“It’s Chico’s party. He did a fine thing the other day and the boys have decorated him for it. It has been such fun. Did you see him shake hands with Mr. Travis?”
“We saw some sort of goings on but we couldn’t make out what it was all about,” her grandfather told her. “We couldn’t find any one at home at Clover’s and wandered around a while till we saw something was going on down in the meadow, so we watched proceedings. How are you, Pickings?”
“Fine as a fiddle.”
Her grandfather held her off and looked her up and down. “You’ve grown; I declare you’ve grown. You don’t look much fatter, but I vow you have pink cheeks. July weather and you with pink cheeks; that’s a new state of things. That will be news for your grandmother.”
“How is Gradda?”
“Very well. She gets up an alarm about you once in a while, but it doesn’t last long. She is looking forward to seeing you next week. Ready to go?”
Joanne looked a little rueful. “I want to see Gradda, of course,” she said, “but I don’t want to leave here. We have had such good times; you don’t know what fun we have had. The girls are so nice and Miss Chesney and Miss Dodge are dears.”
“But what’s all this about Chico? What did he do to distinguish himself?” asked Mr. Pattison.
“Well,” said Joanne, “there was a fire in the woods, and the quickest way to get help was to let the boys know, so Chico went down a very steep cliff and the boys got the word. Chico was wonderful. Sometimes he had to go on his haunches and fairly slide, but he never balked.”
The two men exchanged glances. “Who was riding him?” asked Dr. Selden. “I don’t suppose he was like Balaam’s ass and could speak for himself.”