What 's the man about now, I wonder ?" The parson had walked towards a chestnut-tree that stood on the village green; he broke off a bough, returned to the donkey, whisked away the flies, and then tenderly placed the broad leaves over the sore, as a protection from the swarms.

The donkey turned round its head, and looked at him with mild wonder.
"I would bet a shilling," said the parson, softly, "that this is the first act of kindness thou hast met with this many a day.

And slight enough it is, Heaven knows." With that the parson put his hand into his pocket, and drew out an apple.

It was a fine large rose-cheeked apple, one of the last winter's store from the celebrated tree in the parsonage garden, and he was taking it as a present to a little boy in the village who had notably distinguished himself in the Sunday-school.

"Nay, in common justice, Lenny Fairfield should have the preference," muttered the parson.