"We ought to be going on to Rockford," said Betty, as they strolled toward the pleasant farm house. "I don't see how we can get there now—"
"You leave that to me!" said the farmer, quickly. "I owe you something on account of the way Nero behaved. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" he charged.
The dog crouched, whined and thumped the earth with a contrite tail. He did not need the restraining hand of the hired man now.
"Make friends," ordered the farmer. The dog approached the girls.
"Oh—don't!" begged Amy.
"He wouldn't hurt a fly," bragged the farmer. "I can't account for his meanness."
"It was them burrs," affirmed the hired man.
"Mebby so. Wa'al, young ladies, come in and make yourselves t' hum! Behave, Nero!" for now the dog was getting too friendly, leaping up and trying to solicit caresses from the girls. "That's th' way with him, one minute he's up to some mischief, an' th' next he's beggin' your, pardon. I hope you're not hurt, miss," and he looked anxiously at Amy.
"No, not at all," she assured him, with a smile that was brave and winning. "I was only frightened, that's all."
"I'm glad of that. I'll have t' tie that dog up, I guess," and he threw a little clod of earth at the now cringing animal, not hitting him, however.