At last Neddy's father complained to Farmer Jones of the way in which his old horse was annoying the children, who had to pass through the field, as they went to school, or else be compelled to go a long distance out of their way. The farmer inquired the cause of Ned's strange conduct, and learned that the little boy cut him across the shoulders with a willow switch.
"Ho! ho!" said he, "that's the trouble, is it? Ned won't bear a stroke from any one. But I will make up the matter between him and the children. So let them stop here on their way from school this evening."
The children stopped accordingly. Ned was standing in the barn-yard, the very picture of demure innocence. But when he saw little Neddy and his sister, he pricked up his ears, shook his head, and neighed.
"Come, come, old boy!" said the farmer, "we've had enough of that. You must learn to forgive and forget. The little fellow was only playing with you."
Ned appeared to understand his master, for he looked a little ashamed of himself, and let his pointed ears fall back again to their old places.
"Now, my little fellows," said Farmer Jones, "take up a handful of that sweet new hay, and call him to the bars."
"I'm afraid," returned Neddy. "He'll bite me."
"Not he. Why the old horse wouldn't harm a hair of your head. He was only trying to frighten you as a punishment for the stroke you gave him. Come. Now's your time to make friends."
Neddy, thus encouraged, gathered a handful of the sweet new hay that was scattered around, and going up to the fence, held it out and called to the horse—
"Here! Ned, Ned, Ned!"