ave a way of doing.
But children understand these things better than old folks who have
grown dull. Basil knew quite well that the old horse had _sighed_, and
he asked him what was the matter.

"I was only wishing some one would smarten me up a bit," said the
horse. "My left eye is in that box with the tin soldiers. My tail is
tied to a stick in that cupboard where the tools are--a bit of glue
would stick both in. And one stirrup is nailed to the table-drawer for
a handle. It could be got off, and tied to my saddle-strap with a bit
of string. My mane is gone for ever. Johnny put it on a mask for
whiskers one Guy Fawkes' day, and Herbert threw it in the bonfire. I
don't suppose any of the nails can be got out that Tom knocked into my
sides; they are in too tight. Nor can the buttons and marbles be got
out of my inside that Johnny put in through the hole in my neck. But I
might be smartened up a little!"

"Oh, if that is all you want I dare say I can help you," said Basil,
jumping up and running to the cupboard. "Here's your tail, anyway! and
here's a bottle of liquid glue too. Now I'll look for your eye."

"You know," went on the old horse, "I heard the mother saying the other
day that she would send me back to my old home if I were not so shabby."

Basil, who had found the missing eye, was now fixing it in its place
with plenty of glue, which ran down and dropped off the horse's nose.
Basil was sure he saw a tear drop from the other eye.

"Does it hurt?" he asked sympathetically.

"Oh, I don't mind that," said the horse. "It is like old times to be
hurt by a little boy; besides, one must always suffer if one would look
fine."

"Yes; nurse says something like that when I cry while she combs my
hair," said Basil.

"Robbie 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