ONE morning in early spring Mr. Watson rolled up the shade at his bedroom window to see what kind of weather was promised for the day when, glancing over to the lane, whom should he see running down its long stretch but Billy Whiskers, Stubby and Button.
“Am I seeing things or is that really and truly my old Billy Whiskers come back to the farm after being away all these years?” he murmured.
“William, what are you talking about?” asked his wife, who was yet in bed.
“Come to the window and see whether or not the goat, dog and cat running along our lane are our old pets Billy, Stubby and Button,” he replied. “But of course they must be, for where in the wide world would one ever find three such animals traveling together?”
By this time Mrs. Watson was in her kimono and slippers and at the window. “I don’t see him,” she said at last.
“You don’t? Down there where the lane runs into the barnyard,” said her husband.
“Oh, yes, I see him now! And do look at the way all the cows, horses, chickens and even Old Shep and Matilda, our tortoise shell cat, are rushing to meet those three. Talk about animals not having sense and feelings! Why, they are almost eating their old friends alive! The way they are all rubbing noses and fussing over them to show their joy at seeing them once more! I feel like hugging them myself! Where do you suppose they have been all these years?” Mrs. Watson asked.
“I don’t know, but I would give a good deal if those three could talk and tell us where they have kept themselves and the experiences they have had, for I wager my best hat they have had some very exciting adventures with many hardships thrown in. I must hurry and dress and then go out to see them,” said Mr. Watson. “I don’t want them to think I am not as glad to see them as my animals are.”
“Wait a few minutes and I will go with you,” said his wife, bustling about.