"And keep her there!" finished Joe Doane.
The Doanes ate their meal in stricken silence. Finally Doane burst out, "What's the matter with you all? Such a fuss about the orderin' off of a goat."
"It's a government goat," lisped Edgar.
"It's a government goat," repeated his wife in a tense voice.
"What do you mean—government goat? There's no such animal."
But it seemed there was, the Cadaras had, not only the goat, but a book about the goat. The book was from the government. The government had raised the goat and had singled the Cadaras out as a family upon whom a government goat should be conferred. The Cadaras held her in trust for the government. Meanwhile they drank her milk.
"Tony Cadara said, if I'd dig clams for him this afternoon he'd let me help milk her to-night," said young Joe.
This was too much. "Ain't you kids got no spine? Kowtowing to them Portuguese because a few folks that's sorry for them have made them presents. They're ginnies. You're Doanes."
"I want a goat!" wailed Edgar. His father got up from the table.
"The children are all right," said his wife, in her patient voice that made you impatient. "It's natural for them to want a few of the things they see other children having."