him backward and forward till he did not know where he was, he
began to think perhaps he had better begin. The first thing he said,
after he opened his eyes, and made believe he had been asleep, or
something, was, "Well, what did I leave off at?" and that made them just
perfectly boiling, for they understood his tricks, and they knew he was
trying to pretend that he had told part of the story already; and they
said he had not left off anywhere because he had not commenced, and he
saw it was no use. So he commenced.

"Once there was a little Pony Engine that used to play round the
Fitchburg Depot on the side tracks, and sleep in among the big
locomotives in the car-house--"

The little girl lifted her head from the papa's shoulder, where she had
dropped it. "Is it a sad story, papa?"

"How is it going to end?" asked the boy.

"Well, it's got a moral," said the papa.

"Oh, all right, if it's got a moral," said the children; they had a good
deal of fun with the morals the papa put to his stories. The boy added,
"Go on," and the little girl prompted, "Car-house."

The papa said, "Now every time you stop me I shall have to begin all
over again." But he saw that this was not going to spite them any, so he
went on: "One of the locomotives was its mother, and she had got hurt
once in a big smash-up, so that she couldn't run long trips any more.
She was so weak in the chest you could hear her wheeze as far as you
could see her. But she could work round the depot, and pull empty cars
in and out, and shunt them off on the side tracks; and she was so
anxious to be useful that all the other engines respected her, and they
were very kind to the little Pony Engine on her account, though it was
always getting in the way, and under their wheels, and everything. They
all knew it was an orphan, for before its mother got hurt its father
went through a bridge one dark night into an arm of the sea, and was
never heard of again; he was supposed to have been drowned. The old
mother locomotive used to say that it would never have happened if she
had been there; but poor dear No. 236 was always so venturesome, and she
had warned him against that very bridge time and again. Then she would
whistle so dolefully, and sigh with her air-brakes enough to make
anybody cry. You see they used to be a very happy family when they were
all together, before the papa locomotive got drowned. He was very fond
of the little Pony Engine, and told it stories