That roused him for a moment; and he lifted his head from a barrel long enough to say,—
“Why, I meant to told you, Dorothy came out ever so long ago and got the eggs.”
“Did she? Well, what are you hunting for, then? How queer you do act!” said Hop-clover, as Pollio danced along to the cow’s stall, and peeped in at nothing.
But the boy did not hear her; he was thinking:—
“A new carriage too! We are going to ride home in it to-morrow. Yes, that’s the carriage we are going to ride home in. Got to be mended. What’ll Mr. Littlefield think?”
Here Pollio danced along on thistles to the colt’s crib.
“There’s that colt. Perhaps Mr. Littlefield will think the colt got in where the carriage is, and chewed the thill.—Could he chew the thill?
“No: Mr. Littlefield would know better than that. Well, p’rhaps the dog broke it.—Could the dog break it?”
Pollio reflected on that for a while. Towzer was not as heavy as Beppo. No, Towzer couldn’t break a thill: Mr. Littlefield would know better than that.
“Well, p’rhaps the hens roosted on the thill, and broke it.”