THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FAEM. 51 



Tell the truth, Viky: me won't scold. Yes, her did, 

 me know." 



" Be off, you young mischief there. I can't write 

 while you chatter." And off he trots, with his affec- 

 tionate follower cantering in orthodox style after him, 

 having one hind leg tucked up as though to save her 

 boot. 



Bless their little hearts ! one cannot watch and listen 

 to these prattlers witliout feeling somewhat gladdened 

 under the worst of circumstances. 



The other morning as I went to pay my visit of inspec- 

 tion to the stables, hearing peals of childish laughter, 

 I turned into a spare loose-box, where I found my 

 juveniles convulsed by the woful countenance and the 

 uncertain steps of a pair of fat puppies that they 

 had put to take a constitutional along the Shetland 

 pony's shaggy back ; the fond parent, Vic, looking on, 

 and wagging her tail, and trying to show (whether she 

 told the truth or not I don't know) that she quite 

 approved of their diversion, having, no doubt, an ulte- 

 rior view to toast-and-milk in the school-room. 



It was a beautiful sight to see her and her little 

 plump dark-tan rough family when we first found them 

 after she had littered. 



She had been howling and barking for several days, 

 until she disappeared altogether. We had begun to be 

 uneasy about her, when she was seen walking calmly to 

 the back-door, considerably reduced in outward show. 

 After refreshment we followed her back into a wood, 

 where, under the tangled roots of a wych elm, she had 

 dug herself a nest. It was in a fine situation, com- 

 manding a lovely view. And here, incessantly barking 

 at imaginary enemies, she kept watch and ward over 



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