The woman kept on picking flowers. Lightfoot stood near the gate watching her, but she did not see him. Pretty soon she called:
“Mike, bring me the watering can. The flower beds are dry.”
“All right, Mother, I will. Sure if I had Lightfoot back again I’d make a little sprinkling cart and have him draw it. It’s a grand place for goats—the country farm.”
Lightfoot pricked up his ears. He could not understand it. But that name Mike—that voice—
He walked into the yard. The woman picking flowers looked up. Mike came along with the sprinkling can, and when he saw the goat he nearly dropped it.
[“Mother, Mother!” he cried. “Look! Look! It—it’s Lightfoot—come back to us!”]
“Lightfoot?”
“Sure! Look at the likes of him as fine as ever—finer! Oh, Lightfoot, I’m so glad!” And this time Mike did drop the watering pot, splashing the water all about as he ran forward to throw his arms around the goat’s neck while Mrs. Malony patted him.
And so Lightfoot came to his new home. By mistake he had gone the wrong way, but it turned out just right. He could not tell how glad he was to see Mike and his mother again, for he could not speak their language. But when Lightfoot met the horses, the cows and the pigs on the farm the widow and her son owned, the goat told them all his adventures, just as I have written them down in this book.
“Lightfoot has come back to me! Lightfoot has come back!” sang Mike. “I wonder how he found this place?”