“It’s like Sothern playing a part of Georgie Cohan’s,” commented Patricia, sweetly. “Is he apt to be there all day?”
“It looks so,” said Aurora, struggling between anxiety and laughter. “We really ought to do something.”
But Patricia had settled herself comfortably on the top rail of the fence. Things were going very much to her liking.
“What?” she asked.
“Tell somebody. There’s a wagon coming this way now.”
“But how about the Cross-Country Cup?” looking at her watch. “There’s only an hour and a half to finish in.”
“But we can’t leave him up there,” said Steve, more seriously. “That bull will be there until—until the cows come home.”
“Jimmy is perfectly safe,” said Patricia, “unless he goes to sleep and falls out; and he can’t starve unless he throws all the apples at the bull.”
“Patty, you’re heartless,” said Aurora, but she laughed when she said it.
The farmer who came along in the wagon took in the situation at a glance and laughing more loudly than any of them, consented at last to drive to the barnyard and tell the farmer.