“Listen, Mrs. Higgins, we trapped her—”
“Oh say! Can’t you tell a story straight?
“Mrs. Higgins, we lassoed her—”
Each of the boys responsible for one of these outbursts now stood wondering why Mrs. Higgins did not respond. She had not taken a single step forward to welcome her retrieved goat.
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Higgins?” asked Gloria. “Aren’t you glad to get her back?” The jovial Irish face wrinkled into a smile of the one piece pattern. “I was always fond of old Nanny,” said the woman, “but I sold her to Tom Sykes and here you fetched her back—”
She broke into a laugh that began at her toes and surged over her generous form like a merry little earthquake.
“Oh!” sighed the children, crestfallen. Nanny bleated expectantly.
“We can never take her back,” began Gloria seriously. “It was some trouble, we’ll say, to get her over here.”
“Sure, you couldn’t take her back,” agreed Mrs. Higgins, advancing now to welcome the wayfarer. “And isn’t she pretty?” She patted the wreath and Nanny kissed her familiar hand.
“I’ll bet old Sykes starved you—”