“Eh? What’s that? Buy you a pony!” cried his father, half teasing. “Why you couldn’t ride a pony.”
“Oh, yes I could!” said the little boy. “Anyhow I could drive him hitched to a pony cart.”
“But we haven’t a pony cart.”
“Well, couldn’t you get one? Oh, please get me a pony, Daddy!”
“Ah, um! Well, which one would you want, if you could have one?” asked Mr. Farley, half in fun.
George looked over the ponies who were cropping grass not far away. The boy’s eyes rested longest on Tinkle, for Tinkle was a pretty pony, with four white feet and a white star right in the middle of his head.
“This is the pony I want!” cried George, and, before his father could stop him the boy ran straight to Tinkle and put his arms around the pony’s neck.