The lady saw how Mike felt about it, so she said kindly:

“Well, never mind, my boy. I wouldn’t want to take your pet away from you, any more than I’d want my little boy to lose his, if he had one. It’s all right. But you are lucky to have so good a goat.”

[Lightfoot, coming up to get some of the salt which he licked from Mike’s hand, did not know what his master was saying.]

“Yes’m; I think so myself. Come on now, Tessie. I’ll take you home, and if ever you come by yourself on the trolley tracks again I’ll never give you another pickaback ride.”

“Oh, then I won’t ever come,” lisped Tessie, her hand in Mike’s. “And will you give me a piggy back ride now?”

“Yes,” promised Mike; and amid the laughter of the trolley car passengers Mike took the little girl up on his back and trotted off, making believe he was a horse. Lightfoot ran alongside, and, seeing him, Tessie said:

“Lightfoot pushed me so hard I sat down in the grass, Mike.”