"I can call you and the dog if I see any one coming, and that will do just as well," said the old woman.
"So it will," replied little Joan, and off she ran to the cornfield, where, for that matter, So-so had run before her, and was bounding and barking and springing among the wheat stalks.
They did not catch the bird, though they stayed longer than they had intended, and though So-so seemed to know more about hunting than was supposed.
"I dare say mother has come home," said little Joan, as they went back up the field-path. "I hope she won't think we ought to have stayed in the house."
"It was taken care of," said So-so, "and that must do just as well."
When they reached the house, the widow had not come home.
But the old woman had gone, and she had taken the quilted petticoat and the duffle cloak, and the plum-cake from the top shelf away with her; and no more was ever heard of any of the lot.
"For the future, my child," said the widow, "I hope you will always do just as you are told, whatever So-so may say."
"I will, Mother," said little Joan (And she did.) But the house-dog sat and blinked. He dared not speak, he was in disgrace.
I do not feel quite sure about So-so. Wild dogs often amend their ways far on this side of the gallows, and the faithful sometimes fall; but when any one begins by being only So-so, he is very apt to be So-so to the end. So-sos so seldom change.