“Why, he’s asleep!” she said.
“Sound as a top; but we’ll wake him up, my little maid.” So the farmer picked up a long straw from under the seat, and drew it across Phil’s upper lip.
“Ow! get out,” cried the boy, rubbing his face violently.
Essie laughed, and the farmer tickled Phil under the nose again.
“Ow! ow!” cried Phil, kicking out with both his legs, and butting his head against the side of the wagon. “Hang the old fly.” Then starting up, he opened his eyes, and stared wildly at Essie and her father.
“Come, Phil,” said the farmer kindly, “we’re home; get down, and come in the house.”
All at once the boy remembered, and with something between an oh! and a groan, he followed his new master.
In they all went—and what a nice little room it was, to be sure! Great bunches of feathery asparagus filled the fireplace; a canary bird, in a pretty cage, hung in the open window, through which the sweet breaths of honeysuckles came floating; not a speck of dust could be found on chairs or table, and the rag carpet was as clean as brooms could make it. Over the mantelpiece was an engraving of Cain and Abel, which Essie did not like; and opposite, one of little Samuel praying, which she did. Through the door facing to that by which they had entered came a sound of frying, and an appetizing fragrance of ham.
Phil flopped sulkily down on the first chair; then he gaped as if the top of his head had got unhinged, and was falling off backwards; then he stretched out his arms till his shoulder-blades cracked, and then he grumbled out—“I am hungry.”
“What, already!” exclaimed the farmer. “Why, the girl at Dr. Gradus’s said you had eaten one orange, three apples, and a quarter of a pound of lollipops, beside your dinner.”