t when I
come back. Mr. Gulliver went to the horse-country and heard the dear
things speak their own tongue."

"My father has been on the prairies, where there's lots of wild ones,
but he didn't hear 'em speak. I know what they want without talkin',"
answered Ben, suspecting a joke, but not exactly seeing what it was.

"I don't doubt it, but I won't forget the book. Good-by, my lad, we
shall soon meet again," and away went Miss Celia as if she were in a
hurry to get back.

"If she only had a red habit and a streamin' white feather, she'd look
as fine as 'Melia used to. She is 'most as kind and rides 'most as well.
Wonder where she's goin' to. Hope she will come soon," thought Ben,
watching till the last flutter of the blue habit vanished round the
corner; and then he went back to his work with his head full of the
promised book, pausing now and then to chink the two silver halves and
the new quarter together in his pocket, wondering what he should buy
with this vast sum.

Bab and Betty meantime had had a most exciting day; for when they went
home at noon they found the pretty lady there, and she had talked to
them like an old friend, given them a ride on the little horse, and
kissed them both good-by when they went back to school. In the afternoon
the lady was gone, the old house all open, and their mother sweeping,
airing, in great spirits. So they had a splendid frolic tumbling on
feather-beds, beating bits of carpet, opening closets, and racing from
garret to cellar like a pair of distracted kittens.

Here Ben found them, and was at once overwhelmed with a burst of news
which excited him as much as it did them. Miss Celia owned the house,
was coming to liver there, and things were to be made ready as soon as
possible. All thought the prospect a charming one: Mrs. Moss, because
life had been dull for her during the year she had taken charge of the
old house; the little girls had heard rumors of various pets who were
coming; and Ben, learning that a boy and a donkey were among them,
resolved that nothing but the arrival of his father should tear him from
this now deeply interesting spot.

"I'm in such a hurry to see the peacocks and hear them scream. She said
they did, and that we'd laugh when old Jack brayed," cried Bab, hopping
about on one foot to work off her impatience.

"Is a faytun a kind of a bird? I heard her say she could keep it in the
coach-house," asked Betty, inquiringly.

"It's a little carriag