“Mother, who is Farmer Joel?” asked Rose, in a whisper.
“He has a farm about forty miles from here,” answered Mrs. Bunker. “Your father and I were there some years ago. Farmer Joel has orchards, bees, flowers, chickens, cows, and horses.”
“Oh, what a lovely place that would be to go to for the rest of the summer!” exclaimed Rose.
“Could we go there, Mother?” begged Vi.
“I—now—I know a riddle about a horse,” spoke up Laddie. “When is a boy a little horse?”
“We haven’t time for riddles now, dear,” said his mother. “I must tell this man where to leave the flowers that Farmer Joel was so kind as to send us.”
“Well, then I’ll tell you when a boy is a little horse,” went on Laddie. “It’s when he has a cold.”
“Pooh! Being hoarse when you have a cold isn’t being a horse on a farm,” declared Rose.
“It’s good enough for a riddle,” replied Laddie. “Oh, I want a ride!” he cried, as he saw the driver climbing up on his seat after Mrs. Bunker had pointed out her house.
“No, Laddie! Keep off the truck,” his mother warned him.