“‘What more?’
“‘The saddle says, your honor, that if you will sleep in the manger where your two finest horses feed, you will receive a visit from the coachman’s nephew and his traveling companion.’
“The coachman implored his master’s mercy, and told all. Of course, the Mayor was very much astonished. He turned his unfaithful servants over to an officer, and that night had a watch set around his house and stable, and caught the thieves and their companions.”
“But the saddle didn’t talk,” said Sweetest Susan. “So the man didn’t tell what was true.” She made this remark with so much dignity that Mrs. Meadows laughed.
But Buster John was quite impatient.
“This isn’t a girl’s story,” he exclaimed.
“Oh, yes,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “It is for girls as well as boys. Sometimes people tell stories just to pass the time away, and if the stories have little fibs in ’em, that don’t do anybody any harm, they just keep them in there. If they didn’t, the story wouldn’t be true.”
“Is that the end of the story of the Talking-Saddle?” asked Buster John.
“No! Oh, no!” Mr. Thimblefinger answered. “I was just going to tell you the rest.”
But before he could go on with it, the noise of laughter was heard at the door, and then there came running in a queer-looking girl and a very queer-looking boy.