Maybe if Trouble hitched up Nicknack and went for
a ride he'd turn down the back street 'cause it's quieter."
"Yes, he may have done that," agreed Mrs. Newton.
So down the back street the three went. There were several vacant
lots on this street and as the grass in them was high--tall enough to
hide a small boy and a goat and wagon--Bob said they had better look
in these places.
This they did. There was nothing in the first two vacant lots, but
in the third--after they had stopped at one or two houses and had not
found the missing ones--Teddy suddenly cried out:
"Hark!"
"What'd you hear?" asked Bob.
"I thought I heard a goat bleating," was the answer.
"Listen!" whispered Mrs. Newton.
They kept quiet, and then through the air came the sound:
"Baa-a-a-a-a!"
"That's Nicknack!" cried Teddy, rushing forward.
"I hope your little brother is there, too," said Mrs. Newton.
And Trouble was. When they got to the lower end of the vacant lot
there, in a tangle of weeds, was the goat-wagon, and Nicknack was in
a tangle of harness fast to it.
"Look at Trouble!" cried Teddy.
There lay the little fellow, sound asleep in the goat-wagon, his
head pillowed on his arm, while Nicknack was bleating now and then
between the bites of grass and weeds he was eating.
"Oh, Trouble!" cried Mrs. Newton as she took him up in her arms.
"Yes--dis me--I's Trouble," was the sleepy response.
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