While his father was busy with the horse and the boy sat huddled in a corner, it happened that other callers came to the farm.

The fact was that when Morten Goosey-Gander found himself so near his old home he simply could not resist the temptation of showing his wife and children to his old companions on the farm.  So he took Dunfin and the goslings along, and made for home.

There was not a soul in the barn yard when the goosey-gander came along.  He alighted, confidently walked all around the place, and showed Dunfin how luxuriously he had lived when he was a tame goose.

When they had viewed the entire farm, he noticed that the door of the cow shed was open.

“Look in here a moment,” he said, “then you will see how I lived in former days.  It was very different from camping in swamps and morasses, as we do now.”

The goosey-gander stood in the doorway and looked into the cow shed.

“There’s not a soul in here,” he said.  “Come along, Dunfin, and you shall see the goose pen.  Don’t be afraid; there’s no danger.”

Forthwith the goosey-gander, Dunfin, and all six goslings waddled into the goose pen, to have a look at the elegance and comfort in which the big white gander had lived before he joined the wild geese.

“This is the way it used to be:  here was my place and over there was the trough, which was always filled with oats and water,” explained the goosey-gander.

“Wait! there’s some fodder in it now.”  With that he rushed to the trough and began to gobble up the oats.

But Dunfin was nervous.

“Let’s go out again!” she said.

“Only two more grains,” insisted the goosey-gander.  The next second he let out a shriek and ran for the door, but it was too late!  The door slammed, the mistress stood without and bolted it.  They were locked in!

The father had removed a sharp piece of iron from the horse’s hoof and stood contentedly stroking the animal when the mother came running into the stable.

“Come, father, and see the capture I’ve made!”

“No, wait a minute!” said the father.  “Look here, first.  I have discovered what ailed the horse.”

“I believe our luck has turned,” said the mother.  “Only fancy! the big white goosey-gander that disappeared last spring must have gone off with the wild geese.  He has come back to us in company with seven wild geese.  They walked straight into the goose pen, and I’ve shut them all in.”

“That’s extraordinary,” remarked the father.  “But best of all is that we don’t have to think any more that our boy stole the goosey-gander when he went away.”

“You’re quite right, father,” she said.  “But I’m afraid we’ll have to kill them to-night.  In two days is Morten Gooseday[1] and we must make haste if we expect to get them to market in time.”

[Footnote 1:  In Sweden the 10th of November is called Morten Gooseday and corresponds to the American Thanksgiving Day.]