AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
On the fourth day of imprisonment, Doctor Ward came up after luncheon
and carried mamma, somewhat against her will, off for a drive, as she
had not been out of the house for a breath of fresh air since the
Drayton party. Marjorie was left in charge. Zaidie, just in the state
where she wanted whoever she didn’t happen to have with her, wailed
disconsolately, as she stood at the window watching her father and
mother drive off.
“I want something to ’muse me with, Margie. Mamma’s gone and I
can’t—see—Helen, and I hasn’t anything—to ’muse me—with,” she sobbed,
flattening her nose against the window-pane.
“You ungrateful little wretch,” said Donald, trying to make a face at
her, but not succeeding in twisting his features much more than they
were already. “Here are two people devoting their days and nights to
keeping your highness serene—though I must say that I prefer to be paid
according to my efforts rather than my success.”
“If we were paid according to our success, we wouldn’t go to Europe on
the proceeds,” sighed Marjorie. “See, Zaidie, there’s Johnnie-goat
trotting down the street—I do believe his tail has grown a little
longer. Don’t you think so?”
Zaidie dried one eye and peered out. Instantly she conceived an idea.
“I want to see Johnnie-goat. I hasn’t seen him for seventy-ten years,
Marjorie. I want him to come up here and see me.”
“You can see him out of the window, pet. He couldn’t come up here—goats
don’t know anything about houses, you know.”
Zaidie instantly shrieked. Three days of immediate obedience to her
demands had spoiled her.
“I want him! I want him! My throat’s hurted me drefful, an’ I want
Johnnie-goat. I want him—up—here!”
“Great Scott, Zaidie! stop howling. Let’s have him up, Meg. Anything for
a diversion.”
“But, _Don_! the goat up _here_? We can’t.”
“In the bright lexicon of youth, there’s no such word as ‘can’t.’ I’ll
whistle down the speaking-tube to Sarah to entice him into the area, and
I’ll go down and bring him up somehow. He can’t do any harm, and if it
quiets the kidlet for a moment, it’s worth trying. Hollo, there, Sarah!”
Sarah responded, and the order was given. Zaidie stopped sniffling, and
watched the proceedings eagerly from the window.
Sarah—much amazed, but too well trained to question any order of Master
Don’s, however peculiar—ran out to induce Johnnie-goat, by every
blandishment in her power, to enter the basement door. But wary
Johnnie-goat, much more accustomed to being driven away from doors by
the application of broom-sticks than being politely entreated to enter,
suspected treachery, and backed off, moving his lowered head from side
to side.
The whole “mumpy” tribe eagerly watched the manœuvres from above. Sarah
would approach him with an indifferent, abstracted air, as if she didn’t
see him at all, and then would suddenly make a grasp at his horns.
Johnnie-goat would stand with an equally abstracted gaze as she came
nearer; then, at the last instant, up would go his heels skittishly, and
off he would go, to a convenient distance, and again await Sarah’s
approach. She displayed banana-skins temptingly, and drew him, by means
of them, almost to the area door, when the same performance would be
repeated. All the time she kept up an uncomplimentary tirade under her
breath, mingled with her enticing words to him.
“Come, Johnnie! Johnnie! good Johnnie! Oh, yer dirty blackguard! yer
wretched spalpeen, you! It’s a clubbin’ with a big shillaly I’d be after
givin’ you! Come here, yer good goaty! Come and see the purty little gal
what’s waitin’ fur ye! Oh, the capers! takin’ that son-of-a gun
up-stairs! You murtherin’ wretch, I’d drown yer fur a cint! Come here,
good old goaty! come to Sarah! Ach, murther, howly saints! git yer evil
eye off me!” as Johnnie suddenly reared and waltzed around on his hind
legs, in a way peculiar to goats, presenting a low-bent head
threateningly in her direction.
“Get hold of him now, Sarah,” shouted Donald, throwing up the window for
a moment. “He won’t really hurt you. Grab his horns!”
Here Marjorie slammed down the window indignantly. Sarah, quaking with
terror, but feeling she must obey Mr. Donald though the heavens fell,
made a desperate rush and really grabbed the threatening horns with a
heavy hand. She was big and strong, and as soon as she actually touched
him, her Irish blood was up for a scrimmage. Even Johnnie-goat, to his
own intense surprise and indignation, was as wax in her hands. Tucking
his head well under her arm, by main strength she dragged him along,
protesting with all his legs, to the area door. By that time Johnnie had
recovered his presence of mind, and then ensued a tremendous racket that
brought the waitress to the rescue.
