bleman," shouted a boy, "who had a wall-eyed horse! He
wanted to cover up the defect, and I think it is a great shame that all
the American horses have to suffer because that English one had an ugly
eye."

"So do I," said the president. "Three groans for blinders, boys."

All the children in the room made three dreadful noises away down in
their throats. Then they had another good laugh, and the president
became sober again. "Seven more minutes," he said; "this meeting has got
to be let out at five sharp."

A tall girl at the back of the room rose, and said. "My little cousin
has two stories that she would like to tell the band."

"Very well," said the president; "bring her right along."

The big girl came forward, leading a tiny child that she placed in front
of the boys and girls. The child stared up into her cousin's face,
turning and twisting her white pinafore through her fingers. Every time
the big girl took her pinafore away from her, she picked it up again.
"Begin, Nannie," said the big girl, kindly.

"Well, Cousin Eleanor," said the child, "you know Topsy, Graham's pony.
Well, Topsy _would_ run away, and a big, big man came out to papa and
said he would train Topsy. So he drove her every day, and beat her, and
beat her, till he was tired, but still Topsy would run away. Then papa
said he would not have the poor pony whipped so much, and he took her
out a piece of bread every day, and he petted her, and now Topsy is very
gentle, and never runs away."

"Tell about Tiger," said the girl.

"Well, Cousin Eleanor," said the child, "you know Tiger, our big dog. He
used to be a bad dog, and when Dr. Fairchild drove up to the house he
jumped up and bit at him. Dr. Fairchild used to speak kindly to him, and
throw out bits of meat, and now when he comes, Tiger follows behind and
wags his tail. Now, give me a kiss."

The girl had to give her a kiss, right up there before every one, and
what a stamping the boys made. The larger girl blushed and hurried back
to her seat, with the child clinging to her hand.

There was one more story, about a brave Newfoundland dog, that saved
eight lives by swimming out to a wrecked sailing vessel, and getting a
rope by which the men came ashore, and then a lad got up whom they all
greeted with cheers, and cries of, "The Poet! the Poet!" I didn't know
what they meant, till Mrs. Wood whispered to Miss Laura that he was a
boy who made rhymes, and the children had rather hear him spe