Johnny’s eyes were growing rounder and rounder, and his little hot hand clutched his father’s finger with almost feverish eagerness, as he answered stoutly that he’d like to ride all by his own self.
“Well done!” cried Reed admiringly. “You wouldn’t think the spirit of en,” he remarked to the red-faced proprietress of the merry-go-round as he paid the fare. “Ye’d think a little chap same as this ’ud be afeared to go alone. But no, not he. ‘I’d like to ride all by my own self,’ says he, as cool as a cucumber—an’ him but just turned four years old.”
It was pleasant to see the pair circling to the sound of the diabolical music: the father perspiring with terror on the child’s account, with one great hand hovering over him, ready to support him at the smallest sign of wavering, his own huge form ridiculously out of proportion to his wooden steed, his long legs trailing; the son, very red in the face, clutching the wooden neck of his horse with strong, resolute little hands, his eyes bright with rapture, his smile growing broader and broader until at length he was forced to chuckle aloud for glee.
Well, they had two rides on the roundabout, and then they went on the switchback, and then they went in a swing, and then Reed bought a large flabby cake and a couple of very green apples, and while Johnny was munching these dainties they suddenly knocked up against an acquaintance whom his father had not seen for years. There was much greeting and hand-shaking and questioning—the two deep voices booming over the child’s head, which was now beginning to swim a little, partly as a result of much agitation, and partly, perhaps, because those very green apples began to make him feel rather uncomfortable.
He hung more and more heavily on his father’s hand, and at last, his short legs giving way beneath him, he fairly dropped on the ground.
“Gettin’ tired, eh?” said Reed, glancing down at him. “Come, we’ll look for Maggie and Rosie, and get ’em to take ’ee somewhere where ye can sit down and rest for a bit.”
Lifting him up, he threaded his way through the crowd, followed by his new acquaintance. Soon they came upon the two girls, who, provided with an admirer apiece, were gleefully “shying” at cocoanuts.
They readily agreed to take charge of Johnny, and their father, turning to Jim Fry, informed him that he intended to return home on foot, as he had met an old friend, and when they had finished with the Fair they would probably go to the village for a glass or two.
“Right, sir, right,” returned Jim amiably. “I’ll take care of the two young ladies, without Tom Davis there likes to get up at the back along of Rosie to keep the balance even.”
And here Jim grinned and winked knowingly.