“Will you saddle my pony for me? You can, can’t you?”
“I guess I can,” answered Johnson. He spoke laconically.
“Want to ride?” he said. “Who’s a-goin’ with yer?”
“No one, I am going alone.”
Johnson made no remark. He looked at the basket of apples.
“I say,” he cried, “them’s good, I like apples.”
“You shall have two, Johnson; oh, and I have a penny in my pocket as well. Now please saddle the pony very fast, for I want to be off.”
Johnson did not see anything remarkable in Sibyl’s intended ride. He knew nothing about little Missy. As far as his knowledge went it was quite the habit for little ladies to ride by themselves. Of course he would get the pony ready for her, so he lifted down the pretty new side-saddle from its place on the wall, and arranged it on the forest pony’s back. The pony turned his large gentle eyes, and looked from Johnson to the child.
“It don’t matter about putting on my habit,” said Sibyl. “It will take such a lot of time, I can go just as I am, can’t I, Johnson?”