Having given vent to her displeasure by rumpling up the bed clothes and throwing the pillows on the floor, she trotted away without waiting to liberate the cubs, whom she left to cool their heels in the closet.
Downstairs she skipped and out on to the big verandah, and seeing that the coast was clear she took to her heels and sped as swiftly as her paws could carry her in the direction of the barn.
Sally’s voice floated toward her, laughing and chattering to Peter Pan as the two swayed backward and forward in the big swing under the apple tree, now white with its perfumed blossoms.
But Bedelia had very good reasons of her own for wishing to remain unseen, and forged ahead, keeping well in the shadow of the hollyhock hedge, and this time succeeded in escaping observation.
Swiftly she hastened to the stables and there, once inside in the cool half-twilight, paused and looked about her.
Most of the stalls were empty, but Doxey, the beautiful Shetland pony, lifted his head with its flowing double mane and regarded her with serious brown eyes.
But it was not Doxey to whom the meddlesome little bear now turned her attention, but to Dick, the woolly white Angora goat, whose stall was just next. In a moment she was swarming up on his back, pulling herself up by his thick coat and finally taking her station on his back, when grasping his horns with her two front paws she issued a series of vigorous “get ups” that had the final effect of producing a series of gyrations which the ambitious equestrienne had not taken into her calculations.
Suddenly heading around, Dick made a break for the door and once outside proceeded to stand first on his hind and then on his fore legs, for, failing to send the queer thing on his back sliding down over his tail, he concluded that the next best thing was to start her slipping over his head.