At first the Curlytops were afraid their goat might be made ill from having been stung by a bee.
“Maybe we’d better get a doctor for him,” said Jan.
“Oh, no!” laughed her father. “Nicknack will be all right.”
And so he was, being as kind and gentle as ever when the children went out to see him. They wanted to hitch him up again and drive Hal over to the Home, but Grandpa Martin said he would take the lame boy back in the big wagon. This was done, the children going along for the sake of the drive.
Haying time came a few days later, and Grandpa Martin and his men were busy drawing in the sweet-smelling loads, and storing in the big barn the dried grass that the horses would eat when winter came to cover the green fields with white snow.
“Can’t we go out to the field and ride in on a load of hay?” asked Jan.
“Yes! Come along!” cried her grandfather, so she and Ted got in the big rick wagon that went to the field empty to be hauled back with such a big, towering load on it.
The Curlytops played about in the field while the hired men were piling the wagon high with hay. The horse-rake, with which the dried grass was pulled into long rows, to be made into cocks, or little hills, later, made a nice place for Ted and Jan to play. They took turns sitting on the high iron seat and making believe they were driving a horse.
“Guess you’ll have to get down off that hay-rake now, Curlytop,” called Grandpa Martin to Ted after a while.
“Why?” the little boy asked.