"I've run behind
your little buggy and you kept snapping the miles off as if it was the
easiest thing you did."
"_You'd_ grumble yourself if you were cheated of a taste of oats that
you were expecting," said Twinkleheels.
"I never eat oats," Spot retorted.
"Then you don't know what's good," Twinkleheels declared. "After getting
your mouth all made up for oats, it's pretty disappointing to chew on
nothing more appetizing than an iron bit."
Old dog Spot snickered.
Twinkleheels stamped one of his tiny feet upon the barn floor.
"It will never happen again!" he cried.
Old Spot gave him a sharp look.
"I hope," he said, "you don't intend to hurt Johnnie Green. I hope you
aren't planning to run away with him."
"No!" Twinkleheels assured him. "I'm too well trained to run away,
though I must say Johnnie Green deserves a spill. But of course I
wouldn't do such a thing as to tip the buggy over. What I have in mind
is something quite different. It's harmless." And that was all he would
say.
He took Johnnie Green to the ball game. And he brought him home again.
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