"Twelve to-day, sir;" and Marjorie stood up straight and tall, as if
mindful of her years.
"Had any presents?" asked the old man, peering up with an odd smile.
"One, sir,--here it is;" and she pulled out of her pocket a tin
savings-bank in the shape of a desirable family mansion, painted
red, with a green door and black chimney. Proudly displaying it on
the rude railing of the bridge, she added, with a happy face,--
"Granny gave it to me, and all the money in it is going to be mine."
"How much have you got?" asked the old gentleman, who appeared to
like to sit there in the middle of the brook, while Jack bathed his
feet and leisurely gurgled and sneezed.
"Not a penny yet, but I'm going to earn some," answered Marjorie,
patting the little bank with an air of resolution pretty to see.
"How will you do it?" continued the inquisitive old man.
"Oh, I'm going to pick berries and dig dandelions, and weed, and
drive cows, and do chores. It is vacation, and I can work all the
time, and earn ever so much."
"But vacation is play-time,--how about that?"
"Why, that sort of work IS play, and I get bits of fun all along.
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