"So Daisy and the mother, and Bailey and I, went out of the room. Of course I expected to be conducted to the stables; but we began to mount the stairs, and up we went till we arrived at the third story, Bailey holding me fast by the hand. We went into a large room—the children's play-room—from the windows of which there was a magnificent view. Sitting at one of them, was the kind, motherly-looking nurse, to whom I was introduced as to an old friend. As I pressed her hand, her eyes turned fondly upon her mistress and the lovely children. I looked around, and sure enough, in one cor ner was a prancing charger, standing on his hind legs, which were made fast to a spring rocker, while the others were kicking up in the air, just as Bailey had told me.
"Then the little fellow was lifted up on his horse, and I said, "Get up, pony;" and then all of a sudden such a funny little shy fit came over Bailey, that down went his curly head on the horse's neck, and he very nearly tumbled off. After that he dismounted, and pulling down the prancing legs of the horse, got between them, and holding fast, he had a fine ride after an ingenious invention of his own; for, as the horse's legs rose in the air, up went little Bailey, and then down he came with a funny little stamp of his feet on the carpet, which sent him into the air again.
"Then the dear little fair-haired Daisy showed me her birds, 'Buttercup' and 'Primrose,' and two others whose names I did not hear; and then we went down stairs again.
"In the charming library we met another daughter, a lovely young lady, and a friend who was visiting her. I knew this young lady before, and loved her very much; and I was very glad to meet her; and you may be sure we were very merry together.
"Just then we heard Bailey's voice in the hall, lifted up in loud wailing and weeping. We all rushed out, thinking the sweet little fellow had fallen down stairs. But he was safe, though the great tears were running down his cheeks; and he sobbed out, 'Mamma! mamma! Edith won't come to see Aunt Fanny!' Dear little fellow! It seems that Edith was the shyest little maiden in the world, and Bailey, in his loving endeavor to get her to come to me, had first coaxed her, then kissed her over and over again, and at last, broken-hearted about it, had burst into loud crying. Edith stood at the turn of the stairs, ready to dart away; and when I said, 'Do come, darling—come, little Edith,' she fled like a frightened fawn, upon which Bailey began lamenting again, and I had hard work to bring the peace once more into his little, loving, troubled heart.
"When we returned to the room, Miss Laura, the young lady who was visiting the family, told a funny story about Bailey. She was walking in the beautiful glen before breakfast, and frolicking round her were Gouldy, and Cæsar, and Bailey."
"Were they all boys? or what?" asked the children.
"Not exactly, for two of them were dogs; but far better and gentler companions than some boys I know. Gouldy was a dear old fellow, that would not have hurt a hair of your head for a thousand dollars in gold, even if he knew about or cared for money; and Cæsar—Oh! he was something and somebody very extra indeed."
"What! did he have horns on his head?" asked Harry.
