s 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."

"Let me think. I should call him something good and pleasant. Think of
something good and pleasant Think of something you like very much."

"O, Frosted Cake," cried Prudy: "wouldn't that be pleasant? Susy loves
that."

"I should like to name him for the American Eagle," said Susy, who had
heard some patriotic speeches from her cousin Percy; "only you couldn't
pet that name, could you?"

"You might call him Don Carlos, or Don Pedro," suggested Mr. Parlin.

"No, papa; only think of Donny: that is like Donkey! You haven't any
long ears, _have_ you, pony? If you had, I'd call you Little Pitcher,
for 'little pitchers have great ears.' That makes me think of Mr. Allen,
auntie. How big his ears are, you know? _Is_ it because his teacher
pulled them so?"

"O, call him 'Gustus,'" cried Prudy.

"But that would soon be Gusty," said aunt Madge, "and would sound too
much like t