Mary: A Nursery Story for Very Little Children

“You may just be patient for a while, Master Leigh,” said nurse; “you know your papa’s promised you a pony when you’re ten years old, and by that time baby will be nearly two.”

“That won’t matter,” said Leigh, “even Mary won’t be able to ride my pony. It’s to be a real sensible one, not a stupid donkey sort of pony, with panniers or a basket on its back.”

“No,” said Artie, “it’s to be a galoppy-trot one! Won’t we make him go, Leigh.”

“I shall,” said Leigh; “you won’t have much to say to it. You’ll be too little too.”

Artie’s face fell. Mary, who was sitting beside him, slipped her little hand into his.

“Nebber mind, Artie,” she said. “We’ll ask papa to give us anoder pony. A very gentle one for you and me and baby.”

“A perambulator will be more in baby’s way,” said nurse. “Miss Mary’s old one is quite worn out and they do make such pretty ones nowadays. I hope your mamma will get her a very nice one.”

“And may we push it sometimes?” said Artie, brightening up again, “that would be nice.”

Leigh gave a little laugh.

“What a baby you are, Artie,” he was beginning, but nurse, who saw that he was in one of his teasing humours, looked up quickly.

“It’s such a fine evening,” she said, “and it’s scarcely five o’clock. How would you like to go out a little walk? We didn’t go very far to-day. We might go as far as the Lavender Cottages, I’ve something to take there from your mamma.”

The boys looked very pleased.

“Oh yes, nurse,” they said, “do let’s go out.”

“And mayn’t we stop and see the puppies at the smithy on the way?” Leigh went on.

“I’m f’ightened of those little barky dogs,” said Mary; “I don’t want to go out, nurse, I’m sleepy.”

“It’ll do you good, my dear, to have a little walk before you go to bed; you’ll sleep all the better for it and wake all the fresher in the morning,” and a few minutes afterwards, when the little party were walking down the drive, Mary looked quite bright again.

It was a very lovely evening. The way to the Lavender Cottages lay across the fields, and, as every one knows, there is nothing prettier than a long stretch of grass land with the tender spring green lighted up by late afternoon sunshine.

Mary trotted along contentedly, thinking to herself.

“My birfday’s going to bed soon,” she thought, “and to-morrow morning it’ll be gone – gone away for a long, long time,” and she gave a little sigh. “But somefins won’t be gone away, all my birfday presents will stay, and baby sister will stay, and when my birfday comes back again it will be hers too. Dear little baby sister! I wish her had comed out a walk wif us, the sun is so pitty.”