Johnnie-goat, of course, was filled with amazement at these strange
proceedings, and his shrill “ba-a’s” went all over the house. Sarah and
Jane dragged him, struggling fiercely, along the basement hall to the
stairs. Then Sarah, getting him by his wrathful horns, and Jane pushing
from behind, wherever she could get hold, puffing and panting, they
propelled bewildered Johnnie-goat remorselessly up the stairway, his
sharp little hoofs beating a strongly rebellious tattoo as he went,
bleating like a whole ranch of goats.
Over the stair-railing, on the upper floor, hung five eager faces, each
of the older ones calling out different suggestions, while Zaidie, her
mumps all forgotten, shrieked hoarse applause to them all. As Eliza was
out with Helen and Kenneth, they missed all this exciting time.
Arriving on the second floor, panting Sarah was obliged to sit down on
the stairs to rest. She threw her apron over Johnnie-goat’s head,
thereby reducing him to a still wilder state of amazement, and hugged
his neck tightly under her arm to keep him quiet.
“Hould on to his hinder-legs, Jane,” she directed, and Jane immediately
got hold of each wildly kicking hind leg. As Johnnie-goat was obliged to
use his fore legs to stand on, he was, for the first time in his life,
reduced to a condition of ignominious surrender. His vociferous cries
filled the house.
The children, up-stairs, were in shrieks of laughter. Sarah looked as
grimly determined as if she were attacking a tramp. She strongly
disapproved of the whole proceeding, but, as is often the case with the
servants in a large household of children, she was absolute devotion to
the whole tribe, and if they had ordered it, would have attempted to
walk up the side of the house. Jane was doubled up with laughter, and
with difficulty held on to her end of the captive. Sarah kept up a
running comment.
“Be still, you slathery spalpeen; stop kickin’ me. Ye’ve kicked me till
the futs uv me is black till the knee, I’ll be bound. Rest yerself the
while; nobody’s going to hurt yer. Come, then, if yer wants to go, we’ll
be off wid yer now. Take another h’ist, Jane. Shure, Masther Don, it’s
hopin’ ye’ve got a rope up there I am, else it’s tearin’ yez all to
pieces he’ll be.”
“Come on,” shouted Donald, boyishly; “bring on your plunder. I’ve got a
trunk-strap to fasten him with.” Donald dived into the trunk-room, and
reappeared with a long strap.
“Oh, my goodness, how he wiggles!” cried Zaidie, clapping her hands
ecstatically, as the procession started up-stairs again. “Johnnie-goat!
Johnnie-goat! keep still, and let Sarah carry you, there’s a good
goatie!”
And thus, pushed and pulled, Johnnie-goat, bewildered and indignant, was
delivered into Donald’s hands, and the hot and panting maids returned
down-stairs.
Donald fastened the long strap to his collar, and then to the
balustrade. Being released from durance vile—that is, from his enforced
retreat under Sarah’s strong arm,—he shook himself vigorously, and then
straightway executed a war-dance, first on his hind legs and then on his
fore legs, and then, apparently, on one at a time, alternating the
performance with a succession of dives and butts that sent the children
shrieking and laughing in all directions out of his way.
“Oh, my throat!” sighed Cricket, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ve
certainly split my mumps! _Don’t_ make me laugh so, Johnnie-goat. Don’t
you know your friends?”
Apparently Johnnie didn’t, for he instantly butted fiercely in Cricket’s
direction.
“I do b’lieve he’s hungry,” said Zaidie, hospitably offering him a
newspaper. In the midst of his wrath, Johnnie-goat recognised this
familiar object, and, after eying it a moment, he suddenly dropped his
warlike demeanour, accepted the paper as a peace-offering, and fell to
chewing as placidly as if he stood on his native heath—that is, the
livery stableman’s back yard. Under the calming influence of this
familiar occupation, he soon dropped every appearance of resentment, and
finally ducked his head in his usual friendly fashion, to let Zaidie
scratch him between the horns.
