in its driver an old acquaintance, The horses stopped, obedient to their master's "Whoa, Emma! whoa, Baby!" and stood patiently still in the water, which reached up to the hubs of the wheels.
"Won't you come up to the house and dine with us? I have a seat for you in the carriage," asked the driver. He had a cheery voice and kind blue eyes, and the group of children, of all sizes and ages, packed about him echoed the invitation in chorus.
"Do come up, Robert, and see my new pony," cried a boy, evidently the eldest.
"Monsieur Feuardent, you never made the kite you promised me," said a demure little girl.
"We 've got some new puppies," vouchsafed a chubby urchin of four.
"We 're going to have a great big turkey for dinner," added a wise maiden of six, who at an early age had divined the surest road to the masculine heart.
Which argument was the convincing one, I cannot say. Perhaps it was the combined attractions of the "great big turkey" and the "puppies," or it may have been that the prospect of seeing the new pony was too enticing to be resisted; in any case the fact is certain that five minutes later Robert was seated in the
