eyes looking about as
if terrified at the least noise, though they did not seem to be afraid
of Florence.

"Then there was an old gray pony named Peggy, past work, living in
a paddock, with nothing to do all day long but to amuse herself.
Whenever Florence appeared at the gate, Peggy would come trotting up
and put her nose into the dress pocket of her little mistress, and
pick it of the apple or the roll of bread that she knew she would
always find there, for this was a trick Florence had taught the
pony. Florence was fond of riding, and her father's old friend, the
clergyman of the parish, used often to come and take her for a ride
with him when he went to the farm cottages at a distance. He was a
good man and very kind to the poor.

"As he had studied medicine when a young man, he was able to tell the
people what would do them good when they were ill, or had met with an
accident. Little Florence took great delight in helping to nurse those
who were ill; and whenever she went on these long rides, she had a
small basket fastened to her saddle, filled with something nice which
she saved from her breakfast or dinner, or carried for her mother, who
was very good to the poor.

"There lived in one of two or three solitary cottages in the wood
an old shepherd of her father's, named Roger, who had a favorite
sheep-dog called Cap. Roger had neither wife nor child, and Cap lived
with him and kept him, and kept him company at night after he had
penned his flock. Cap was a very sensible dog; indeed, people used to
say he could do everything but speak. He kept the sheep in wonderfully
good order, and thus saved his master a great deal of trouble. One
day, as Florence and her old friend were out for a ride, they came
to a field where they found the shepherd giving his sheep their night
feed; but he was without the dog, and the sheep knew it, for they were
scampering in every direction. Florence and her friend noticed that
the old shepherd looked very sad, and they stopped to ask what was the
matter, and what had become of his dog.

"'Oh,' said Roger, 'Cap will never be of any more use to me; I'll have
to hang him, poor fellow, as soon as I go home to-night.'

"'Hang him!' said Florence. 'Oh, Roger, how wicked of you! What has
dear old Cap done?'

"'He has done nothing,' replied Roger; 'but he will never be of any
more use to me, and I cannot afford to keep him for nothing; one of
the mischievous school-boys throwed a stone a