CHAPTER V.
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.
“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.”
