“I’ve been thinking a goat is a pretty good thing—better’n a calf. The Duke has never earned any money, but Billy has a lot. Suppose we sell the Duke.”
“Not by a long way!” said Harry, scorning the proposal.
“But, Harry, listen to common sense! You know Billy earned a lot this summer. We’d not have the auto if it wasn’t for him. And now here is another fifty dollars come to-day. If one goat can do that, why not get more—one for each of us boys, anyway?”
“But the Duke? Why sell him?”
“I must say you are slow,” responded Tom impatiently. “We’ll have to have some money to buy the goats, won’t we?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to lose the Duke. Say, why not take the money in our banks downstairs and buy some kids? They’d not cost so much as full-grown goats, and they would soon grow.”
“Bully for you!” said Tom, pounding Harry vigorously on the back to express his appreciation of the valuable suggestion. “We’ll do it to-morrow.”
The next day being Saturday and a holiday, the boys proceeded to put their plan into immediate execution. Counting their hoard, they found it totalled six dollars and three cents. “Let’s not wait till afternoon, but go down to the Corners now. Mr. Finnegan has two kids and perhaps he’ll sell one to us,” whispered Harry as they bent over their task of counting the heap of pennies.
“All right, come along,” and snatching caps, they ran to the kitchen and told their mother they were going to the Corners on “important business.”
Mrs. Treat was one of those wise mothers who have the full confidence of her sons, and she never pried into their secrets, for she knew full well they would tell her all about them in good time.