“No,” said Phonny, “I am very sure that I shall not leave the doors open.”
“And then,” continued Wallace, “after a time you will get a little tired of your squirrel, and will forget to feed him, and so your mother or somebody in the house, must have the care of reminding you of it.”
“Oh, no,” said Phonny, “I should not forget to feed him, I am sure.”
“Did not you forget to feed your hens?” asked Wallace.
“Why—yes,” said Phonny, hesitatingly, “but that is a different thing.”
“Then, besides,” said Wallace, “you will have to go and beg some money of your mother to buy the squirrel with. For I suppose you have not saved any of your own, from your allowance. It is very seldom that boys of your age have self-control enough to lay up any money.”
As Wallace said these words Phonny, who had been riding along, with the bridle and his little riding stick both in his right hand, now shifted them into his left, and then putting his right hand into his left vest pocket, he drew out a little wallet. He then extended his hand with the wallet in it to Wallace saying,
“Look in there.”