Childlike every boy and girl but Dallas cried out.
"Dallas goes," she said. "He is the only one who was politely silent. My darlings—you must not run after invitations. Let them run after you." And so speaking she was just about to drop out of the procession when Cassowary said pleadingly, "Mother, let me drive Dallas. You'd have to handle the harness and you know you cut your hand this morning."
"Thank you, girlie," said her mother, "I believe I will resign in your favor. Show your cousin how to help you."
Cassowary, who was ahead with Drunkard, passed his lead to Champ and my young master and I joyfully followed her to the carriage-house, where she wheeled out a two-seated cart.
"I suppose you know nothing about harnessing," she said to Dallas.
"Oh! yes," he began, then he checked himself and said over again, "Oh! yes, you are right. I know nothing about attaching an animal to a carriage."
"Come to the harness room," she said, and there she gave young Dallas quite a nice talk about four and two-wheelers for passengers and also about the even more important waggons for carrying loads. Then she explained the difference between work harness and light harness.
Dallas had a good memory and when she gave him a brief examination she found he had forgotten nothing, but he stood staring at me.
"All very fine," he remarked. "I understand about the bridle, collar, traces, breeching, hip-strap and so on, but how do you get harness and cart together?"