Besides this, her reins were interwoven with sprays and sprigs of foliage, so that her return was marked with gaiety and glamor, when Neddie drummed on a tin pan and Arthur piped on a squeaky tin whistle, as the march towards home-quarters was finally under way.
“It isn’t far, let’s all go,” proposed Blanche when the escort was discussed, and there being no dissenting vote her plan was unanimously adopted.
Mr. Doane laughed heartily as his little guests started off. He was delighted that Gloria had made so many friends in her home town, and while he may have feared the effects of new surroundings upon his brave, if self-willed, daughter—he was too anxious to get away and make brighter prospects for her, to entertain doubts of the ultimate success of his plan.
The last of the marchers had turned the corner before he covered up the engine of the Finnan-Laddie, and a shout from some of the boys sent back a distant report of the triumphal advance.
Over on the back road the youngsters were leading Nanny. She took it all so indifferently. In fact, the fragrant wreath upon her neck and the nice cool leaves brushing her slender sides seemed to please, rather than to trouble, the queen goat.
Mrs. Higgins, fat and good-natured, was at the gate as they came up the lane.
“My land of the livin’! What’s that!” she exclaimed excitedly.
“Your goat,” yelled a chorus.
“We found her—”
“Nope, we hunted her—”