Eunice’s pet was a beauty, for it was a snow-white pony, which her godmother had given her the summer before. It carried her in the saddle beautifully, or was harnessed to the little light cart which held two. Fine times the children had with Charcoal, named so, on Donald’s advice, because it wasn’t black.
The twins owned between them the cunningest and brightest little Scotch terrier, named Duster, from his feathery tail, which, of course, he always carried straight up in the air. Another dog, named Dixie, of no particular breed, but of very social nature, belonged to the family in general, though Cricket laid claim to him, until she had Mopsie.
And who was Mopsie? It is rather a humiliating fact, but I may as well confess it at once—Mopsie was, or had been, nothing but a poor little circus pony.
Cricket, at first, was rather ashamed of Mopsie’s past history, considering that Eunice had her beautiful Charcoal, who had been born and brought up in a gentleman’s stable. The boys teased her about her “aristocratic pony,” till she would say, rather indignantly, “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter a bit what a person does, if he does it just the best he can, mamma says so. And it’s just the same with a pony. I know my Mopsie was the nicest horse in the circus, for the men said so. There!”
But after this particular day no one ever teased her again.
If Mopsie could have spoken, he could have told them many stories of his circus life. He was, certainly, a very bright, sweet-tempered little creature, and knew no end of tricks, more indeed, than the children ever suspected, for there was no one to tell him to do them, or who knew what he could do. He could sit up like a dog, and hop around on his hind legs, keeping time to music,—this had been called dancing on the programme,—and jump through hoops, and many other things.
For a long time the children wondered why, as soon as the cart, to which he was harnessed, stopped, he would try to turn himself around beside the wheels. But this was a trick he had been taught. The clown in the circus would drive him round and round the ring, and as soon as he stopped, it was pony’s business to turn himself directly around, for the front wheels were low enough to slip under the cart. Then the clown would pretend he couldn’t find him, because the pony was no longer in front, and he would pretend to look down in the sawdust for him, and in his pocket, saying, “Now, where is Alexander the Great gone?” for that was pony’s name before he was Mopsie.
Another thing he had been trained to do was to pick up and carry really heavy things in his teeth, and run away with them, while the clown ran after him, shouting “Stop!” but the little fellow knew he must not stop till he heard his name as well.
All these, and many more tricks Mopsie had been in the habit of doing before great crowds every afternoon and evening.
At last came one afternoon that Mopsie little thought was to be his last in the circus. The circus had come to Wellsboro’, and Mike, Doctor Ward’s groom, had gone to see it. He was so fond of horses that he was always hanging around the tents where they were kept, and making friends with the hostlers.