By the time Mother and the baby came out of Grandmother's gate the little boy was at the corner. When they reached the corner he had passed the big elm tree that grew by the sidewalk. When he rode up the little hill beyond the elm, trot, trot, trot, they almost caught up with him; but when they went down on the other side he was far ahead.
THE STICK HORSE.
Gallop, gallop, gallop—almost before the little boy knew it himself he was at home; and when Mother and the baby got there the stick horse was hitched to the red rose bush, and the little boy sat on the doorstep laughing.
"I got home first. I got home first. I can ride fast on my black horse," said the little boy.
