"Since you have already seen the garden," said she, condescendingly, "you must go to the point from which we have the best view.

I am on my way thither now, if you like to follow." Anton followed, lost in delight.

The lady bade her horse walk slowly, and played the cicerone.

At last she dismounted and led the pony, whereupon Anton ventured to stroke his neck--an attention which the little fellow took in good part, and returned by sniffing his coat pockets.

"He trusts you," said the young lady; "he is a sagacious beast." She then tied the bridle round his neck, told him to go home, and turning to Anton, added, "We are going into the flower-garden, where he must not come; and so, you see, he trots back to his stable." "This pony is a perfect wonder," cried Anton.
"He is very fond of me; he does all I tell him," was the reply.
Anton thought that the most natural thing in the world.
"I think you are of a good family," said the little lady, decidedly, looking at Anton with a discriminating air.
"No," replied he, sadly.