I leaned toward her, and gently placed one arm about her neck; she raised her dear face, from which joy and trust had banished every indication of caution and reserve, my lips sought hers, when suddenly we heard a most unearthly, discordant shriek, which presently separated into two, each of which prolonged itself indefinitely. The horses started, and Alice—blessed be all frights now, henceforth and forevermore!—clung tightly to me. The sounds seemed to be approaching us, and were accompanied by a lively rattling noise, that seemed to be made by something wooden. Suddenly, as we approached a bend in the road, I saw my youngest nephew appear from some unknown space, describe a parabolic curve in the air, ricochet slightly from an earthy protuberance in the road, and make a final stop in the gutter. At the same time, there appeared from behind the bend, the goat, then the carriage dragging on one side, and, lastly, the boy Budge, grasping tightly the back of the carriage body, and howling frightfully. A direct collision between the carriage and a stone caused Budge to loose his hold, while the goat, after taking in the scene, trotted leisurely off, and disappeared in a road leading to the house of his late owner. “Budge,” I shouted, “stop that bawling and come here! Where’s Mike?” “He—boo—hoo—went to—boo—light—his—boo—hoo—hoo—pipe, an’ I just let the—boo—hoo—whip go against to the goat, an’ he scattooed.” “Nashty old goat scaddooed,” said Toddie, in corroboration. “Well, walk right home, and tell Maggie to wash and dress you,” said I. “O Harry,” pleaded Alice, “after they’ve been in such danger! Come here to your own Aunt Alice, Budgie, dear,—and you, too, Toddie,—you know you said we could pick the boys up on the road, Harry. There, there—don’t cry—let me wipe the ugly old dirt off you, and kiss the face, and make it well.” “Alice,” I protested,” don’t let those dirty boys clamber all over you in that way.” “Silence, sir,” said she, with mock dignity, “who gave me my lover, I should like to ask?” So we drove up to the boarding-house with the air of people who had been devoting themselves to a couple of very disreputable children, and I drove swiftly away again, lest the children should dispel the illusion. We soon met Mike, running. The moment he recognized us, he shouted: “Ah, ye little dhivils,—beggin’ yer pardon, Masther Harry, an’ thankin’ the Howly Mither that their good-for-nothin’ little bones ain’t broke to bits. Av they saw a hippypottymus hitched to Pharaoh’s chariot they’d think ’emselves jist the byes to take the bossin’ av it, the spalpeens!” [Illustration: THE GOAT, THE CARRIAGE AND THE BOYS]