IN THE NEEDLEWORK EXHIBIT
After Billy had put a safe distance between himself and Mrs. Treat to
feel at ease, he wandered aimlessly along, letting himself be carried
here and there, wherever he chanced to see anything that offered
interest, when suddenly he heard a squeaky, high-pitched voice saying:
“Oh, where have you been,
Billy boy, Billy boy?”
“Who is that? I do not recognize the voice, but it may be some of my
old friends from the Circus,” and knowing that the voice issued from a
tent near by, he promptly stuck his head under the canvas side and took
a look about.
Billy Whiskers, as you already know, had a very large bump of
curiosity, and tents were no mystery to him after his long experience
of the summer just gone.
“Nothing there,” he quickly decided, when from the other side of the
tent came the inquiry in a sing-song, high falsetto:
“Oh, where have you been,
Billy boy, Billy boy?
Oh, where have you been,
Charming Billy?”
By this time Billy’s eyes commenced to bulge with wonder, for he was as
susceptible to flattery as any.
“I wonder which of my friends is playing this joke. Come out, old
fellow, and give me a fair chance,” he demanded.
“Oh, where have you been,
Billy boy, Billy boy?
Oh, where have you been,
Charming Billy?
I’ve been to seek a wife,
For the pleasure of my life,
She’s a young thing,
And cannot leave her mother!”
came the mocking answer.
“If I could find the insolent fellow, I would cure him of prying into
other people’s affairs. More trouble is made in this world by prying
eyes and itching ears than any other one thing. That much I’ve learned
in my short career. But there is nothing here except that box with the
tin horn sticking out of the top. It must be someone is trying to play
a practical joke on me.”
Billy crept all the way into the tent, for he still hoped to find one
of his friends in hiding. Walking about cautiously to explore, he had
all but reached the mysterious box when once more the voice began to
repeat:
“Oh, where have you been,
Billy boy, Bil----”
“Now I know who ’tis. It’s one of those parrots who traveled with the
Circus, and that box must be her cage. They always were the sauciest
things, and full of importance, and I’ll teach her a much-needed
lesson.”
Backing away to gain a start, Billy made the attack and struck the box
full in the center. Over it went with a great clatter, and the noise
summoned an attendant, who rushed in to see what had happened.
[Illustration]
“Get out o’ here! Get out o’ here! You’ve smashed the greatest
invention of the age,” and, stick in hand, he started after Billy with
wrath in his eye.
Deciding that discretion was much the better part of valor, Billy took
quick refuge in precipitous flight. He crept under the side of the tent
once more, but this time his departure was hastened a trifle by a final
prod from his pursuer.
“No use,” thought the discouraged goat. “I receive many rough knocks
in this great world. If they had not called me in here, I would never
thought of entering, and then the moment I am inside, they boost me out
as if I were an intruder, and so it goes--but here I am at this large
building. Let me see what it has to offer. I always like to make the
rounds to these show places before the crush commences. Besides, this
seems to be devoted to the ladies, so it deserves my first attention.
Then I am always a wee bit shy and timid when the ladies are around, so
altogether it behooves me to get in early.”
In reality, Billy had wandered into the needlework department of the
great Fair. The walls were hung with quilts of all colors and makes.
There was the common four-patch, the more pretentious nine-patch, and
then the intricate, puzzling designs of the tulip pattern, and, above
all, some proud owner had brought her wonderful Rising Sun design, with
its limitless amount of work.
Large pieces of embroidery likewise were displayed, and show cases were
filled with the most expensive and exquisite hand-made laces. Tables
were strewn with fine doilies, elaborate handkerchiefs, scarfs and what
not.
Billy was plainly amazed, and stood with wide-open eyes gazing about.
“Just look at those handsome pillows and the soft, downy cushions!
How fine it must be to sleep on them instead of on a hard bundle of
straw or perhaps on the hay beside the hay stack,” and so musing, Billy
walked the length of the hall.
People were now beginning to crowd the building, and Billy was scarcely
noticed among the throng. Petticoats were much in predominance, as men
are little, if ever, deeply interested in such things as were here
displayed. Billy rejoiced at this, for he did not hold women in such
respect as men--they might shriek louder, but instead of giving chase
and inflicting merited punishment, they much more often merely screamed
their fright, and then collapsed in a little, limp heap. Therefore his
seeming boldness on this occasion.
