tes
searching her treasures in the hope of finding some toy which would
replace Susy's teapot.

Prudy and Dotty appeared at the gate in a very brief space; Prudy with
her mouth in the shape of the letter O, and Mrs. Parlin not far off, in
the act of fastening her breastpin.

"Well, boys, what is it?" said the good lady, smiling. "I hardly think
anything very serious has happened, either to you or the pony."

"_You_ tell," said Eddy to Charley; "I _dassn't_. The blacksmith's man
may be mad if I do. But he's abused this hoss, though," continued Eddy,
not waiting to let Charley speak for him; "he's abused him awfully! It's
right up and down mean; and three of us boys seen him!"

Susy clasped her hands, and performed a "stamp-act" on the pavement.

"See there," said Eddy, pointing triumphantly to Wings' left hind leg;
"see that--will you?"

True enough, there were two or three small wounds, out of which was
oozing thick dark blood. Susy looked as if her heart was breaking, but
not a word did she speak.

"Pete Grimes did that with his hobnail, cowhide boots!" said Eddy,
sternly.

"With his hammer, you _mean_," interposed Charley.

"With his _boot_, sir," persisted Eddy, with increasing eloquence.
"Didn't I see him, me and Dan Murphy? Didn't we stand there by the
coal-bin, sir? He booted him well, Mis' Parlin. I'll tell you where he
did it; here on the left side, ma'am. Look where the hair sticks up!
Pooty well mauled--ain't he, ma'am? Pete swore at him, too. Never heard
such talk--did you, Charley?"

"No, ma'am, I never did," replied Master Charley, addressing Mrs.
Parlin, who fancied she could detect on Wings' glossy hide the marks of
a boot, though there were no traces of the wicked oaths.

"It is a most abusive thing--if it is so," said she, with much feeling;
for if anything could move her gentle heart to anger, it was cruelty to
animals. "What made Mr. Grimes behave so strangely, boys? Was the pony
restless?"

"Restless? No, indeed, ma'am," replied Eddy, the orator; "as gentle as a
lamb, ma'am. It was Pete Grimes's wicked temper, and his wicked
disposition; that's what it was."

It was well for Susy that her over-strained feelings now found vent in
words and tears. "There is no grief like the grief which does not
speak." Her dumb agony gave way, and she wept and raved like a little
wild thing.

Mrs. Parlin ordered the boys to lead the pony around to the back door,
and there she washed out his wounds,