"Oh! I'm not tired," said Arthur. "I'd like a ride ever so much. Will you take me?"
"No," said his father. "I meant for you to take a ride by yourself."
"But I can't drive," said little Arthur.
"I know that," his father said, with a smile, "but I think we can manage it. Here, Joseph!" he called out to the hired man, "hurry and bring Arthur's horse."
"Oh, papa!" cried Arthur, "I don't want my horse. I can't take a real ride on him. He's wooden, and I was tired of him long ago. I thought you meant for me to take a real ride," and the little fellow's eyes filled with tears.
"So I do, my son," said his father, "and here comes the horse on which you are to take it. Is that animal real enough for you, sir?"
Around the corner came Joseph, leading a plump little black pony, with a long tail and mane, and a saddle, and bridle, and stirrups.
Arthur was so astonished and delighted that at first he could not speak.
"Well, what do you think of him?" said his father.
"Is that my horse?" said Arthur.