The gas was lit in the entrance-hall of a big house in a country town. A little white-frocked child raced to the door to meet a tall, handsome man who had just entered.
"Papa! papa! the old wocking-horse is tum—it was youse when you was ickle boy; tum and see it."
The father perched his little son on his shoulder and mounted the stairs to the nursery, where the firelight danced on the walls.
The old rocking-horse was waiting, almost faint with joy; he was soon to see his beloved master, to feel his caress.
The father placed his son on the floor, and advanced to his old playmate.
"What an old scarecrow!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Whatever could your aunt have been thinking of to send it! We will despatch it to be chopped up for firewood, and buy you a new one."
So the old horse was carried off to the back yard.
But nobody knew that his heart was broken!