THE REWARD
The next morning things at Cloverleaf Farm had settled back into their
accustomed groove. Breakfast was over by half past six, and soon after
a wagon arrived bringing home the Duke, more vain than ever since his
beauty had been publicly recognized, and Toppy, still somewhat ruffled
owing to the long chase she had led her keepers the day previous ere
she had been captured and returned to the coop she had deserted with
Billy Whiskers’ aid.
[Illustration]
The boys had marched off to school, each swinging his lunch basket, and
each wishing that lessons were half as interesting as the Fair.
That evening the postmaster was sitting on the same cracker barrel he
had occupied two days before, and, beaming with good nature, hailed the
Treat trio as they were passing on their way home from school.
“A letter in here for your father!” he called genially.
“Where from?” asked Tom shortly, with but a show of slight interest.
“Springfield, I guess. The postmark is blurred, and so I can’t be real
sure.”
“You go after it, Harry,” commanded the eldest of the three.
“Won’t either!”
“Then you go, Dick,” turning to the little fellow when he found Harry
incorrigible.
“Guess not!” sturdily, hands in trouser pockets, and feet kicking the
deep dust of the roadway. “Papa says _you’re_ to bring the mail, so get
it yourself,” and on he marched.
“Not so anxious now your automobile has come,” said the postmaster as
Tom reluctantly entered.
Hurrying out without waiting to reply, he soon overtook his brothers,
and after examining the envelope, stuffed it in his hip pocket. It
likely would have been there yet had not Dick thought it wise to settle
the responsibility of delivering the family mail in the future.
“Say, papa,” he began at the supper table that evening, “it’s Tom’s
place to stop at the post-office, isn’t it?”
Tom frowned at Harry, thinking that he had prompted Dick to put the
question. Harry frowned back, and even gave his brother a pinch under
cover of the table.
“Boys, boys!” reproved Mr. Treat, “what’s the trouble now?”
“Nothin’,” answered Tom. “Only I asked Harry to get the letter Mr.
Harris had for you, and he wouldn’t, and Dick was stubborn, too.”
“Now, Tom, you know that is your duty. I want my eldest son to bring
the mail. The younger boys might lose it. Even you, big as you are,
seem likely to prove careless, for you have not delivered any letter to
me as yet.”
“Oh, father, I forgot!” and a hot flush of shame at his negligence
mounted Tom’s cheeks, as he hastily produced the missive.
“Of all things! Mother, listen to this,” for as Mr. Treat tore open the
envelope out had dropped a pink slip of paper beside a note.
“Dear Sir:--
I’m a comparatively poor man, but not so poor in gratitude that I
cannot voice my thanks for the rescue of my baby son at the Fair
yesterday. That the rescuer happened to be a goat is no reason why the
act should go unrewarded, and the enclosed check is the effort I make
to express my appreciation of the brave act. I send it in the hope that
it may provide some luxury for those who have trained him so well.
Sincerely,
J. B. MARTIN.”
“How much is it?” gasped Mrs. Treat.
“Fifty dollars, as I live!”
“Of course we cannot accept it?” half questioned his wife.
“I don’t know,” argued Mr. Treat. “I am sure if my baby had been
in such peril, I should not like to have his rescuer return the
thank-offering I made--the only way a man has to show his appreciation
and lasting gratitude, as Mr. Martin says.”
“Let’s keep it to go to the Fair next year. Think what a lot of candy
we can have!” suggested Harry eagerly.
“Well, boys, I think we will keep it, but it will go in the bank
to be added to the fund Billy has already started for your college
educations,” decided Mr. Treat, carefully folding the check and placing
it in his pocket-book.
That night after their mother had tucked the covers about them and put
out the light, Tom snuggled over close to Harry, and whispered:
“Harry, I’ve thought of a plan!”
“What about?”
“I’ve been thinking a goat is a pretty good thing--better’n a calf. The
Duke has never earned any money, but Billy has a lot. Suppose we sell
the Duke.”
“Not by a long way!” said Harry, scorning the proposal.
“But, Harry, listen to common sense! You know Billy earned a lot this
summer. We’d not have the auto if it wasn’t for him. And now here is
another fifty dollars come to-day. If one goat can do that, why not get
more--one for each of us boys, anyway?”
“But the Duke? Why sell him?”
“I must say you are slow,” responded Tom impatiently. “We’ll have to
have some money to buy the goats, won’t we?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to lose the Duke. Say, why not take the money
in our banks downstairs and buy some kids? They’d not cost so much as
full-grown goats, and they would soon grow.”
