Mrs. Meadows had been weighing the problem all evening. She hadn’t been too favorably impressed by Ticktock, but she knew with a mother’s instinct how precious the rawboned pony was to her son. Now that her husband was in a slightly more softened mood she decided to strike.
“Carl, come in the kitchen a few minutes,” she said.
As Jim waited anxiously, he could hear low voices coming from the kitchen. He knew his parents as well as they knew him and suspected that his mother was coming to his rescue. When his parents returned to the living room, Mrs. Meadows was looking determined and a trifle triumphant, while her husband was embarrassedly trying to look indulgent. Jim sat up expectantly.
“Your mother and I have talked over this matter,” announced Mr. Meadows. “We’ve decided to arrive at a compromise with you. You can keep the horse this summer providing he isn’t too mean and causes no trouble. But this fall he goes. I will not feed him through the winter.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Jim and dashed out of the house.
When you are not quite thirteen a summer is a lifetime. The fall seemed a million years away—a tiny cloud away over on the horizon. Why school hadn’t even ended for the summer as yet. Jim went up to where Ticktock stood, still tied to the orchard fence. He stroked the mustang’s head and told him the good news.
“It’s all set, Ticktock. You can stay. We’ve got the whole summer together. You’re going to get fat and really like it here. Now don’t mind if Dad doesn’t seem to like you. He’s really an awful nice Dad. It’s just that grown-ups don’t understand a lot of things. You sorta have to make allowances for them. We’ll show everybody what a good horse you are. Only if we’re going to make a good impression you can’t go around biting people.”
The mustang took the good news very calmly.
“Come on, old boy; I’ll show you your new stall. It might rain tonight and we don’t want you to catch cold.”