to
sell. I am glad you like it."

"Yes, I like it very much. I could skip all day with it."

"Well, don't do that, for I want to have a hopping-race with you, and
then we will try the new jump. Where is it?"

"It is just at the end of the playground, over hurdles. They are not
very high, and I think I can jump over them. I know you can, and now
that you are here I will try."

And Maud put her skipping-rope into the brown paper, and laid it on the
bench.

"We will hop down to the hurdles, and then we will have a grand
jumping-match," said Philip.

[Illustration: "There's no compassion like a penny."]

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AN EVENTFUL JOURNEY.

Patty was fifteen when she left home for the first time to pay a visit
to her Aunt Martha in London. Patty's home was in the country (for her
father was a farmer), so she was very eager to see all the wonders of
London. Her father drove her into the market-town very early on the
morning of her departure, and as it was a very busy day with him, he was
obliged to leave her in the coach office all by herself, as the London
coach was not expected to start for half an hour. Patty kissed her
father with tears in her eyes, and he blessed her; and telling her to be
a good girl and "not learn silly town ways," he strode off, whip in
hand, towards the market-place, leaving Patty alone with her
possessions.

They were not many--a leathern trunk that held all her wardrobe, a
basket of flowers that hid a dozen of the largest and freshest eggs from
her mother's poultry-yard, and last--to Patty's extreme annoyance--a
doll that her mother had insisted on making and sending to little Betsy,
Aunt Martha's youngest child. Patty herself had not long passed the age
for loving dolls, and was, therefore, all the more sensitive on the
subject; so when the coach came thundering into the yard, and she was
called to take her place by a man who addressed her as "Little Missy,"
she was ready to shed tears of vexation. Patty had to remember her
mother's words, to "take great care of the doll, as it had been a lot of
trouble to make," otherwise she might have been tempted to leave it
behind, or let it drop out of the coach window.

Windsor was passed after a time, then Staines, and as the twilight came
on the coach was going at a good pace, with the last rays of sunset to
the left behind it, and the dark stretch of Hounslow Heath, with its
dis