“Oh, my throat!” sighed Cricket, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ve certainly split my mumps! Don’t make me laugh so, Johnnie-goat. Don’t you know your friends?”
Apparently Johnnie didn’t, for he instantly butted fiercely in Cricket’s direction.
“I do b’lieve he’s hungry,” said Zaidie, hospitably offering him a newspaper. In the midst of his wrath, Johnnie-goat recognised this familiar object, and, after eying it a moment, he suddenly dropped his warlike demeanour, accepted the paper as a peace-offering, and fell to chewing as placidly as if he stood on his native heath—that is, the livery stableman’s back yard. Under the calming influence of this familiar occupation, he soon dropped every appearance of resentment, and finally ducked his head in his usual friendly fashion, to let Zaidie scratch him between the horns.
One of Johnnie-goat’s accomplishments was jumping over a rope held a foot from the ground. Cricket now proposed to make him do it, as the hall was long enough to give him a good run for it. As they did not dare to let him go entirely, Donald tied a long, stout cord to each side of his collar, so that somebody could drive him and jump the rope with him. Of course that somebody was Cricket. When the reins were ready, and Cricket had them well in hand, Donald unfastened the trunk-strap, and Eunice and Zaidie each held an end of it in place, so that Johnnie-goat could jump over it.
He knew the programme perfectly well, and stood quietly while the arrangements were being made.
“All ready,” cried Donald, as much a boy at heart as ever, in spite of his eighteen years and his Freshman dignity. “Let him go, Gallagher!”
“Get up, sir!” cried Cricket, shaking her string reins. Johnnie-goat stood provokingly still, gazing abstractedly out of the window.
“Get up, sir,” repeated Cricket, giving him a gentle push in the rear with her foot.
The touch gave Johnnie-goat the excuse he had been waiting for. He gave one of his sudden darts, dragging the strings from Cricket’s hand, and was free. He pranced forward, escaping Donald’s hands, knocked down Zaidie, who promptly howled, and dashed into Eunice’s room. There he encountered a small table, the contents of which were instantly strewed over the floor, while the children ran screaming after him.
“My work-basket!” shrieked Eunice, darting forward to rescue it, as Johnnie-goat stopped, with one foot through the pretty straw cover, and nibbled inquisitively at a tape measure. He kicked out behind and butted in front when the children tried to catch him, and then turned his attention to a little silver-topped emery.