And, as it turned out, Dotty really did not deserve to be punished for wrong stories. She and Prudy had each assisted in breaking the teapot; one had knocked it off the bureau, and the other had stepped on it. But Dotty, who gloried in "a fuss," had begged to be the one to tell Susy the startling news. She wished to see her eyes flash, and hear her expressions of surprise. She knew that, however angry Susy might be, there was one magical sentence which would always her to terms: "Dotty'll go out doors, 'out her hat, get cold, have the coop, and die!"
At the bare mention of such a fearful thing, Susy's anger was sure to cool at once. This time Dotty varied her method a little.
"See," said she, looking out of the window; "the boys has came."
Of course that was the last of Susy's thoughts about the teapot. She rushed out of doors bareheaded, followed by Dotty. Eddy Johnson was just hitching Wings to a post near the gate.
"Have they shoed him?" said Susy.
"Shoed him? I should think they had; all of that," replied Eddy, indignantly.
"Booted him, more like," muttered Charley Piper, in the same tone.
"Why, what do you mean, boys?" said Susy, patting the pony, and gazing tenderly into his eyes.
"O, we don't mean anything, as I know of. You must run into the house and ask your mother to come out here," said Eddy, mysteriously.
"Why, it's my own pony, that my own father gave me, and if there's anything the matter with it I should think you might tell," cried Susy, her voice shaking with a vague dread of some terrible mishap.