It certainly was, and, to judge from the peals of merriment, the
joke was a good one. In at the gate came a two-headed donkey,
ridden by Grif, in great spirits at his success, for the gate-keeper
laughed so he never thought to ask for toll. A train of boys
followed him across the ground, lost in admiration of the animal
and the cleverness of her rider. Among the stage properties of the
Dramatic Club was the old ass’s head once used in some tableaux
from “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” This Grif had mended up, and
fastened by means of straps and a collar to poor Graciosa’s neck,
hiding ~ work with a red cloth over her back. One eye was gone,
but the other still opened and shut, and the long ears wagged by
means of strings, which he slyly managed with the bridle, so the
artificial head looked almost as natural as the real one. The
funniest thing of all was the innocent air of Graciosa, and the
mildly inquiring expression with which she now and then turned to
look at or to smell of the new ornament as if she recognized a
friend’s face, yet was perplexed by its want of animation. She
vented her feelings in a bray, which Grif imitated, convulsing all
hearers by the sound as well as by the wink the one eye gave, and
the droll waggle of one erect ear, while the other pointed straight
forward.
The girls laughed so at the ridiculous sight that they nearly fell
over the railing, and the boys were in ecstasies, especially when
Grif, emboldened by his success, trotted briskly round the
race-course, followed by the cheers of the crowd. Excited by the
noise, Graciosa did her best, till the false head, loosened by the
rapid motion, slipped round under her nose, causing her to stop so
suddenly that Grif flew off, alighting on his own head with a
violence which would have killed any other boy. Sobered by his
downfall, he declined to mount again, but led his steed to repose in
a shed, while he rejoined his friends, who were waiting impatiently
to congratulate him on his latest and best prank.
The Committee went their rounds soon after, and, when the doors
were again opened, everyone hurried to see if their articles had
received a premium. A card lay on the butter cups, and Mrs. Grant
was full of pride because her butter always took a prize, and this
proved that Merry was walking in her mother’s steps, in this
direction at least. Another card swung from the blue quilt, for the
kindly judges knew who made it, and were glad to please the little
girl, though several others as curious but not so pretty hung near
by. The cats were admired, but, as they were not among the
animals usually exhibited, there was no prize awarded. Gus hoped
his hens would get one; hut somebody else outdid him, to the great
indignation of Laura and Lotty, who had fed the white biddies
faithfully for months. Jack was sure his rabbit was the biggest
there, and went eagerly to look for his premium. But neither card
nor Bun were to be seen, for the old rascal had escaped for the last
time, and was never seen again; which was a great comfort to Jack,
who was heartily tired of him.
Ralph’s bust was the best of all, for not only did it get a prize, and
was much admired, but a lady, who found Jill and Merry rejoicing
over it, was so pleased with the truth and grace of the little head,
that she asked about the artist, and whether he would do one of her
own child, who was so delicate she feared he might not live long.
Merry gladly told the story of her ambitious friend, and went to
find him, that he might secure the order. While she was gone, Jill
took up the tale, gratefully telling how kind he had been to her,
how patiently he worked and waited, and how much he longed to
go abroad. Fortunately the lady was rich and generous, as well as
fond of art, and being pleased with the bust, and interested in the