"Well, I don't know," said Ruth.
"It will be a long march for him," said Neale, doubtfully. "He'll get left behind. The horses are fast."
"Well, you are the one to see that he isn't left behind, Neale O'Neil," asserted Ruth.
"All right," said the boy, meekly, but winking at Uncle Rufus and Mrs. MacCall. Neale had wanted the old dog to go all the time, and his remark had turned the scale in Tom Jonah's favor.
"Come, boy! you can go, too," Ruth announced as the horses started.
Tom Jonah uttered a joyful bark, circled the carriage and pair two or three times in the exuberance of his delight, and then settled down to a steady pace under the rear axle. Neale saw to it that the lively ponies did not travel too fast for the old dog.
The carriage rattled across Main Street and out High Street. The town was soon left behind, Neale following the automobile road along which ran the interurban electric tracks to Fleeting and beyond.
"Oh, yes!" said Agnes, gloomily. "I know this is the way to Fleeting, Neale O'Neil. Wish I'd never been there."
"Has Mr. Marks ever said anything further to you girls about Bob Buckham's strawberries?" asked her boy friend.
"No. But you see, we haven't played any more outside games, either. And I know they'll give The Carnation Countess this winter and we won't any of us be allowed to play in it."