“The blessed saints only know that,” said Master Jacob. “It may be a black cat for all that I know; it was a black goat when I left home this morning.”
And what was Master Jacob going to do with his little black goat? That was what they should like to know.
“Oh,” said Master Jacob, “I am about to send my little black goat on an errand; if you will wait you shall see for yourselves.”
Then what did he do but hang the basket around the goat’s neck. “Go home to your mistress,” said he, “and tell her to boil the beef and cabbage for dinner to-day; and, stop! tell her to go to Neighbor Nicholas’s house and borrow a good big jug of beer, for I have a masterful thirst this morning.” Then he gave the goat a slap on the back, and off it went as though the ground were hot under it. But whether it ever really went home or not, I never heard.
As for the priest, the provost, and the mayor, you may guess how they grinned at all of this. Good land sake’s alive! And did Master Jacob really mean to say that the little black goat would tell the mistress all that?
Oh, yes; that it would. It was a keen blade, that little black goat, and if they would only come home with him, Master Jacob would show them.
So off they all went, Master Jacob and the priest and the provost and the mayor, and after a while they came to Master Jacob’s house. Yes, sure enough, there was a black goat feeding in the front yard, and how should the priest and the provost and the mayor know that it was not the same one that they had seen at the market-place! And just then out came Master Jacob’s wife. “Come in, Jacob,” says she, “the cabbage and the meat are all ready. As for the beer, Neighbor Nicholas had none to spare, so I just borrowed a jugful of Neighbor Frederick, and it is as good as the other for certain and sure.”
Dear, dear! how the three cronies did open their eyes when they heard all of this! They would like to have such a goat as that, indeed they would. Now, if Master Jacob had a mind to sell his goat, they would give as much as twenty dollars for it.
Oh, no; Master Jacob could not think of selling his nice little, dear little black goat for twenty dollars.