"Don't do that, child," said Grandpapa, hastily. "Sit perfectly still,
and on no account turn around or move in the saddle."
"I won't, Grandpapa," she promised, obediently, and presently she began
again, "I want to know his name, Grandpapa, so that I can tell my pony
when I get home."
"Oh, well, we'll find out," said Grandpapa. "Here you, can't you tell
the name of that donkey?" he cried to the guide holding Phronsie's
bridle. "Oh, I forgot, he doesn't understand English," and he tried it
in French.
But this was not much better, for old Mr. King, preferring to use none
but the best of French when he employed any, was only succeeding in
mystifying the poor man so that he couldn't find his tongue at all, but
stared like a clod till the old gentleman's patience was exhausted.
At last Jasper, hearing what the trouble was, shouted out something
from his position in the rear, that carried the meaning along with it,
and Phronsie the next minute was delighted to hear "Boolah," as the
guide turned and smiled and showed all his teeth at her, his pleasure
was so great at discovering that he could really understand.
"Why, that's the name of my donkey," said Polly, patting the beast's
rough neck. "He told me so when he helped me to mount."
"So it is mine," announced Jasper, bursting into a laugh. "I guess they
only have one name for the whole lot."
"Well, don't let us tell Phronsie so," said Polly, "and I shall call
mine 'Greybeard' because he's got such a funny old stiff beard and it
is grey.
Pages:
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281