“Pitcher of George Washington!” exclaimed Tim. “The boys will near ’bout take a holiday. You tell her to put on her red hood and a blue hair-ribbon, and she’ll be as purty as a posy to go a-visiting.”
“Never mind what she wears, Timothy,” said Aunty Rose sternly. “You see that she gets back here safely.”
“Surest thing you know, Miz Kennedy,” agreed the man.
Carolyn May—and, of course, Prince—were ready when Tim came back with the empty sled, or “jumper,” as he called it. He had thrown a number of sacks upon it, on which she might sit, and they started off briskly. The bells on the horses’ collars jingled a merry tune.
Prince bounded about the sled in wild delight, barking madly. Such an adventure as this was quite to his liking.
“I vow!” croaked Timothy, “I’ve often thought I’d like to be a dog—some men’s dog, I mean. They ain’t got nothin’ to trouble ’em—’nless it’s a few fleas. And maybe they ain’t such a heavy cross and burden. They give the dog good healthy exercise a-scratchin’ of ’em.
“Now, look at that Prince critter, will you? He’s all of a broad grin—happy as a clam at high water. He don’t hafter worry about rent, or clo’es, or how to meet the next payment on the pianner. He sure is in an easy state of mind.”
“Yes,” Carolyn May agreed, “I think Prince is a very cheerful dog. Why, he almost laughs sometimes!”
“I reckon he does,” agreed Tim. “Only, dumb critters don’t never really laff.”
“Oh, yes, they do!” cried Carolyn May, eager to give information when she could. “Anyhow, some animals do.”