"Good little lass!" said the old gentleman, as he put his hand in
his pocket. "Would you now?" he added, apparently addressing himself
to a large frog who sat upon a stone, looking so wise and
grandfatherly that it really did seem quite proper to consult him.
At all events, he gave his opinion in the most decided manner, for,
with a loud croak, he turned an undignified somersault into the
brook, splashing up the water at a great rate. "Well, perhaps it
wouldn't be best on the whole. Industry is a good teacher, and money
cannot buy happiness, as I know to my sorrow."

The old gentleman still seemed to be talking to the frog, and as he
spoke he took his hand out of his pocket with less in it than he had
at first intended.

"What a very queer person!" thought Marjorie, for she had not heard
a word, and wondered what he was thinking about down there.

Jack walked out of the brook just then, and she ran to check him up;
not an easy task for little hands, as he preferred to nibble the
grass on the bank. But she did it cleverly, smoothed the ruffled
mane, and, dropping another curtsy, stood aside to let the little
carriage pass.

"Thank you, child--thank you. Here is something for your bank, and
good luck to it."

As he spoke, the old man laid a bright gold dollar in her hand,
patted the rosy cheek, and vanished in a cloud of dust, leaving
Marjorie so astonished at the grandeur of the gift, that she stood
looking at it as if it had been a fortune. It was to her; and