Jim galloped across the front yard in a second.
"Well?" said the curly-haired man, raising his eyebrows.
"Papa doesn't want the house taken," said Jim, with some dignity. "But can you take my pony over there in the orchard?"
The man looked at Baby, who was calmly crunching harvest apples under the trees.
"Purty little beast," he said, getting out of his wagon and leading his horse up to the fence.
"Can you take her?" asked Jim again, anxiously.
"Course I kin," answered Mr. Leatherbee. He then tied his horse to the fence and lifted his apparatus out of the wagon, and arranged it in the orchard. The pony immediately kicked up her heels and trotted off to a far-away corner. Mr. Wood came out of the house and talked to the photographer, while Jim, after chasing around for some time trying to catch the pony, went to the stable and put a quart of oats in a measure. As soon as Baby spied that round, yellow box under Jim's arm, she trotted up to him with a gentle neigh. He caught her by the fore-top and led her to where Mr. Leatherbee was standing.
"Jest put her there," said he, pointing to a place under a big tree. Jim led her to the place and held her while Mr. Leatherbee made all his arrangements.
"Now we're ready," said he.
Baby looked pleased at this announcement, but waved her tail wildly.