“Mebbe we could, Lois,” said Mrs. Daggett amiably. “I’ve always thought I’d like to know more about famous people: what they eat for breakfast, and how they do their back hair and—”
“Don’t be silly, Abby,” Miss Daggett bade her sharply. “There ain’t any such nonsense in Famous People! I wouldn’t be canvassing for it, if there was.” And she shifted her pointed nose to one side with a slight, genteel sniff.
“Git-ap, Dolly!” murmured Mrs. Daggett, gently slapping the reins.
Dolly responded by a single swift gesture of his tail which firmly lashed the hated reminder of bondage to his hind quarters. Then wickedly pretending that he was not aware of what had happened he strolled to the side of the road nearest the hay field.
“Now, if he ain’t gone and got his tail over the lines!” cried Mrs. Daggett indignantly. “He’s got more resistin’ strength in that tail of his’n—wonder if I can—”
She leaned over the dashboard and grasped the offending member with both hands.
“You hang onto the lines, Lois, and give ’em a good jerk the minute I loosen up his tail.”
The subsequent failure of this attempt deflected the malicious Dolly still further from the path of duty. A wheel cramped and lifted perilously.
Miss Daggett squealed shrilly:
“He’ll tip the buggy over—he’ll tip the buggy over! For pity’s sake, Abby!”