don’t go to see them.”

“How can you be frightened of them, Mary?” said Leigh. “It’s really very silly! They’re only baby dogs, don’t you understand; they couldn’t hurt anybody.”

This was quite a new idea to Mary, and she stopped short on the second step of the stile to think about it.

“Baby dogs,” she said, “I never thought little dogs was babies. Is there babies of everything, Leigh?”

“Of course there are. Don’t you remember the baby ducks? And the little lambs are baby sheep, and even the tiny buds are baby flowers.”

“And babies never hurts nobody, does they?” said Mary, as she got safely to the ground again with the help of her brother’s hand. “Then I won’t be f’ightened, Leigh, of the little doggies. You may take me to see them,” and as Leigh hurried on to the smithy, which he thought the most delightful place in the world, Mary trotted beside him as fast as her little legs could go, holding firmly to him while she said over to herself, though in rather a trembling voice—

“I never thought them was baby dogs, babies don’t hurt nobody.”

Yakeman the smith was standing in front of his forge, taking a rest after the day’s work.

“Good-evening, Master Leigh,” he said, as the children came up to him. “Come for a look at the puppies, sir? They’re getting on finely. Would Missie like to see them too?” and he turned to open a little gate leading into his garden.

Leigh looked down at Mary, not quite sure what she would feel about it. Her face was rather red, and she pinched his hand more tightly.

“Would you like to see them, Mary?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m not f’ightened now,” she answered bravely.

“You’ve no call to be afear’d,” said Yakeman, as he led the way.

“No,” said Mary, “’cos them’s only babies.”

The puppies were all tumbling over each other in a comfortable nest of hay in the corner of a shed. There were four of them, brown curly balls, nearly as soft and fluffy as Leigh’s favourite ducklings.

Yakeman stooped down and picked one up with his big hand and held it close to Mary. She stroked it gently with the very tip of her fingers.

“It are sweet,” she said, with a rather shaky little laugh, and as no harm came of her touching it, she grew still braver.

“May I kiss its little head?” she said, looking up at the tall blacksmith, who smiled down on her.

“To be sure, Missie,” said he, so Mary buried her nose in the brown fur, suddenly giving a little cry as she felt something warm and wet on her cheek.

“He’s licking you,” said Leigh; “I dare say he means it for kissing though. I say, Mary, wouldn’t it be nice if papa would let us have a puppy for our very own.”

“A baby puppy and a baby sister,” said Mary. “Did you know us had got a baby sister?” she went on, to the smith. “Her comed to-day ’cos it were my birfday.”

“That was a fine birthday present,” said Yakeman, “and you’d be welcome to this puppy if your papa would allow you to have it. I’ve promised two and I’m keeping one myself, but this here I’d not settled about.”

Mary’s eyes sparkled, and so did Leigh’s. “We’d have him between us, Mary,” said Leigh. “We must ask papa. You’d better ask him because of its being your birthday, you know.”

Just then they heard nurse’s voice, she had been waiting for Artie while he had another ride on the stile.

“Master Leigh and Miss Mary, where are you?” she said. “We must be getting on.”

The children thanked the smith and ran after her, full of the offer which had been made to them.

“Oh, nurse,” said Mary, when they had told her of it. “Just fink of all my birfday presents! A baby sister and a baby dog, and all my nother things,” and she gave a great sigh of pleasure.

“Yes, indeed, Miss Mary,” said nurse. “I don’t think you’ll ever forget your fourth birthday.”