazing up into your bird-land home among the branches, and
watching the merry sunlight come and go, and strike shafts of golden
flame among the green, I dreamt of heaven and of the holy angels; and
lo! when I awoke, one there was who stood beside me, beautiful even
as is the sunlight or the