There was no trouble in getting the goat down to the wharf, for it would follow John wherever he went. To get it into the boat was another matter, but that was accomplished at last, and they started out over the water. John rowed and Asta was to hold the goat; but suddenly it got contrary. It kicked out in spiteful fashion, put its head right against Asta’s stomach, and was altogether unruly.,
The idea of her calling him Johnny boy! That was perfectly outrageous! What right had she to call him by that name? He had outgrown it long ago, and no one used it now except just herself. Here he would be ten years old in a fortnight, no, in twelve days—or, to be exact, twelve days and a half, and so surely he was too old for that baby name.,
Aunt Grenertsen certainly was difficult to talk with; and sometimes he did not even get a “half moon.” He believed he wouldn’t go there any more, or try to please either her or old Katrina, who was almost worse than Aunt Grenertsen.,
“That’s the only thing I’ll really be sorry for—and leaving you, old man. But after all, it was you who was responsible for the trip. I just went because you dared me into it. No, Bob, if Link will go North with me, I’ll have to pass up the Labyrinth.”
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Then some one lifted Johnny Blossom up. He was warm and red, but beaming. “Come soon again, everybody!” he called out.,
“Yes, sir. It was the only—”,
“All right then, Jerry,” was Mr. Whitney’s decision. “I’ll leave it to you and Feather-in-the-Wind to do with him as you like.”,
Johnny Blossom hastened to get Mother’s sharpest scissors—the big shiny ones—for he intended to cut some long strips of stout cloth to tie the goat’s legs with. Johnny cut and cut. Suddenly the big blades slipped, caught Johnny’s little finger, and before he knew it, had cut the tip of it clean off! It hurt awfully—oh, well—not so terribly after all; but my, oh, my! how it bled! Johnny Blossom bound his not over-clean handkerchief around it, but still the blood came. Now it was all over his trousers. Perhaps he had better hide until it stopped.
“Oh, a cabby driver and his wife. The old woman told me once she wished she’d left me on the doorstep where she found me. But I stuck it out with them, until I was about fourteen, I reckon, and then something happened. One day a man spoke to me on State Street and asked if I didn’t want to go out in the country. He made a wonderful picture of the road on which there were no houses, the haystacks under which one could sleep. I’d never been outside of the city and it sounded great to me. He said I could go along with him and he would show me all these wonders. It was springtime and the licking I’d had the night before still smarted, so I went.”
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Developer Response,
“Good-by, little Johnny Blossom, and thanks for the pleasure you have given us.”
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op80k-Wong,
It’s a Quan-Yuan
“What a wonderful thing it is,” Bob said at last.
j0hus-Xu,
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“If we can only get behind the Tongue,” repeated Johnny. They rowed steadily for a while, their red faces showing the effort they made, while the wind blew more fiercely than ever.
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