“What makes some of the men in church have no hair on the tops of their heads, Uncle Harry?”

“Because,” said I, pausing long enough to shake Toddie for trying to get my watch out of my pocket, “because they have bad little boys to bother them all the time, so their hair drops out.”

“I dess my hairs is a-goin’ to drop out pitty soon, then,” remarked Toddie, with an injured air.

“Harness the horses, Mike,” I shouted.

“An’ the goat, too,” added Budge.

Five minutes later I was seated in the carriage, or rather in Tom’s two-seated open wagon.  “Mike,” I shouted, “I forgot to tell Maggie to have some lunch ready for the folks when they get here—­ run, tell her, quick, won’t you?”

“Oye, oye, sur,” said Mike, and off he went.

“Are you all ready, boys?” I asked.

“In a minute,” said Budge; “soon as I fix this.  Now,” he continued, getting into his seat, and taking the reins and whip, “go ahead.”

“Wait a moment, Budge—­put down that whip, and don’t touch the goat with it once on the way.  I’m going to drive very slowly—­ there’s plenty of time, and all you need to do is to hold your reins.”

“All right,” said Budge, “but I like to look like mans when I drive.”

“You may do that when somebody can run beside you.  Now!”

The horses started at a gentle trot, and the goat followed very closely.  When within a minute of the depot, however, the train swept in.  I had intended to be on the platform to meet Tom and Helen, but my watch was evidently slow.  I gave the horses the whip, looked behind and saw the boys were close upon me, and I was so near the platform when I turned my head that nothing but the sharpest of turns saved me from a severe accident.  The noble animals saw the danger as quickly as I did, however, and turned in marvelously small space; as they did so, I heard two hard thumps upon the wooden wall of the little depot, heard also two frightful howls, saw both my nephews considerably mixed up on the platform, while the driver of the Bloom-Park stage growled in my ear:—­

“What in thunder did you let ’em hitch that goat to your axle-tree for?”

I looked, and saw the man spoke with just cause.  How the goat’s head and shoulders had maintained their normal connection during the last minute of my drive, I leave for naturalists to explain.  I had no time to meditate on the matter just then, for the train had stopped.  Fortunately the children had struck on their heads, and the Lawrence-Burton skull is a marvel of solidity.  I set them upon their feet, brushed them off with my hands, promised them all the candy they could eat for a week, wiped their eyes, and hurried them to the other side of the depot.  Budge rushed at Tom, exclaiming:—­

“See my goat, papa!”

Helen opened her arms, and Toddie threw himself into them, sobbing:—­

“Mam—­Ma! shing ‘Toddie one-boy-day!’”