“Does it?” cried Davie, quite pleased to find that the big man didn’t blame him for his failure to undo it.
“You better believe it does,” declared Mr. Brown, laying hold of the strap; “there, you set down on that box a spell.”
Davie, wanting dreadfully to ask, “Can’t I help some more?” did as he was bidden, and silently watched the farmer get Jingo out of the harness and into his halter.
“Don’t you want to lead him into th’ stall?” asked Mr. Brown, when that was all done, and turning suddenly.
“Oh, can I—can I?” cried Davie, springing from the box, his little hot face beaming with delight.
“There ain’t nothin’ to hinder you,” said the farmer, with a chuckle. “There now,” and he put the halter strap into David’s hand. “Come this way,” he was going to say, “Little boy,” but coughed and gave it up.
“You’re handy as you can be,” said Mr. Brown, when Jingo was munching his oats. “Now says I, let’s go down an’ see th’ pigs,” and he put out his big hand.
“Phronsie loves pigs,” began Davie. Then the color ran over his face—Mamsie had told them not to show that they wanted anything while on this visit. In his anxiety that Phronsie should see the pigs, he had forgotten that.
“You needn’t to worry about th’ little gal,” said the farmer composedly, “Miss Brown’ll look out for her.”
“Will she let her see the pigs?” asked Davie, turning an anxious face up to the keen eyes under their shaggy brows.