"Don't go, my Prince," he said anxiously. "I really am pining for your acquaintance, but you have never noticed me since that day on Deer Trail when your darling young master looked so sweet. What eyes! What a manner—quite a young prince!"
I began to laugh. "Oh! Lammie-noo, what a goose was spoiled in you, but really I'm quite flattered that you wish to make my acquaintance. Have I snubbed you?"
"Very much," bleated Lammie touchingly, "and you know you are the leader in animal society on this farm."
"Am I?" I exclaimed. "I didn't know it."
"Quite easily Princeps," he said in a languishing way.
"Princeps! What's that?" I asked.
"I don't know, sir. It's foreign. I heard Mr. Devering use it—'Silly Princeps,' he said. I would guess that it is some elegance."
I tossed my head, then I said, "Lammie-noo, you remind me of young Pony Pale-Face I knew in years gone by. He used to stand leaning against walls and looking up at the sky. We never could make out whether he was a fool pony or a wise one—Now please tell me about Barklo."
"Well! Barklo's a nice kind dog, and he's lent to a nice kind widow woman."
"Lent," I repeated. "What do you mean?"