Aunt Fanny could hardly help smiling. 'Carlo was indeed a good dog, and I am very sorry that he is dead,' she said. 'But you must not think, my dear, that all the other animals are stupid. My goat, Billy, is, in his own way, as clever as Carlo, as you may see to-morrow morning—that is, if you are up in time.'
Lucy thought to herself that Aunt Fanny's rough goat—of whom, in her heart, she was a little afraid—could not possibly equal poor, faithful Carlo. But she took care to be early next morning, and very soon she found out her aunt's meaning.
Miss Cresswell was writing at her desk, and Mary, the maid, was busy getting breakfast, when the postman came to the gate.
'There is the postman with a letter,' cried Lucy. 'Shall I run and take it, auntie?'
'Oh, never mind!' said Aunt Fanny. 'Billy will do that.'
"Billy allowed the letter to be taken."
Sure enough Billy trotted up to the smiling postman and received the letter in his mouth. Once or twice he capered round Lucy, who had followed to the gate, and then, standing quite still, he held up his head as if proud of his achievement, and allowed the letter to be taken.
'Good Billy,' said Lucy, as, ashamed of her former fears, she patted his shaggy side. 'You are clever. It is just as wonderful for a goat to bring the letters as for a dog to carry a basket.'