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"I want to have it true," said Madeline, "and interesting, too." "But sometimes," replied Beechnut, "interesting things don't happen, and in such cases, if we should only relate what actually does happen, the story would be likely to be dull." "I think you had better embellish the story a little," said Phonny "just a little, you know." "I don't think I can do that very well," replied Beechnut.
By JACOB ABBOTT One day Beechnut, who had been ill, was taken by Phonny and Madeline for a drive. When Phonny and Madeline found themselves riding quietly along in the wagon in Beechnut's company, the first thought which occurred to them, after the interest and excitement awakened by the setting out had passed in some measure away, was that they would ask him to tell them a story.
When the party had thus fairly set out, and Phonny and Malleville had in some measure finished uttering the multitude of exclamations of delight with which they usually commenced a ride, they began to wish that Beechnut would tell them a story. Now Beechnut was a boy of boundless fertility of imagination, and he was almost always ready to tell a story.
Little Albert was at this time about three years old, and Bella was seven. Phonny, while Mary Erskine was mending his clothes, asked where the children were. Mary Erskine said that they had gone out into the fields with Thomas, to make hay. So Phonny and Malleville, after getting proper directions in respect to the way that they were to go, set off in pursuit of them.
He then fastened him behind the wagon, and putting Jemmy's two bags in, he turned round and went back to carry Jemmy home, leaving Malleville and Phonny to walk the rest of the way to Mary Erskine's. Besides their ride, they lost the remainder of the story of Sligo, if that can be said to be lost which never existed.
He seemed to know precisely how much resistance was necessary to avoid the recapture with which he was threatened. "Whoa Jack! whoa!" said Phonny, advancing again. The horse, however, moved on, shaking his head as before. He seemed to be no more disposed to recognize the name of Jack than Dobbin. "Jemmy," said Phonny, turning back and calling out aloud, "Jemmy! what's his name?"
At length, when he got pretty near her, he called out for her to stop and see what she had made him do. "Did I make you do that?" said Malleville, looking at the rent, while Phonny stood with his foot extended, and pointing at it with his finger. "Yes," said Phonny, "because you hurried me." "Well, I'm sorry;" said Malleville, looking very much concerned.
The two children of Mrs. Forester, Bella and Albert, were in the cart, treading down the hay as fast as Thomas pitched it up. As soon as Phonny and Malleville reached the place, Malleville stood still with her hands behind her, looking at the scene with great interest and pleasure. Phonny wanted to know if Thomas had not got another pitch-fork, so that he might help him pitch up the hay.
There was a log fence at the foot of the tree, and the distance was not very great from the uppermost log of the fence, to the lowermost branch of the tree. So Phonny thought that he could get up without any difficulty.
Come, I'll carry you home in my wagon." "But I am afraid to go home," said Jemmy. "What are you afraid of?" asked Beechnut. "Of my father," said Jemmy. "Oh no," said Beechnut. "The horse is not hurt, and as for the grist I'll carry it to mill with mine. So there is no harm done. Come, let me put you into the wagon." "Yes," said Phonny, "and I will go and catch the horse."
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