The old gentleman sat in his place, looking up at the little girl, who was smiling to herself as she watched the blue dragon-flies dance among the ferns, a blackbird tilt on the alderboughs, and listened to the babble of the brook.
“How old are you, child?” asked the old man, as if he rather envied this rosy creature her youth and health.
“Twelve to-day, sir;” and Marjorie stood up straight and tall, as if mindful of her years.
“Had any presents?” asked the old man, peering up with an odd smile.
“One, sir,—here it is;” and she pulled out of her pocket a tin savings-bank in the shape of a desirable family mansion, painted red, with a green door and black chimney. Proudly displaying it on the rude railing of the bridge, she added, with a happy face,—
“Granny gave it to me, and all the money in it is going to be mine.”
“How much have you got?” asked the old gentleman, who appeared to like to sit there in the middle of the brook, while Jack bathed his feet and leisurely gurgled and sneezed.
“Not a penny yet, but I'm going to earn some,” answered Marjorie, patting the little bank with an air of resolution pretty to see.
“How will you do it?” continued the inquisitive old man.
“Oh, I'm going to pick berries and dig dandelions, and weed, and drive cows, and do chores. It is vacation, and I can work all the time, and earn ever so much.”