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But one fine day there on the forest side of
the farm fence stood the lost goat with a tiny
little baby-goat at her side. And that kid was
the prettiest and cunningest you ever set eyes
on. It had a soft silky little beard, and it
stood on its hind legs and hopped and skipped
as if it would jump over into the field.
The cows came and sniffed at it; the other
goat, that had stayed at home with them,
ex-amined it very particularly; and the little kid
danced, zigzag and every which way; and so it
was introduced to society, you might sav.
How we children ran after that little
billv-goat! But Karsten was the worst, for he went
to the forest every single day to tend it and
brought it home every single night.
“ I rather think I shall have to give you that
kid,” said Mother Goodfields to Karsten one
night as he came along carrying it.
From that time Karsten was a changed boy
altogether, for he didn’t give a thought to the
big lake that he had cared so much about all
summer. In his brain there was absolutely
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