to the irregular grass, and saw the head and a very
long neck running along on the ground, propelled by the dark body,
like a snake running away from a ball. It was coming toward me, and
faster and faster as it approached.

I dropped my bundles.

In a few flying leaps I returned to the road again, and armed myself
with a stick from a pile of cordwood.

"Honk! honk! honk!"

It was a call of triumph. The head was high in the air now. My enemy
moved grandly forward, as became the monarch of the great meadow
farmyard.

I stood with beating heart, after my retreat.

It was Aunt Targood's gander.

How he enjoyed his triumph, and how small and cowardly he made me
feel!

"Honk! honk! honk!"

The geese came out of the lilac bushes, bowing their heads to him in
admiration. Then came the goslings--a long procession of awkward,
half-feathered things; they appeared equally delighted.

The gander seemed to be telling his admiring audience all about it:
how a strange lad with many bundles had attempted to cross the yard;
how he had driven him back, and had captured his bundles, and now was
monarch of the field. He clapped his wings when he had finished his
heroic story, and sent forth such a "Honk!" as might have startled a
major-general.

Then he, with an air of great dignity and coolness, began to examine
my baggage.

Among my effects were several pounds of chocolate caramels done up in
brown paper. Aunt Targood liked caramels, and I brought her a large
supply.

He tore off the wrappers quickly. He bit one. It was good. He began to
distribute the bonbons among the geese, and they, with much liberality
and good-will, among the goslings.

This was too much. I ventured through the gate, swinging my cordwood
stick.

"Shoo!"

He dropped his head on the ground, and drove it down the walk in a
lively waddle toward me.

"Shoo!"

It was Aunt Targood's voice at the door.

He stopped immediately.

His head was in the air again.

"Shoo!"

Out came Aunt Targood with her broom.

She always corrected the gander with her broom. If I were to be
whipped I should choose a broom--not the stick.

As soon as he beheld the broom he retired, although with much offended
pride and dignity, to the lilac bushes; and the geese and goslings
followed him.

"Hester, you dear child," she said to my sister, "come here. I was
expecting you, and had been looking out for you, but missed sight of
you. I had forgotten all about the