The boy's expressive face suddenly brightened, the blue eyes actually twinkled with fun.
"The very thing," cried Mrs. Crane. "We'll call him Billy Blue-eyes. I told him this morning that, when he came out of the lake, he must have brought some of the color with him. His eyes are certainly blue. Shall we call you Billy?"
"Sounds all right to me," agreed the boy; "but—but I hope I wasn't that goat."
"You weren't," assured Mabel, earnestly. "I liked him, but he butted so many people that Grandma Pike—he belonged to her—had to have him chloroformed and stuffed. The stuffed-animal man wanted him. They didn't have any real glass goat eyes to put in him so they used blue glass marbles. But how did you get in the lake—or out of it, Mr. Billy?"
Again the boy looked troubled.
"I don't know," said he, after a long pause.
"Don't ask any more questions," warned Mrs. Crane. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. Mr. Black sent a notice to the Lakeville paper, by Dave, so his folks'll know he's alive—we described him as well as we could. I even measured him with my tape-measure. He isn't as wide as he ought to be for his length, poor lamb."
"He'll get fat on camp fare," promised Mabel. "Look at me!"
Billy Blue-eyes looked and the troubled expression gave way to one of amusement.
"Phew!" said he, "I'd better not be fed so often—I guess I'll wait awhile for that broth—I've only one suit of clothes, the broth lady says. If I outgrow that——"