“You can’t slide down no railings, pick-chesk or no pick-chesk,” put in Eliza, promptly.
“You couldn’t, anyway,” said Cricket, “because you have to sit still, Zaidie. You can’t hop around when you have your picture taken. Don’t you remember?”
“Zaidie, you stand up by the post,” began Eunice, when Cricket interrupted her.
“Look! There’s Johnnie-goat trotting up the street. Do let’s have him in. He would be picturesque.”
“S’pose he’d stand still?” asked Eunice doubtfully. “I don’t want to spoil my picture.”
Johnnie-goat was a very celebrated character in the neighbourhood. He belonged to a livery-stable that was on the square back of the Wards. He was famous for eating off his rope and running away. He was a big white goat, with unusually long horns, and a very inquiring disposition. He was such a ridiculous fellow, too, sometimes munching sedately at a stray banana-skin or orange-peel, then kicking up his heels as if an invisible imp had tickled him, and walking off on his forefeet. He was a very discerning goat, also, and knew perfectly well his friends from his enemies. He had goodwill for the one, and butts for the other. One way that he knew his friends was that they always wore dresses, while his enemies were clad in trousers. That was one invariable mark. Then, his friends gave him apples to eat, and scratched the sensitive place between his horns that he couldn’t possibly reach himself, and which, therefore, was seldom properly scratched. His enemies usually saluted him with stones, and offered him tin cans to eat. Now Johnnie-goat was perfectly willing to acknowledge that he could eat tin cans on occasions, but they were not his favourite diet, and he didn’t care much for them. He regarded it as something of an insult to be constantly offered them. It was one thing, if he chose occasionally to pick one up himself and see if he liked the brand, but he decidedly objected to having them so often forced on his attention.
The result of all this was, that Johnnie-goat’s disposition was somewhat mixed. Like some people whom we have known, when he was good he was very good indeed, but when he was bad he was simply terrific. He seemed to know no middle course.
I do not know why he was not called Billy, in accordance with all traditions. His full title was John O’Rafferty, Esq., and on many occasions he got the whole benefit of it.
He was great friends with all the Ward children, who, from having so many pets of their own at Kayuna, had a special predilection for any stray animal. Johnnie-goat perfectly understood this fact—for any one who thinks that a goat is not a highly discriminating creature, is not acquainted with his peculiarities.
On this particular morning, Johnnie-goat was quite willing to be treated to some banana-skins, which the cook brought out to tempt him with. He fully realised that it was a very solemn occasion, for he stood like a sentinel, and only blinked once.