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.
He was so well-behaved that when Johnnie turned him into the pasture,
afterward, Johnnie never dreamed that Twinkleheels could be planning any
mischief.

The next morning Johnnie took Twinkleheels' halter and the four-quart
measure with three big handfuls of oats in it. Then he walked up the
lane to the pasture, leaned over the bars and whistled.

Though there was no pony in sight, Twinkleheels soon came strolling out