CHAPTER XIII
TROUBLE OVER GINGER COOKIES
A FEW days after all this excitement Billy went over to Mr. Goodrich’s farm, which was near that of Mr. Watson, to have a chat with the goats there. On his way to the pasture where the goats were grazing, he had to pass the kitchen door which happened to be open and through which came the delicious odor of hot ginger cookies.
“Yum, yum! How I do love ginger cookies,” thought Billy. “I’ll just take a peek, and see if I cannot get one.”
Cautiously creeping up the kitchen steps, he peeped in. Seeing no one but spying a whole bread board covered with the cookies which had just been taken from the pans to cool, he skipped across the floor and rolled three or four into his mouth, when he heard someone coming up out of the cellar and he made his escape in a hurry. He had reached the bottom of the steps when he saw two little boys coming from the barnyard carrying a basket of eggs between them. He crept under the steps so they would not see him. Within a few feet of the house, one stopped short, grabbed the other by the arm, exclaiming as he did so:
“Joe, I smell ginger cookies! Come, let’s hurry and get Augusta to give us some. Oh, Augusta,” raising his voice, “do give us some cookies! They smell too good for anything!”
“Yes, do, Gustie! I just love your cookies. They are so much better than our cook makes.”
Good-natured Augusta was about to give them half a dozen or so when she noticed that some had already been taken.
“No, I won’t give you any more. You have already helped yourselves to half a pan of them. Do you think I have nothing to do but make cookies for you two to eat like little pigs?”
“What are you talking about, Gusta? We just this minute came in the door. We never touched your cookies!”
“Honestly we didn’t,” said Joe, backing up Ned.
“You needn’t add lying to your stealing! Guess I know! Those cookies go just twelve in a pan, and four of them are gone. Do you mean to tell me they put on their hats and went out for a walk? Shame on you, boys, for lying to me!”
“But I tell you, Gusta, we never touched them or as much as knew they were here until we came in the door. You came in the same moment we did. And here we are standing over on this side of the room and the cookies are away over there on that side. Now tell me how we could have gotten them.”
“Well, you may have been over here and grabbed them and run back to the door when you heard me coming,” she said slowly.
“But we didn’t, and you are a mean old thing to accuse us of lying and stealing—two things we do not do!”
“Oh, merciful goodness!” exclaimed Augusta, throwing up her hands and looking with horror at her clean kitchen floor. “See, see! Some one has been in here and tracked mud all over my floor!”
“Ha, ha! See there, now! Whoever did that stole your cookies too,” said Joe.
“I bet it was the grocery boy, as no one else comes around here,” said Augusta.
“Gusta, you are too quick to accuse people when you really have no reason to do so. These are not the footprints of a person at all but of some animal, and the tracks look like those of a sheep or a goat.”
“So they do! Well, just wait until I find the animal and I will give it a good beating with my broom,” she threatened. “I don’t care so much for the cookies as I do about the floor, for now I shall have to scrub it again, and there is no fun in getting down on my rheumatic knees to clean this floor.”
While Augusta was grumbling, the boys edged their way over to the table and helped themselves to three cookies apiece.
“Oh, Gusta, quick! I smell something burning,” cried Ned. “It must be more cookies.”
Horrors! When she reached the oven door and opened it, a cloud of black smoke rushed out and when she carried her pan of cookies over to the table she saw at a glance they were burned to a crisp.
“Here, Ned, take them out and throw them in the swill pail,” she said.
This the boy did, and presently Augusta, Ned and Joe had the pleasure of seeing a big white goat dancing around like mad. Billy had gone to the pail to eat the discarded cookies, and not knowing they were so hot, had taken two, one of which stuck to the roof of his mouth, burning him dreadfully and causing him to dance with the pain.
“There is your cookie thief, Gusta! You better go after him with your broom,” said Ned.
Augusta grabbed the broom and rushed toward Billy, but Billy was in no mood to be reproved in this manner, so when she was near him he surprised her by butting her right over his head, and she landed in the horse’s drinking trough with a great splash. The boys, enjoying all this, began to throw the eggs from their basket at Billy. Of course when they hit him they broke and the yellow yolks ran all over his nice white coat. This angered him and he ran toward the house to butt the boys, but they leaped inside the door and shut it, throwing more eggs at him from the safety of the window.
Just now Mrs. Goodrich entered the kitchen and seeing the boys throwing eggs from the basket, exclaimed, “Boys, boys! What are you doing? What do you mean by throwing nice fresh eggs at something?”
“Oh, we forgot they were eggs! We were throwing them at a big, cross white goat outside. He has just butted Gusta into the watering trough, and we were trying to chase him away. Here he comes up the steps now!”
Bing, bing, bangety-bing! Two hard butts in quick succession on the kitchen door. As it was not tightly closed, it flew open and in came Billy, looking for his tormentors. One dove under the table, the other stepped up on the table right on top of the cookies, while Mrs. Goodrich plunged into the dining room and barricaded the door by pushing the dining table against it and piling the chairs on top of it.
Billy tried to get at the boy under the table but could not do so as the table stood against the wall. But he could reach the boy on top of the table by climbing on a chair beside it. This he did but as he came up one side, the boy jumped down the other, upset the table and the beloved cookies rolled in all directions. Seeing this, Billy let the boys escape and turned his attention to eating every cookie he could find. He had just concluded he had found them all, even to the one he pawed out from under the stove when who should appear in the doorway but the hired man, pitchfork in hand. He was evidently in pursuit of Billy Whiskers.
Now there was one thing Billy feared and that was a pitchfork. He had good reason to do so, for he had been chased with them and had had them stuck in his sides many, many times. Consequently on seeing this man standing in the doorway armed with one, he looked around for a way to get out of the room. There was the door into the dining room so well barricaded by Mrs. Goodrich and the outside door guarded by the man with the pitchfork. Oh, there was a flight of stairs and without a moment’s hesitation he ran up them, the man close behind, trying his best to reach him with the long-handled fork. Arriving at the top, he saw another flight leading down into the front hall. Down these he plunged, but half way down he encountered Mrs. Goodrich. She was so frightened at seeing the big goat coming toward her that she lost her balance and went rolling to the bottom. Billy ran into the living-room and thank goodness, a window was open. He jumped through and made his escape down the road. By the time the hired man had picked up Mrs. Goodrich and had satisfied himself no bones were broken, Billy was out of sight and there was no telling in which direction he had gone. So he went around to the kitchen to see how Augusta was getting along. He found her all right physically but mentally she was mad as a wet cat. For had not Olie, her best beau, seen her in a very undignified position, sitting in the watering trough with legs hanging over and struggling to get out? And worse yet, he had laughed when he tried to help her out. He could not control himself for she looked too funny stuck fast in the trough. And so now all she would say was:
“Olie Oleson, I will never, no, never speak another word to you as long as I live! So there!”
Olie had heard this threat many times before so that it did not bother him in the least, for he knew the very next time she saw him she would have forgotten all about her threat.
“I believe I won’t go back and see the goats this morning but wait until these people cool off,” thought Billy. “If that hired man should happen to see me down in the pasture, he might take a shot at me. My, but those ginger cookies were good! Wish I could have taken some to Nannie and the rest of the family at home. The Twins especially would have been delighted with them. I don’t see why goats and animals don’t have pockets in the sides of their skins. It would be such a convenience for them to be able to take presents home to their families and to carry a lunch sometimes when they have no idea when they will be able to find food the next time.”
And so musing, Billy went home.