“But we must ask your mamma,” said the maid. “Come, she is just going out in the car. We will ask her.”
Mike saw a richly dressed lady getting into a big automobile in front of a fine house. Peter ran to her and said something. The lady beckoned to Mike, who drove his wagon toward her.
“Do you hire out your goat wagon for rides?” asked the lady.
“Yes’m,” said Mike.
“And is he perfectly safe?”
“Yes’m. I drive him myself. I won’t let him run away.”
“Then I think you may have a ride up and down the block, Peter. Marie, here is money to pay the goat-boy. But be careful, won’t you?” she cautioned Mike.
“Oh, yes’m,” he promised. He helped Peter into the goat wagon, on to one of the three rear seats, Marie getting in also. Then Mike started Lightfoot off down the street at a gentle trot.
“Oh, I love this!” cried Peter. “When I grow up I’m going to drive a goat wagon!”