"Get up, you Dandy!" said the boy.
The saucy little pony stopped to prance for just a minute to show how good he felt, and then away he darted. The road was smooth, the little cart was supplied with good springs and the grass kept off the jar still more, so that the ride was a very easy one. Just at the outskirts of the village the boy sprang down again and opened a wide gate. Billy raised up his head a little to look after this splendid fellow. He wore a gray sweater, a pair of overalls, and a straw hat, and he was in his bare feet. His nose tilted up a little at the end and his face was all covered with freckles, but he was tall and straight, his yellow hair curled from under his hat and his blue eyes were bright and kind, and Billy thought he had never seen any human being in this world so fine and handsome. As soon as the gate was opened, the busy little pony darted through it and, without a word from the boy, stopped until his driver could close the gate and take his place again. Two other dogs came running down to meet them.
"Hello, Curly! Hello, Spot!" called the boy, and he patted each of the dogs on the head before he climbed back up on his seat and took the reins.
Back a little way from the road sat a small, white house with green vines and bright red flowers clambering all over the wide front porch. The ground in front of the house was glowing with flower beds; everything looked neat and clean, and as if happy, contented people lived there. The road from the gate led right past this house, and back by the kitchen the boy stopped with a "Whoa!" A pleasant looking woman came out of the kitchen door, and in her hands she held up a cooky.
"Just out of the oven, Bobby boy," she said, and came up to the wagon to hand it to him. He reached down and patted her cheek and with the same hand took the hot cooky.
"Look in the wagon, mother," he said smiling.
"Well, Bob Sanders!" she cried. "Another animal! I don't know what your father will say."
"Oh, but look, mother!" said the boy, turning round to show her. "I picked him up at the side of the road and see, he has broken a leg."
"Oh, the poor goat!" said Mrs. Sanders, her voice as full of sympathy as Bobby's own. Billy liked her voice too. The sound of it seemed to do him good in the same way that Bobby's voice had. "I'll go right in and get him some milk," she added.
"No, I'd rather you wouldn't, mother," said Bobby. "I'll give him a drink of water out at the barn, but I don't want him to eat anything just now. I have got to set that leg and it's likely to be very painful for him. If he ate anything it might make him very sick. After it is all through, I'll make him a little mash and feed it to him."