Dorian
CHAPTER ONE. Dorian Trent was going to town to buy himself a pair of shoes. He had some other errands to perform for himself and his mother, but the reason for his going to town was the imperative need of shoes. It was Friday afternoon. The coming Sunday he must appear decently shod, so his mother had told him, at the same time hinting at some other than the Sunday reason. He now had the money, three big, jingling silver dollars in his pocket. Dorian whistled cheerfully as he trudged along the road. It was a scant three miles to town, and he would rather walk that short distance than to be bothered with a horse. When he took Old Nig, he had to keep to the main-traveled road straight into town, then tie him to a post--and worry about him all the time; but afoot and alone, he could move along as easily as he pleased, linger on the canal bank or cut cross-lots through the fields to the river, cross it on the footbridge, then go on to town by the lower meadows. The road was dusty that afternoon, and the sun was hot. It would be
Black Mumbo to cook with.
When Black Mumbo saw the melted butter, wasn't she pleased!
"Now," said she, "we'll all have pancakes for supper!"
[Illustration:]
So she got flour and eggs and milk and sugar and butter, and she made
a huge big plate of most lovely pancakes. And she fried them in the
melted butter which the Tigers had made, and they were just as yellow
and brown as little Tigers.
And then they all sat down to supper. And Black Mumbo ate Twenty-seven
pancakes, and Black Jumbo ate Fifty-five, but Little Black Sambo ate a
Hundred and Sixty-nine, because he was so hungry.
[Illustration:]
Uniform With This
Volume:
The Little Red Hen
CHAPTER ONE. Dorian Trent was going to town to buy himself a pair of shoes. He had some other errands to perform for himself and his mother, but the reason for his going to town was the imperative need of shoes. It was Friday afternoon. The coming Sunday he must appear decently shod, so his mother had told him, at the same time hinting at some other than the Sunday reason. He now had the money, three big, jingling silver dollars in his pocket. Dorian whistled cheerfully as he trudged along the road. It was a scant three miles to town, and he would rather walk that short distance than to be bothered with a horse. When he took Old Nig, he had to keep to the main-traveled road straight into town, then tie him to a post--and worry about him all the time; but afoot and alone, he could move along as easily as he pleased, linger on the canal bank or cut cross-lots through the fields to the river, cross it on the footbridge, then go on to town by the lower meadows. The road was dusty that afternoon, and the sun was hot. It would be