Benjamin looked at him,
and wished Caesar was big enough to shake him. He had named the puppy
Caesar on his way home from the village. There was a great mastiff over
there by the same name. Benjamin had always admired this big Caesar, and
now thought he would name his dog after him. It was the same principle
reduced on which Benjamin himself had been named after Benjamin
Franklin.
Benjamin trudged down the road, kicking up the dust with his toes. That
was something he had been told not to do, so now in this state of mind
he liked to do it. The sun beat down fiercely upon his small red cropped
head in the burned straw-hat, and his slender shoulders in the calico
blouse. The puppy was large and fat for his age, and made his arms ache.
The stone-walls on both sides of the road were hidden with wild-rose and
meadowsweet bushes; the fields were dotted with hay-makers; now and then
a loaded hay-cart loomed up in the road. Many boys no older than
Benjamin had to work hard in the hay-fields, but Grandfather Wellman was
too careful of him; he would not let him work much in vacation; he had
never been considered very strong. But Benjamin did not think of that.
One grievance will outweigh a hundred benefits. He hugged the struggling
puppy tight in his arms and trudged on painfully, brooding over his
wrongs.
He muttered to himself as he went, "Wanted a dog ever since I was born.
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