"It was. The big American, Señor Lathrop, makes so much fuss over her, you would think she was a fine horse."
"What about Señor Lathrop?" a laughing voice demanded. "Oh, drat this language, I keep forgetting." He stopped and then said very slowly in Italian: "Good morning, how are you this morning?"
"Oh, I am very well, and you," Lucia replied, "you have been very good to take such care of Garibaldi."
"Garibaldi? I don't understand," Lathrop replied.
Lucia pointed to the goat and said slowly. "That is her name."
"Name! The goat's name Garibaldi!" Lathrop exclaimed, and added in English, "Well I'll be darned!"
"Not just Garibaldi," Lucia corrected him. "Her name is 'The Illustrious and Gentile Señora Guiseppe Garibaldi,' but we call her Garibaldi for short."
Lathrop understood enough of her reply to catch the name. He threw back his head and laughed uproariously.
"All that for a goat! No wonder she was a good sport with a name like that to live up to!"
He stood for a long time looking at the poor, shaggy animal before him, then he laughed again and went into the convent.