Later in the evening Tommy’s Ladies bought Dobbin. Mrs. Tregennis said that no fisher-child in Draeth had ever before possessed such a toy. It was dapple-grey and very strong; it moved on wheels and was high enough from the ground for a boy of five to sit astride, slip his feet into the stirrups, and so prepare to set out on great adventures.
Tommy was downstairs in his night-shirt at five o’clock the next morning. He sat on Dobbin’s back, kissed his carmine nostrils, poked his glassy eyes, and wished to waken up the Prynne household to show Jimmy Prynne his treasure and assert to him emphatically that Dobbin was his, Tommy’s, and his alone.
From this course, however, his mother dissuaded him. She told him that as yet the horse did not belong to him; until it had been given to him, he was certainly not justified in calling it his own.
“Perhaps after all,” Mrs. Tregennis demurred, “it may be for some other little boy in Draeth.”
“No, Mammy, no; the ladies said it was to be for me if I slept tight. They said so, Mammy, they said it was mine.”
To make quite sure of ownership, however, Tommy hurried up the two flights of stairs and with both clenched fists hammered on the bedroom door. “My ladies, my ladies; is the Dobbin for me?”
He returned to the kitchen triumphant, and convicted Mammy of lack of faith.
When breakfast was over Tommy led Dobbin proudly up and down the alley by the real leather reins. Three—then four—five—six—seven children followed the horse and his master.
WHEN BREAKFAST WAS OVER, TOMMY LED DOBBIN PROUDLY UP AND DOWN THE ALLEY.