“I promised him he should ride on the donkey,” said Phronsie. “I had to, for his mother and Joanna have all the unpacking to do. And he must, Dick.”
“Hand him over to me, then,” said Dick. “I’ll give him a donkey-treat, Phronsie.”
“Oh, thank you, Dick; and then I can help Mrs. Fargo,” turning back to the door.
“See, here,” cried Dick; “I’m doing this to help you out of it. Now, you’ve got to go to drive with me afterward, Phronsie.” He stopped with his foot on the upper step, and looked at her. “Grandpapa said I might try the new pair next time I came out. Will you?”
“We can take Johnny,” said Phronsie, pausing a bit. “Yes, Dick, I’ll go.”
“Bother him for a nuisance!” growled Dick.
But as this was all that he could get from Phronsie, he hurried off, and overtook Johnny trying to get on by himself to the donkey’s back, where he peacefully browsed in the paddock.
“Hold on there!” roared Dick at him, as only a college boy can roar. But Johnny was in no mind to hold on to anything but the donkey. This he did so effectually, sticking his toes into the sides of the animal, that the donkey at last sent out a hind foot. Away went Johnny, half across the field, it seemed to Dick, hurrying up; and then he lay still as a stone.
“Johnny! open your eyes,” cried Dick.