One of Johnnie-goat’s accomplishments was jumping over a rope held a
foot from the ground. Cricket now proposed to make him do it, as the
hall was long enough to give him a good run for it. As they did not dare
to let him go entirely, Donald tied a long, stout cord to each side of
his collar, so that somebody could drive him and jump the rope with him.
Of course that somebody was Cricket. When the reins were ready, and
Cricket had them well in hand, Donald unfastened the trunk-strap, and
Eunice and Zaidie each held an end of it in place, so that Johnnie-goat
could jump over it.
He knew the programme perfectly well, and stood quietly while the
arrangements were being made.
“All ready,” cried Donald, as much a boy at heart as ever, in spite of
his eighteen years and his Freshman dignity. “Let him go, Gallagher!”
“Get up, sir!” cried Cricket, shaking her string reins. Johnnie-goat
stood provokingly still, gazing abstractedly out of the window.
“Get up, sir,” repeated Cricket, giving him a gentle push in the rear
with her foot.
The touch gave Johnnie-goat the excuse he had been waiting for. He gave
one of his sudden darts, dragging the strings from Cricket’s hand, and
was free. He pranced forward, escaping Donald’s hands, knocked down
Zaidie, who promptly howled, and dashed into Eunice’s room. There he
encountered a small table, the contents of which were instantly strewed
over the floor, while the children ran screaming after him.
“My work-basket!” shrieked Eunice, darting forward to rescue it, as
Johnnie-goat stopped, with one foot through the pretty straw cover, and
nibbled inquisitively at a tape measure. He kicked out behind and butted
in front when the children tried to catch him, and then turned his
attention to a little silver-topped emery.
“Oh, Don! do get it!” cried Eunice, clasping her hands tragically, as
the emery went into the capacious mouth, and Johnnie-goat meditatively
rolled it over with his tongue, to get its full flavour.
Don deftly seized Johnnie-goat’s horns with one hand, and bent back his
head with the other, pulling at the silk cord that drooped gracefully
out from his mouth—thus rescuing the emery from its Jonah-like retreat.
“Oh! oh!” wailed Eunice, taking the wet and dirty object daintily by
thumb and finger, “it’s all spoiled! You bad Johnnie-goat! Box his ears,
Don. Look out, Cricket, there he goes at your new shoes. Do get him down
stairs now. Ow! there goes my Dresden pin-tray!” with a shriek of
despair. Johnnie-goat, whisking from side to side of the room, in search
of new excitement, had swept his bearded chin over the low
dressing-table, among the array of pin-cushions, trays, bottles,
photographs, and brushes. Smash went the dainty Dresden pin-tray on the
floor as Eunice spoke, and Johnnie-goat danced off.
“Come, you young bull in a china shop, we’ve had enough of you,” said
Donald, diving after him, and catching him by whatever was nearest. It
happened to be his tail, which was a short but firm handle. Johnnie-goat
whipped around indignantly, and Donald grabbed at his horns.
[Illustration: AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.]
“Whistle down the tube for Sarah to take him, Meg,” he called. “No,
stop; I’ll take him down myself, the kids are out of the way. Come this
way, young chap,” and Donald pulled and hauled Johnnie, vigorously
rebelling, to the top of the staircase. As Johnnie looked down to the
floor below, possibly he regarded the stairs as some curious kind of
mountains, which his inherited instinct made familiar, for he suddenly
plunged headlong down them so fast that Donald lost his balance, and
went heels-over-head after him, goat and Freshman arriving at the bottom
at the same moment, in an inextricably mixed-up condition. Overhead the
excited girls watched and screamed.
Donald unwound his long length slowly. He and the goat had mutually
broken each other’s fall, and nearly each other’s necks. As it happened,
neither was hurt. At least, Donald discovered that he was not, and as
for Johnnie-goat, he seemed as much alive as ever, but in such a state
of amazement at all the strange experiences that he was going through,
that he quietly submitted to let Don lay hold of his collar, and escort
him at a slow and dignified walk down the next flight.
They were half-way down when there was a quick click of a latch-key, and
the front door opened. Doctor Ward and a stranger entered. Both stared
in amazement.
“How under the canopy—” began Doctor Ward; but Donald interrupted him,
explaining calmly:
“Goat ran away from the Odd-Fellow’s Lodge, over there. The poor
creature is nearly starved; I’m taking it back.”