"See his poor legs all swelled up, and the bones in his back, and the burrs the bad boys put in his mane, and the dusty grass he has to eat. Look! he knows me, and isn't afraid, because I'm good to him," said Ned, patting old Major, who gratefully ate fresh clover from the friendly little hand.
"Yes, and he lets me stroke his nose, mamma. It's as soft as velvet, and his big eyes don't frighten me a bit, they are so gentle. Oh, if we could only put him in our field, and keep him till he dies, I should be so happy!" said Posy, with such a wheedlesome arm about mamma's neck, that it was very hard to deny her any thing.
"If you will let me have Major, I won't ask for any other birthday present," cried Ned, with a sudden burst of generosity, inspired, perhaps, by the confiding way in which the poor beast rubbed his gray head against the boy's shoulder.
"Why, Neddy, do you really mean that? I was going to give you something you want very much. Shall I take you at your word, and give you a worn-out old horse instead?" asked mamma, surprised, yet pleased at the offer.
Ned looked at her, then at old Major, and wavered; for he guessed that the other gift was the little wheelbarrow he had begged for so long,—the dear green one, with the delicious creak and rumble to it. He had seen it at the store, and tried it, and longed for it, and planned to trundle every thing in it, from Posy to a load of hay. Yes, it must be his, and Major must be left to his fate.
Just as he decided this, however, Posy gave a cry that told him Mr. White was coming. Major pressed further into the prickly hedge, with a patient sort of sigh, and a look that went to Ned's heart, for it seemed to say,—
"Good by, little friend. Don't give up any thing for me. I'm not worth it, for I can only love you in return."
Mr. White was very near, but Major was safe; for, with a sudden red in his freckled cheeks, Ned put his arm on the poor beast's drooping neck, and said, manfully,—
"I choose him, mamma; and now he's mine, I'd like to see anybody touch him!"
It was a pretty sight,—the generous little lad befriending the old horse, and loving him for pure pity's sake, in the sweet childish way we so soon forget.