“I’m not afraid of her,” said Phil stoutly, as, safe behind the shelter of Grandfather’s boots and bowling swiftly along the road, he cast a defiant look at the surly bossy securely fastened by a rope to a stout stake in the ground. “Maybe I’ll take you there sometime. I won’t let her hurt you.”
But the cow was left behind them, and Susan called Phil to look at the poultry farm, with its ducks and geese, its hens and chickens, cackling cheerfully and running about in amiable confusion.
Now they were nearing the town of Green Valley, and down the hill and over the bridge they rumbled to stop before the imposing stone Court-House, with its parking-space for automobiles and its row of hitching-posts, to one of which was tied little brown Molly.
Susan danced impatiently up and down as Grandfather descended heavily to the sidewalk.
“Oh, Grandfather,” said she, catching hold of his hand, “I want to take Philly to Madame Bonnet’s. May I? Please say ‘yes.’”
“To be sure,” answered Grandfather, feeling in his pocket as he spoke. “It will be a good place for you to wait. Here’s ten cents apiece. Spend it carefully, and be sure you don’t get lost on the way.”
Susan laughed as she caught Phil by the arm and dragged him off. Lost on the way to Madame Bonnet’s! when every one in the world knew it was just across the street from the Court-House.
Once safely over the crossing Susan stopped and pointed:
“Look, Phil,” said she. “It’s the nicest place you ever knew. Here it is. Here’s Madame Bonnet’s shop.”