Once an old lady, dim of sight, patted him on the back, but, bending
closer, discovered his horns and drew fearfully away, wondering at her
fortunate escape.
As Billy strolled along, he became conscious that he was frightfully
hungry, and when he heard a lady exclaim in admiration at a “biscuit
quilt,” he edged nearer to that center of attraction.
There on the wall he saw what appeared to be a mammoth pan of many
colored biscuit. For a long time he gazed at the sight, lost in happy
contemplation of the feast that it would afford. The longer he looked,
the hungrier he grew, and the wilder became the desire to sink his
teeth in the delicious, puffy looking things.
When most of the crowd had pressed on to another point of interest, he
crept up to the toothsome dainty and began to nibble at it.
“Rather tough,” he commented, “but perhaps they’ve baked too hard
around the edge and when I get nearer the middle, the biscuits will be
more tender. It must have been rather a large pan, and the outer ones
had too much heat,” and he ate on with a right good will.
Having consumed all that was within easy reach, he began to pull. With
a crash the entire supporting frame fell to the floor, knocking two or
three people down and striking Billy a spiteful blow on the head.
Blinded for the moment, and enraged, he plunged madly into a show-case.
There the shower of falling, shattered glass terrified him the more,
and he turned to make a frantic rush through the rapidly gathering
throng, knocking down any and all who blocked his path with those
cruel, lowered horns.
Finding progress almost impossible and fearing immediate capture, he
leaped up on a table and ran helter-skelter from one end to the other.
In his mad careening, his horns caught an exquisite lace shawl, and
it went streaming behind him like the tail of a comet as he made one
long, flying leap through an open window, to safety, as he thought, but
S-P-L-A-S-H! Billy landed in a great tub of water in which seven or
eight ducks were calmly besporting themselves.
[Illustration: BILLY LANDED IN A GREAT TUB OF WATER.]
“Three rings for five cents!
Try your luck!
Seven for ten cents!
Win a duck!”
screamed the fakir.
Hearing the wild hissing and quacking of his prize fowls, he turned to
investigate, and just in time to see Billy Whiskers scramble out of the
miniature duck pond and vigorously shake himself free of the water of
his involuntary and unexpected bath.
“There,” thought Billy, “I’m away from that mob of petticoats, and also
from that stringy thing that fastened itself to my horns,” for one
duck, more daring than its fellows, had plucked the cob-webby lace off
Billy’s horns and was waddling off with the filmy plunder.
More concerned about the safety of his ducks than with the intrusion
of the goat, the fakir bustled about restoring them to their tub, and
Billy made off, much to the amusement of the ring throwers.
Perhaps you have known people that were so engrossed with their own
small troubles that they had no thought for the countless beautiful
things in the world about them--never saw the blooming flowers, never
heard the warble of the feathered songster, never enjoyed any of the
countless wondrous things God has put into His world for His children’s
pleasure?
[Illustration]
Well, Billy was not that kind. No sooner had he extricated himself from
his predicament of the duck pond than he cocked up his head, shut one
eye in a provoking wink, and drank in what was as pleasing to his ears
as rare wine to the palate of the epicure--the strains of music from a
merry-go-round.
It was just coming to a standstill as Billy approached, and in the
attending bustle and excitement of unloading the youngsters, he managed
to secrete himself between two prancing, though wooden steeds. In a
moment the shrill whistle tooted its warning and last invitation to
another group to board, and the children crowded the circular platform.
Hurriedly they chose their places, one little fellow crying:
“Oh, let me ride the Billy dote! He is just like the Billy I want at
home, favver!”
And there stood our Billy, rigid as a statue, never wiggling so much as
one whisker while the youngster bestrode his back and clutched at his
horns.
Round and round and round the merrymakers circled, as dizzy as they
were happy. The piano played, the children laughed, and the grown-ups,
though scarcely so boisterous, enjoyed the trip fully as much as the
little folks whom they accompanied--for of course they had to go along.
Wouldn’t it be too dreadful if the boys and girls should tumble off
their steeds?
Presently the merry-go-round stopped, and as the children poured
fourth to make room for the next relay, Billy cautiously watched his
opportunity to escape, dizzy and very weak of leg from the rapid
circling of the merry-go-round. As he made off, he skulked behind this
building and that, fearful that someone who had witnessed the havoc he
had created in the fancy-work department might still be on his trail.