Prudy thought the pony a beautiful "baby horse;" wanted to ride, and didn't want to; was afraid, and wasn't afraid, and, as her father said, "had as many minds as some politicians who are said to 'stand on the fence.'" By and by, after some coaxing, the timid little thing consented to sit behind Susy, and cling round her waist, if her father would walk beside her to make sure she didn't fall off. In this way they went home.

"I like to sit so I can hug my sister, while she drives the horse," said Prudy; "besides, it hurts me to walk."

Mr. Parlin and aunt Madge smiled at the child's speeches, but gave no more heed to this lameness of which she complained, than they did to any of the rest of her little freaks.

Prudy liked to be pitied for every small hurt; and when Susy had a sore throat, and wore a compress, she looked upon her with envy, and felt it almost as a personal slight that _her_ throat could not be wrapped in a compress too.

On their way they met "lame Jessie," a little girl with crooked spine and very high shoulders, who hobbled along on crutches.

"She's lamer than me," said Prudy. "Good morning, Jessie."

"I know what I've thought of," said Susy, who could talk of nothing which was not in some way connected with her pony. "I'm going to give that girl some rides. How happy she will be, poor little Jessie!"

"When you get your sleigh," said Mr. Parlin.

"My sleigh, papa? How many more presents are coming?"

"It is hard to tell, Susy; one gift makes way for another, you see.

First comes the pony; but how can he live without a stable, and a groom to feed him? Then what is a pony worth without a saddle? And, as one does not wish always to ride pony-back, a sleigh is the next thing."

"But, papa, you know in the summer!"

"Yes, my dear, in the summer, if we all live, there must be a light carriage made on purpose for you."

"There is one thing more that pony needs," said aunt Madge, stroking his eyebrows, "and that is, a name."

"O, I never thought of that," said Susy; "help me find a name, auntie."

"Let me think. I should call him something good and pleasant. Think of something good and pleasant Think of something you like very much."

"O, Frosted Cake," cried Prudy: "wouldn't that be pleasant? Susy loves that."

"I should like to name him for the American Eagle," said Susy, who had heard some patriotic speeches from her cousin Percy; "only you couldn't pet that name, could you?"

"You might call him Don Carlos, or Don Pedro," suggested Mr. Parlin.

"No, papa; only think of Donny: that is like Donkey! You haven't any long ears, _have_ you, pony? If you had, I'd call you Little Pitcher, for 'little pitchers have great ears.' That makes me think of Mr. Allen, auntie. How big his ears are, you know? _Is_ it because his teacher pulled them so?"

"O, call him 'Gustus,'" cried Prudy.

"But that would soon be Gusty," said aunt Madge, "and would sound too much like the east wind."

"Dear me," sighed Susy; "who'd ever think it was such hard work to find names?"

"O, look," said Prudy, as they pa.s.sed a jaded old horse; "there is a pony just exactly like this! Only it's twice as big, you know, and not a _bit_ such a color!"

"Well, there, Prudy," said Susy, disdainfully, "I thought, when you began to speak, you was going to tell something! Why don't you wait till you have something to say? Please give me a list of names, papa."

"There's Speedwell, Lightfoot, Zephyr, Prince, Will-o'-the-wisp--"

"I might call him Wispy," broke in Susy. "Zephyr is good, only it makes you think of worsteds."

"Now, listen," said aunt Madge; "you might call him Elephant, just for sport, because he is in reality so very little. Or, on the other hand, you might find the least speck of a name, like Firefly, or Midge."

"I don't like any of those," replied Susy, still dissatisfied.

"I see," said aunt Madge, laughing, "nothing will please you but a great name. What say to Pegasus, a flying horse, which poets are said to ride?

It might be shortened to Peggy."

"Now, auntie, you wouldn't have this beautiful pony called Peggy; you know you wouldn't! the one my father bought on purpose for me! But was there such a horse, truly?"

"O, no; there is an old fable, which, as we say, is 'as true now as it ever was,' of a glorious creature with wings, and whoever mounts him gets a flying ride into the clouds. But the trouble is to catch him!"

"O, I wish my pony could fly," said Susy, gazing dreamily at his black mane and sleek sides. "The first place I'd go to would be the moon; and there I'd stay till I built a castle as big as a city. I'd come home every night, so mother wouldn't be frightened, and fly up in the morning, and--and--"

"See here," said Prudy, who had for some time been trying to speak; "call him _Wings_!"

"So I will," answered Susy, quickly, "and I'll make believe he flies in the air like a bird. Now, auntie, what do you think of Wings?"

"Odd enough, I'm sure, my dear."

"Well, _I_ like it," returned Susy, with a positive shake of the head.

"It's of no use to keep fussing so long over a name, and I feel a great deal easier, now I've made up my mind! Dear little Wings, you p.r.i.c.k up your ears, and I know you like it, too. I wish you had a soul, so you could be taken to church, and christened like a baby."

Just here Susy was startled by a sudden laugh from cousin Percy, who had for some moments been walking behind the pony un.o.bserved.

"You're enough to frighten any one to death," she screamed, "creeping about like a cat."

Susy had a foolish dread of being laughed at.

"Creeping like a cat," echoed Percy, "while you creep like a snail! What will you take for your pony, that can fly in the air like a bird, but can't walk on the ground any better than a goose?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Susy, quite excited: "if you want to see anybody ride fast, just look here." And she started the pony at full speed, regardless of Prudy, who was so frightened, that she seized poor Wings by his flowing mane, and called out for her sister to stop. But Susy dashed on at a flying pace, and Percy cried after her, "O, Susy, cousin Susy, what think of your Christmas present? Will you remember not to eat it, and not to hang it on a nail? Susy, Susy?"

There was hardly a happier child living than Susy, during those delightful holidays. She said to herself, sometimes, that this was such a beautiful world, she couldn't think of a single thing that wasn't as splendid as it could be.

CHAPTER V.

PRUDY'S TROUBLE.

The happy days flew by. The Old Year was worn out, and the New Year stepped in fresh and youthful. Susy found her little sleigh a very comfortable affair; and so, I think, did "lame Jessie." When her father found that Susy had really chosen for her pony the name of Wings, he ordered a beautiful picture of the Flying Horse to be painted on the dashboard of the sleigh.

Susy was delighted with this, and her vivid fancy took wings at once, and flew away to the other end of the world, where her aunt Madge told her the fountain of Pirene was said to gush out of a hill-side.

"Only think," said she to Flossy; "it was a woman once, that fountain was; but she poured her life all out into tears, crying because her son was killed. So the fountain is made of tears!"