"Do you know who invented the wheelbarrow, Tomty?" she asked as they went along.
"Yes miss," replied Tomty. "Hiram Deluce made this one, miss."
"I don't mean this one," said Brighteyes. "I mean the first one that ever was made. It was a great painter, one of the greatest painters that ever lived, only I can't remember his name. Uncle Jack told me about him."
"Yes Miss!" said Tomty. "More likely a car-painter, Miss. I don't know what a painter would want of a barrow, unless to paint it, and that's soon done."
A car-painter! Brighteyes thought that was very funny, and she thought Tomty was very clever.
But now they were in the barn-yard, and she straightway forgot about wheel-barrows and painters, for José, the little brown donkey, was loose, and was trying with might and main to open the further gate of the yard, a trick of which he was extremely fond, and in which he certainly excelled.
"Oh! Tomty," cried Brighteyes, "shut the gate, and let us catch José. Naughty donkey, how did you get out? Come here, good José! come here, poor fellow!" But José (that is a Spanish name, by the way, and is pronounced Hosay,) had no idea of going there.
JOSÉ OPENING THE GATE.
"I wont!" he said. "I wo-hon't! go away-hay!" and up went his heels, higher than ever. It must be very provoking to animals to have human beings pay absolutely no attention to their remarks. Really, it is so stupid sometimes. There was José, speaking quite distinctly for a donkey, and Brighteyes only clapped her hands to her ears and cried "Oh! what a dreadful bray!" and in the barn, meanwhile, Pollux, the off horse, was saying to John, over and over again, "I don't like this stall, John! please give me another. And do loosen this strap a little, for it makes my head ache." To which John replied, "So, boy! quiet now!" which must have been extremely aggravating.