“But I don’t see,” Leigh went on, “what Ned and the cord’s got to do with it.”
“Bless you, sir,” said Janie, “he’s going to make hisself into a pony to draw the p’ram, so as Comfort need do nothing but walk behind pushing with one hand and a-holding of the book with the other, and no need to look out where they’re going.”
“Oh, I see,” said Leigh slowly. He could not help admiring the idea. Then, as Ned at that moment ran out of the cottage, the three little visitors stood in a row watching with the greatest interest while Ned harnessed himself to the front of the wicker carriage. It was a little difficult to manage, but luckily the Perry family were very good-natured, and the two babies in the perambulator only laughed when they got jogged about. And at last, with Leigh’s help, the two-legged pony was ready for the start.
Off they set, Comfort holding on behind. She was so interested in it all, by this time that her book was given to one of the babies to hold.
This was lucky, as the first start was rather a queer one. Ned was not tied in quite evenly, so when he set off at a trot the perambulator ran to one side, as if a crab instead of a boy were drawing it. And but for Comfort behind, no doubt, in another minute it would have turned over.
“Stop, Ned, stop!” shouted his sisters, Leigh and Artie and Mary joining in, and the babies too.
Then they all burst out laughing; it did seem so funny, and it took a minute or two before they could set to work to put things right. When Ned’s harness was made quite even, he set off again more slowly. This time it was a great success, or it seemed so anyway, though perhaps it was as much thanks to Comfort’s pushing behind as to Ned’s pulling in front.
Mary and her brothers stood watching the little party as they made their way along the smooth path leading to the wood.
“It’s a good thing,” said Leigh, “they’re not going the smithy way, for if they went down hill, I believe the carriage would tumble over; it’s such a shaky old thing.”
“When our baby gets a perambulator it’ll not be like that ugly old thing, will it?” said Artie. “It will be a reg’lar nice one.”