"Papa," said he, "can't I have the pony taken?" "She wont stand still long enough," answered Mr. Wood, sealing up his letter. "But, papa, can't the man try?" pleaded Jim. Mr. Wood thought for a minute. Then said: "Yes. He may try." Jim galloped across the front yard in a second. "Well?" said the curly-haired man, raising his eyebrows. "Papa doesn't want the house taken," said Jim, with some dignity. "But can you take my pony over there in the orchard?" The man looked at Baby, who was calmly crunching harvest apples under the trees. "Purty little beast," he said, getting out of his wagon and leading his horse up to the fence. "Can you take her?" asked Jim again, anxiously. "Course I kin," answered Mr. Leatherbee. He then tied his horse to the fence and lifted his apparatus out of the wagon, and arranged it in the orchard. The pony immediately kicked up her heels and trotted off to a far-away corner. Mr. Wood came out of the house and talked to the photographer, while Jim, after chasing around for some time trying to catch the pony, went to the stable and put a quart of oats in a measure. As soon as Baby spied that round, yellow box under Jim's arm, she trotted up to him with a gentle neigh. He caught her by the fore-top and led her to where Mr. Leatherbee was standing. "Jest put her there," said he, pointing to a place under a big tree. Jim led her to the place and held her while Mr. Leatherbee made all his arrangements. "Now we're ready," said he. Baby looked pleased at this announcement, but waved her tail wildly. Mr. Wood smiled. "Tell Baby to keep perfectly quiet," said he to Jim, "and ask her to lower her chin a little, cast a pleasant expression around her eyes, and breathe gently." [Illustration: "THE PONY STOOD QUIETLY EATING."] Mr. Leatherbee laughed at this. So did Jim; for it was exactly what the photographer always told him when he had his picture taken. The pony thought this all very pleasant, but she wanted the oats, and, consequently, was trying to thrust her nose through Jim's back in her efforts to get at the measure. The photographer looked despairing. "Here, I'll fix it," said Mr. Wood, stepping up to the pony. "No, Jim, stand back; Mr. Leatherbee, are you ready?" "Yes," answered Mr. Leatherbee, with one hand on the velvet that covered his camera. Mr. Wood poured the oats on the ground and let go of the pony's head. For a while Baby grabbed the oats up in great haste, but finally she stood with her nose to the ground quietly eating. Mr. Leatherbee drew away the velvet from the camera, and looked at his watch for some breathless minutes. Then he slipped the velvet on again, and said: "That's all right." Jim drew a long sigh. "Will it be good, do you think?" he asked, anxiously.