The Tale of Pony Twinkleheels | Page 5

disliked
more than another, it was picking currants. Of course he didn't object to
strolling up to a currant bush and taking a few currants for his own use,
on the spot. What he hated was having to fill pail after pail full of
currants for his mother to make jelly and jam.
It was queer. He certainly liked jelly. And he liked jam. But he had
never found currant picking anything but dull. He always groaned
aloud when his mother told him that the currants were ripe enough to
be picked. And he always had a dozen reasons why he couldn't pick
them just then.
Now, however, currant picking didn't seem such a bore to Johnnie.
When his mother announced at the supper table one evening that
Johnnie would have to begin picking currants right after breakfast the

next morning he didn't make a single objection. And he had intended to
go swimming the next day!
"I think--" Johnnie remarked--"I think some of the boys would like to
help. After supper I'll ride Twinkleheels over the hill and ask the boys
to pick currants with me in the morning."
Farmer Green and his wife listened to this speech with amazement.
"I never heard of a boy that liked to pick currants," said Johnnie's father.
"Still, you can try if you want to."
"Come home before it gets dark!" said his mother.
"Look out for that pony!" Farmer Green exclaimed. "I don't know
what's come over him. I stepped into his stall to-day and he kicked at
me. I've never known him to do that before."
Johnnie Green promised to be careful, and to come home early. Having
important business on his hands, he hurried away without a second
piece of cake. And that was a most unusual oversight on his part.
In the morning three boys appeared before Johnnie had finished his
breakfast. Though they had already eaten theirs, they accepted Mrs.
Green's invitation to sit at the table and have some griddlecakes and
maple syrup. "If you boys are going to pick currants you'll want a good,
big breakfast," she told them.
There was no doubt that they agreed with her.
"If they're as lively at picking as they are at eating you'll have all the
currants in the kitchen by noon," Farmer Green remarked to his wife
with a laugh as the boys trooped off toward the barn with their tin pails.
A few minutes later a noise as of terrific pounding reached the ears of
Farmer Green as he stood talking with his wife.
"What's that?" he muttered. "It sounds as if the barn was falling down."

He ran out of doors. The racket came from the barn. There was no
doubt of that. And he could hear Spot barking.
Farmer Green hurried across the yard. Somehow he guessed that
Johnnie and his helpers had a hand in whatever was going on. Farmer
Green did not run toward the broad front door of the barn. Instead he
circled to the back of the barn and peeped around the corner. What he
saw caused him no great surprise.

VII
CAUGHT!
There was a good deal of giggling and loud whispering at the back door
of the barn. It ceased instantly when Farmer Green cried "Stop that!" in
a loud voice.
Johnnie Green and his friends looked startled--and sheepish, too. They
had been throwing currants through the doorway, to make
Twinkleheels kick.
The boys fell back a few steps as Farmer Green joined them.
"Was Twinkleheels doing all that kicking?" Farmer Green asked
Johnnie. "It was so loud that I thought the barn would fall down any
minute."
"We threw a few currants at old Ebenezer," Johnnie Green explained
somewhat faintly.
His father gave him a sharp look.
"Huh!" Farmer Green grunted. "He didn't kick--did he?"
"N-no! N-no, sir!"
"Did you throw at the bays?" Johnnie's father demanded.

"Only once or twice!" Johnnie confessed.
"Once or twice is too much," his father said sternly. "Don't meddle with
the bays. And don't tease the pony, either. You've chosen the surest
way to make a kicker of him.
"How long," Farmer Green demanded, "has this business been going
on?"
"Only a short time!" Johnnie assured him. "I never threw any currants
until they began to ripen."
[Illustration: Twinkleheels Tells Spot About Kicking. (Page 34)]
"I suppose," said his father, "you never threw any until there were some
to throw."
Johnnie Green appeared much more cheerful when he heard that
remark of his father's. Although Farmer Green's face wore a frown, and
his voice sounded most severe, Johnnie could tell that he was laughing,
inside.
"Come on!" Johnnie cried to his friends. "Let's get to work. If we hustle
we can get the currants all picked by noon."
So long as Farmer Green