“Bully for you!” said Tom, pounding Harry vigorously on the back to
express his appreciation of the valuable suggestion. “We’ll do it
to-morrow.”
The next day being Saturday and a holiday, the boys proceeded to
put their plan into immediate execution. Counting their hoard, they
found it totalled six dollars and three cents. “Let’s not wait till
afternoon, but go down to the Corners now. Mr. Finnegan has two kids
and perhaps he’ll sell one to us,” whispered Harry as they bent over
their task of counting the heap of pennies.
“All right, come along,” and snatching caps, they ran to the kitchen
and told their mother they were going to the Corners on “important
business.”
Mrs. Treat was one of those wise mothers who have the full confidence
of her sons, and she never pried into their secrets, for she knew full
well they would tell her all about them in good time.
“All right, boys, but hurry back. It is getting along towards noon.”
Reaching Mr. Finnegan’s home, the boys went to the rear, and were
delighted to have him answer their knock in person.
“Good morning, and what brings you here?” he asked.
“We’ve come to ask if you want to sell one of your goats,” said Tom.
“Well, now, that all depends on how much the buyer will pay. You see,
my kids are very fine ones.”
“Yes, we’ve often seen them in the yard, and they look as good as our
own Billy,” agreed Harry readily.
“How much is one worth?” asked Tom, bristling with business.
“Suppose we go out to see them,” replied Mr. Finnegan, leading the way
to a small shed at the back of the lot. “I’ve said I’d not sell them
for less than ten dollars, but seeing it’s you boys, and your father is
a friend of mine, I’ll say five.”
“Oh, dear, and we wanted two, one for each of us!” lamented Harry.
“You do? And how much money have you?”
“Six dollars and three cents, and we need ten!”
[Illustration]
“Seeing what a very good friend your father is, I’ll let you have them
for that,” said the owner of the kids.
“What?” they chorussed, their eyes dancing at the proposal.
“Just right! six dollars and three cents and you own two kids.”
“Aren’t they fine?” said Harry, eyeing the kids with supreme
satisfaction. “Count out the money, Tom, and we’ll take them home with
us.”
Two happier boys never turned into the Treat drive than Tom and Harry
that Saturday noon.
Mr. Treat had come in from the fields, and Mrs. Treat was fretting
because her sons were not on hand ready for dinner, and went to the
front veranda to watch for their appearing.
“I want to know what those boys are up to now. Father, come out here
this minute. Is it _goats_ those lads are carrying?”
“Looks like it to me,” returned her husband with a silent chuckle.
“As if I haven’t had enough bother with Billy Whiskers!”
“Come in here, Tom,” called Mr. Treat, as the boys were making for the
stables. “What’s this?”
“Why, they’re our new kids! Bought them from Mr. Finnegan. Billy’s
been such a good investment, and three will earn just three times as
much. We’ve one apiece now, and you needn’t worry any more about our
educations.”
“Boys!” gasped their mother, throwing up her hands in amazement.
“Never mind, mother! This is their first business venture, and we must
see what they make of it.”
“But--but, father, you can’t realize what it means. Three goats!”
“There, there, don’t fret! Billy Whiskers will likely take good care of
them. Let the boys have a chance.”
When Mr. Treat allied himself with his sons in this way, their mother
usually yielded, and so it happened that Tom and Harry led their
purchases to the barn for safe keeping, and Billy introduced the kids
as his “twins” to all the barnyard inhabitants. The title clung to
them, for they were as like as two peas, and as long as they lived
at Cloverleaf Farm they were known far and wide as the “twins.” Years
afterwards, when Billy Whiskers was old and feeble, the children of the
twins, and his grandchildren by adoption, would clamor for a story, and
Billy would relate his adventures at the Fair just as you have read
them, and would end by saying:
“But those experiences do not compare with the good times I had with
the twins at Chautauqua the next summer,--not nearly. However, that is
too long a tale for me to tell to-day, and besides, it is recounted in
the book written about us, ‘Billy Whiskers’ Twins.’”
[Illustration: THE END]
The Billy Whiskers Series
TRADE MARK. (REGISTERED U. S. PATENT OFFICE)
BILLY WHISKERS by Frances Trego Montgomery
The biography of a goat that has been purchased for the amusement of
several small children. The first night in his new home Billy gets
into serious trouble; on the morrow he runs away and is appropriated
by an Irish lad, to haul milk to the city; he invades a flat; joins
the circus, but finally returns to the farm and his faithful little
Nanny goat.
