"Ain't near enough," Mr. Hancock said as he helped dump the yellow sawdust on the floor and saw it turn dark and wet in seconds. "Tell ye what," he said, noticing Maureen's tear-streaked face, "it's eatin'-time now and we all got to eat, regardless. That'll give this stuff time to absorb all the wet it's a-goin' to. Then ye got to heave it all out, and I'll bring more sawdust, and some chips too. Lucky thing I had it stored high and dry in my barn loft."
Paul piled the empty baskets into Mr. Hancock's truck. Then he and Maureen headed wearily for the house. Maureen was trying not to cry.
"See what I see?" Paul pointed to the back stoop. And there was Grandma milking the nanny goat, who was tied to the stair railing.
"Sh ... sh!" Grandma warned as the children came up. "Don't frighten her. This ain't easy, but I got eenamost enough to make us a nice pot of cocoa."
All during lunch Grandma kept up a stream of conversation to cheer them. "Children," she said brightly, "a she-goat was 'zackly what we needed. If not for Misty, then for us. Ain't this cocoa de-licious?"
Paul and Maureen nodded, too tired for words.
"You can each have two cups. And all the biscuits you can eat, with gooseberry jam. I figger the starving people of the world would think this a Thanksgiving feast, don't ye?"