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He threw himself down behind a wild rosebush. They would probably sail away soon and then he could go down after his clothes. Pretty lucky to have got away from that cross merchant! Eric had always said he was an awfully cross man. “See here!” he said to her; “here is a Christmas present for Tellef; but just as surely as you meddle the least bit with the paper, I’ll send a snowball right through your head. So now you know what to expect.” Bob—that was the horse’s name—knew Johnny whenever he went into the stable; there was no doubt about that, for the little horse would turn around in his stall and whinny at the sound of the boy’s step or voice. Of course Johnny always had sugar for him and brushed his pretty coat for him every day—dear, cunning little Bob!.
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“Sorry,” sympathized Bob, “but I guess they found I’d got out and that scared ’em.” Eric took to his heels and sped like an arrow across the beach and up to the forest. Johnny Blossom sprang after him, throwing the boat-hook on the wharf as he went. He never thought of his clothes until he was in the woods. He threw himself down behind a wild rosebush. They would probably sail away soon and then he could go down after his clothes. Pretty lucky to have got away from that cross merchant! Eric had always said he was an awfully cross man. It was as if the sun were an artist, who, not satisfied with his efforts, changed and changed again the colors on his canvas, for each moment the tints and hues would fade or grow more intense as the shadows grew deeper, and the scene would seem quite different..
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