BILLY WHISKERS’ KIDS by Frances Trego Montgomery
Day and Night, Billy’s kids, are sold, but not liking their new
quarters, are glad to be kidnapped by Billy and Nanny. They, too,
have many adventures, none less exciting than those of their father,
which are woven into this most readable story.
BILLY WHISKERS, JR. by Frances Trego Montgomery
Being the chronicle of the life of Night, now grown to goathood. He
is purchased by a Westerner and is shipped to the ranch. Soon tiring
of this life, he goes to San Francisco, where he finds a friend in
Stubby, a yellow dog, and together they pursue their travels.
BILLY WHISKERS’ TRAVELS by F. G. Wheeler
Billy is just as mischievous as ever, making more fun than
heretofore. This time we find him abroad, and while in Paris he
creates a panic in a hotel by chewing the electric wires. He figures
in a wreck at sea; encounters a tiger; but through it all he is the
children’s old friend Billy, whom they depend upon to furnish hours
of amusement.
BILLY WHISKERS AT THE CIRCUS by F. G. Wheeler
For fun and adventure worth while, a frolicsome goat and a
circus offer an enticing combination. So it happens that the
ever-mischievous, fun-loving Billy carries his depredations into
Circus-Land. He no sooner glimpses the circus crowds than his antics
begin--to attempt to recount them would be futile, indeed.
BILLY WHISKERS AT THE FAIR by F. G. Wheeler
Every boy and every girl enjoys going to the Fair, and when Billy’s
owners hie themselves to this annual county event, Billy goes
along--though they don’t know it. He has more fun to the minute
than most fair-goers have to the hour, sees everything worth seeing
and does everything worth doing. It is a rollicking story that will
please every young reader.
EACH BOOK BOUND IN BOARDS, QUARTO, ILLUSTRATED IN COLORS.
POSTPAID $1.00
DICKY DELIGHTFUL IN RAINBOW LAND by James Ball Naylor
Dicky is truly a delightful youngster, who ventures over Rainbow
Road, to find himself the guest of Grandfather Gander and Grandmother
Goose in the Land of the Immortals.
Dr. Naylor knows how to please boys and girls, for the story is
brimming over with humor, rapid movement and lively conversation.
THE LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN by James Ball Naylor
The Little Green Goblin comes from Goblinland in his tiny featherbed
balloon, administers a goblin tablet to Bob Taylor, a dissatisfied
boy. The tablet shrinks him to goblin size, and away the two sail for
Goblinland, which is the place where you do as you please. Upon their
arrival, Bob--but to tell more would be to spoil a good story.
WITCH CROW AND BARNEY BYLOW by James Ball Naylor
Barney fell to wishing down in the haylot, along came a crow and gave
him a magic penny--he would always have that much but no more. Many
strange things then happened--things which cured Barney of that bad
habit of wishing.
SQUEAKS AND SQUAWKS FROM FAR-AWAY FORESTS by Burton Stoner
“Mr. Bull has done some remarkably good work for Squeaks and Squawks,
both in colors and halftones. The color work is superb.”--_Grand
Rapids Herald._
Charles Livingston Bull illustrates this charming book of nature
stories, in which the animals speak for themselves.
JIM CROW TALES by Burton Stoner
Jim Crow was the pet of a farmer boy. He was very wise and knew
all about the ways of the beasts and birds, and told them to his
friend--the most interesting anecdotes of the forest folk.
TEDDY BEARS by Adah Louise Sutton
“A fanciful story of the doings of a little girl’s toys, which get
into all sorts of pranks while people sleep. The doings of this
interesting coterie form a pleasing tale for children.”--_Pittsburg
Post._
“Full of the brand of fun that tickles children.”--_Portland
Oregonian._
A LITTLE MAID IN TOYLAND by Adah Louise Sutton
Eating a piece of magic cake, a little girl becomes diminutive and
goes to live among the dollies in her doll house. One day she steps
through the back door and finds herself in Toyland, and thereafter
adventures come thick and fast.
A CHRISTMAS WITH SANTA CLAUS by Frances Trego Montgomery
Santa carries two children to his home in his wonderful sleigh. They
meet Mrs. Santa, are shown a royal good time, and then Santa brings
them back when he makes his annual trip.
EACH BOOK BOUND IN BOARDS, QUARTO, ILLUSTRATED IN COLORS. Postpaid for
$1.00
The Saalfield Publishing Co., Akron, Ohio
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.