lled to the donkey, in a sing-song
voice as he drove away, and Tim, who seemed to understand his language,
galloped after the van as fast as he could put his four little feet to
the ground.

There was a slight difference of opinion between Mary and Tim when the
former, taking the baker's advice, turned down a narrow road to the
right.

Tim wished to follow the van, and for a few anxious moments, Mary was
afraid that he would be victorious.

'This is a very exciting drive,' said Harry in an awe-struck voice, as
the donkey turned the corner so sharply that for an instant they all
expected to find themselves lying in the ditch.

'Very!' answered his aunt.

She had her eyes on the donkey, and her hand on the door of the cart,
which was open, and ready to be used as an 'emergency exit.'

'Oh!' she gasped nervously, as Tim showed a strong desire to climb the
steep bank by the side of the road, 'I don't think I agree with you,
Mary, that this donkey is a "perfect dear!"'

'He is a deceitful little brute,' said Mary angrily, 'and he will never
be safe for the children.'

No sooner did Tim turn in at the Lodge gates than he became the same
sweet, docile little creature that had trotted out, and as Mrs. Raeburn
watched him come down the avenue she gave a sigh of relief.

'We were in luck to get such a treasure,' she thought, 'and I feel
certain that no one could guess he had come straight from a
greengrocer's cart; he looks such a little gentleman.'

(_Continued on page 398._)

[Illustration: "All went well at first."]

[Illustration: "'It's Captain Halliard!'"]

A MODERN WIZARD.

'Come along, Gussie, quick! Here! in by the garden-door.'

'Oh! what is it, Jack?'

'S--sh! Can't you make less noise? Just like a girl!'

Grumbling and muttering, he stole into the schoolroom--deserted now at
three o'clock in the afternoon--followed on tip-toe by his younger
sister, Augusta.

She eyed his movements eagerly, as he let down the Venetian shutters,
drew together the heavy serge curtains, and poked up the sleepy fire
till little tongues of red light darted mysteriously about the room.
Then he thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew out something!

Gussie retreated into a corner, and clasped her hands together.

'Not a mouse, Jack? Oh! I can't bear them--please, please----!'

'Are you nine, or are you _two_, Gussie?' asked Master Twelve-year-old.

He put a dirty, yellowish mass on the table. Gussie appro