"Where's the 'houn' dog,' Frale?" She gazed fearfully about.
"He's gone now. He won't bite—not you, he won't."
"Oh, Frale! I wish it was a circus."
"Yas," drawled the young man, with a sullen smile curling his lips, "may be hit be a sort of a circus. Kin ye remember what I tol' you to tell yer paw?"
"You—you seen a houn' dog on—on a cent—how could he be on a cent?"
"Say, 'Frale seen a houn' dog on his scent, an' he's gone home to git shet of him.'"
"Frale seen a houn' dog on—on a—a cent, an'—an'—an' he's gone home to—to get shet of him. What's 'get shet of him,' Frale?"
"Nevah mind, honey; yer paw'll know. Run in an' tell him 'fore you forgit hit. Good-by."
She danced gayly off toward the house, but turned to call back at him, as he stood watching her. "Are you going to hit the 'houn'' dog with the pretty ball, Frale?"