“We’re going to the fair tomorrow, Grandma. It’s childrens’ day,” announced Bobby one evening when he and Alice and Pink came to Grandma’s room for their usual evening call and story.
“Are you going, Grandma?” inquired Pink.
“Why, I may go. I don’t know yet. Do you like to go to the fair?”
“Yeh, boy!” interrupted Bobby eagerly. “And this year they’re going to give a pony away. I wish I’d get that pony.”
“That would be nice,” agreed Grandma. “I think I’ll tell you tonight about the time we took our horse, Prince, to the fair at Clayville. I had been to the fair several times before, and I always loved to go. To get up early in the morning, and dress and eat breakfast and start before daylight with a big basket of dinner tucked away in the back of the surrey; to take the long pleasant drive through the cool of the morning and at last go through the gates into the fair grounds and see all the people and hear the noise of the sideshow barkers and the bands and the balloon whistles and the lowing of cattle, uneasy because of their strange quarters, was every bit of it a joy to me—usually.
“But this particular year it wasn’t a pleasure to look forward to the fair at all, even though there was to be a balloon ascension. For when we went to the fair Father was going to take Prince along and sell him to a horse dealer. Father had raised Prince, and we all loved him, especially Charlie and I. He was nine years old, but he still looked like a colt. His coat was brown and glossy, and he was as playful and active as he had ever been. When he had been a colt, the older children had petted him and fed him sugar. Charlie and I had taken it up when they left off, so that he had always been used to children and loved them.
“But Prince had a bad habit, and that was the reason he was to be sold. He balked whenever a grown person rode or drove him. The only thing he was any good for at all was carrying Charlie and me to the store for Mother. He would take us both at once or one at a time wherever we wanted to go and never balk once while we were on his back. Father said that if Charlie and I had been older he would have kept Prince, but by the time we would need a horse Prince would be too old to be of much use. If he could even have been trusted to take Mother to church and back when the roads were too rough to drive, Father would not have sold him. But he was sure to stop some place or other, no matter how cold the day, and refuse to budge until he got ready. So Father said he could not afford to keep him any longer, and as none of our neighbors would want him he would sell him to the horse dealer for what he could get. This wouldn’t be much, for of course Father would tell the man that Prince balked.
“So we went to the fair as usual, except that Prince went along and was hitched with the other horses to the fence until Father should get ready to see the horse dealer some time after dinner.
“I went with Mother to Floral Hall, which was just a little, whitewashed building, and looked at quilts and fancy work and cakes and pies and pianos and stoves and pumpkins and potatoes until I got tired and wandered on ahead of Mother—who was busily talking to some people she knew—to the door, and there was Charlie waiting for us.
“He had been out to see the cattle and poultry. He said our white-faced steer and Mother’s bronze turkeys had taken blue ribbons and he wanted me to come and see them.
“As we passed our horses, Prince whinnied, and I suggested that we say good-by to Prince again. So we went over to where he was hitched to the fence. We petted him and fed him an apple that Charlie had in his pocket, and then Charlie said we would take a last ride. So he got on first and I climbed up behind him and put my arms around his waist and we were off. For a while Prince trotted about on the grass, and then we came to an opening that led into the race track. Before we realized what he was doing, Prince had turned through this opening into the circular track.
“Two men were standing at the entrance talking. One of them was an old man. The other, a big man with a wide-rimmed felt hat and high-topped boots, waved a riding whip at us and called out something that we did not hear as we passed, but Prince kept right on. Charlie could have turned him around, but he wouldn’t, though I begged him to. The trainers were exercising their horses on the track, but Prince paid no attention to anything, looking neither to right nor to left. We must have been a queer sight—two children riding bareback on a big farm horse around the race track. By the time we got to the grandstand quite a crowd had gathered and they cheered us loudly as we passed. Charlie, not to be outdone, waved his hat in return.
Prince turned through the opening that led to the race track
“When we got back to the gate we had come through, Charlie pulled Prince’s mane and he turned out into the grass again.
“The men were still talking, and the one who had called to us patted Prince’s head and asked us if we had enjoyed our ride. Then, because it looked so silly, we told him how we happened to be on Prince at a place like that and how Father was going to sell him because he balked and wouldn’t work and how sorry we were and afraid some one would buy Prince from the horse dealer because he was so handsome and then beat him when he found he balked.
“The old gentleman seemed greatly interested and asked us Father’s name and a great many questions about Prince. We told him how he would do anything for us and was as safe as safe could be. Then we hitched Prince to the fence and said good-by to him and went to dinner. My dress was all wrinkled and my hair was mussed and my face burned from being in the sun, and Mother was not at all pleased that Charlie and I had made ourselves so conspicuous.
“But we had lots of fun that afternoon watching the races and eating peanuts and drinking pink lemonade. There was the balloon ascension, and Father took us into some of the shows and bought us ice cream, molded into cakes and wrapped in paper, which was called ‘hokie-pokie.’
“We had balloons and peanuts and canes to take home with us, and when we got in the surrey to go home Prince was gone and no one mentioned him. But when we were well out of town Father said, ‘Well, children, you may rest easy about Prince. He has a good home where he will be well treated, and it is largely due to Charlie and Sarah.’ And then he told us all about it.
“The man at the gate with the wide felt hat and high-topped boots was the horse dealer, and the old man with him was hunting a horse that would be safe for his little granddaughter, who had been sick and was not strong, to ride and drive. When he saw Charlie and me on Prince and heard what we said, he knew that Prince was the very horse he wanted.
“So he had bought him from Father and paid a hundred dollars, when Father had only expected to get fifty dollars at the most. He didn’t care a bit because Prince balked, for no one would use him but the little girl and he would be quite as much a pet as when we owned him.
“‘And that extra fifty dollars shall go to Charlie and Sarah,’ said Father, ‘for their very own.’
“The next time Father went to Clayville, sure enough, he put twenty-five dollars in the bank for Charlie and twenty-five dollars for me, and he gave us each a brand new bank book with our names on the backs. We never saw Prince again, but the man who bought him took care of him and was good to him until Prince died a few years later.
“Now what shall I tell you tomorrow night? Oh, I know—a Hallowe’en story!”