“I know what I will do,” he said, starting for his barn. “I’ll paint the seat of my rocking-chair; he loves to sit in that.”
Pretty soon Mr. Fox had his rocking-chair painted a nice shiny black, and then he sat down to watch for Tim Coon, who always passed by about that time. He did not have to wait long before Tim came along, wearing the plaid trousers. “Come in, Tim, and have a smoke,” said Mr. Fox, in his most polite manner.
Mr. Fox went to the closet to get a pipe for Tim, and, just as he expected, down sat Tim Coon in the rocking-chair right on the wet paint.
“Oh dear, oh dear, how sorry I am!” said Mr. Fox, hurrying to Tim.
“Get up quick, Tim! I just painted that chair. I hope you have not got it on your plaid trousers.”
Mr. Fox’s eyes twinkled as he got behind poor Tim to look at the seat of his trousers, but that, of course, Tim Coon did not see, and when Mr. Fox told him there was a big black spot, but that he felt sure he could tell him just how to get it out, Tim thought he was a very kind fellow.
“Don’t you bother at all, Tim. I read the other day just how to wash woolen garments. It said it was sure and safe, so I will help you, for I really feel to blame; I ought to have remembered that rocker was freshly painted.
“First, I must get you some white soap, and as I have none in the house I shall have to run over to Mr. Man’s and get some; he has everything in his house.”
Tim Coon thought Mr. Fox was the very kindest fellow he knew, and he ran right home to take off the trousers and wait for Mr. Fox to return.
“Oh, you might put on a kettle of water,” called Mr. Fox as Tim was hurrying away, “and have it boiling; it must boil hard.”