“Then there was an old gray pony named Peggy, past work, living in a paddock, with nothing to do all day long but to amuse herself.  Whenever Florence appeared at the gate, Peggy would come trotting up and put her nose into the dress pocket of her little mistress, and pick it of the apple or the roll of bread that she knew she would always find there, for this was a trick Florence had taught the pony.  Florence was fond of riding, and her father’s old friend, the clergyman of the parish, used often to come and take her for a ride with him when he went to the farm cottages at a distance.  He was a good man and very kind to the poor.

“As he had studied medicine when a young man, he was able to tell the people what would do them good when they were ill, or had met with an accident.  Little Florence took great delight in helping to nurse those who were ill; and whenever she went on these long rides, she had a small basket fastened to her saddle, filled with something nice which she saved from her breakfast or dinner, or carried for her mother, who was very good to the poor.

“There lived in one of two or three solitary cottages in the wood an old shepherd of her father’s, named Roger, who had a favorite sheep-dog called Cap.  Roger had neither wife nor child, and Cap lived with him and kept him, and kept him company at night after he had penned his flock.  Cap was a very sensible dog; indeed, people used to say he could do everything but speak.  He kept the sheep in wonderfully good order, and thus saved his master a great deal of trouble.  One day, as Florence and her old friend were out for a ride, they came to a field where they found the shepherd giving his sheep their night feed; but he was without the dog, and the sheep knew it, for they were scampering in every direction.  Florence and her friend noticed that the old shepherd looked very sad, and they stopped to ask what was the matter, and what had become of his dog.

“‘Oh,’ said Roger, ’Cap will never be of any more use to me; I’ll have to hang him, poor fellow, as soon as I go home to-night.’

“‘Hang him!’ said Florence.  ’Oh, Roger, how wicked of you!  What has dear old Cap done?’

“‘He has done nothing,’ replied Roger; ’but he will never be of any more use to me, and I cannot afford to keep him for nothing; one of the mischievous school-boys throwed a stone at him yesterday, and broke one of his legs.’  And the old shepherd’s eyes filled with tears, which he wiped away with his shirt-sleeve; then he drove his spade deep in the ground to hide what he felt, for he did not like to be seen crying.

“‘Poor Cap!’ he sighed; ‘he was as knowing almost as a human being.’

“‘But are you sure his leg is broken?’ asked Florence.

“’Oh, yes, miss, it is broken safe enough; he has not put his foot to the ground since.’

“Florence and her friend rode on without saying anything more to Roger.

“‘We will go and see poor Cap,’ said the vicar; ’I don’t believe the leg is really broken.  It would take a big stone and a hard blow to break the leg of a big dog like Cap.’