“Where can we get a wagon?” Janet asked.
“Make one,” said her brother. “There’s lots of old wood around grandpa’s barn. Wait till we get home.”
On the way, riding on the goat’s back, Trouble told how he had slipped out of the barn and how, after throwing stones in the brook, he had seen what he thought was a “’ittle bossy-cow.” He had taken the goat by the horns. This the animal, being very gentle, let him do without offering to butt him. Then Trouble led the goat along until, half by accident and half in playfulness, the goat had shoved Baby William backward into the nest of the hen that had stolen away from the chicken yard to lay her eggs under the bush.
“Oh, my dear children! what in the world have you been doing?” cried Mother Martin as she saw the little procession come down the path toward the house. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, Mother! Trouble found a goat, and we’re going to keep him!” cried Ted.
“’Ittle bossy-goat,” put in Trouble.
“And he sat down in a hen’s nest, but we washed him off!” added Jan.
“Who, the goat or Trouble?” asked Daddy Martin with a laugh.
“Trouble,” answered Ted. “He was all whites and yallers, but he’s pretty clean now, and please may we keep him?”
“Who, Trouble or the goat?” asked Grandpa Martin.