“B. W. is endowed with altogether extraordinary talents. He has a large amount of curiosity, and often butts into other people’s business.”
“That I do,” chuckles Billy, “though I butt into them quite as much and as often as into their affairs!”
“He was born on the continent.”
“Right again,” shouts Billy, though the crowd think he is merely bleating, but we who understand goat language know much better.
“And his future seems in some mysterious way to be connected with China.”
“Suppose I’m going to travel again,” muses Billy at this information.
“B. W. will rise to a great height in the world, but this may be followed by a fall. Sudden fame is also foretold, and, having been born under a lucky star, he may venture much and gain even more. Thus saith the Magic Pen.”
“Now I’ll salt that down in my memory’s storehouse, and see if the Magic Pen really knows anything. I’ve always thought people silly who believed in signs and such things, but, come to think of it, I did walk under a ladder just before Harry gave me that beating as a punishment because I butted the Duke of Windham around the barnyard a bit for being too obstreperous and presuming too far on our good nature. Perhaps, after all, there is some virtue in signs and fortunes.”
“By the way, speaking of the Duke reminds me that he is on these grounds, and I must find him and have a little chat. He will be glad to see some of the home folks, I know.”
If ever you have attended a county fair, you know that it is very easy to locate the cattle exhibits, for they are invariably in stalls or sheds at one end of the grounds, and what with the cackling of the chickens, squealing of the pigs, and all of the many peculiar and distinctive calls of the farm animals, there is not much chance of losing your way. Billy, of course, walked straight to the stalls, for animals seem to know instinctively how to find one another.