ured through the gate swinging my cord-wood
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, come here. I was expecting you, and had been
looking out for you, but missed sight of you. I had forgotten all about
the gander."

We gathered up the bundles and the caramels. I was light-hearted again.

How cool was the sitting-room, with the woodbine falling about the open
windows! Aunt brought me a pitcher of milk and some strawberries; some
bread and honey; and a fan.

While I was resting and taking my lunch, I could hear the gander
discussing the affairs of the farm-yard with the geese. I did not
greatly enjoy the discussion. His tone of voice was very proud, and he
did not seem to be speaking well of me. I was suspicious that he did not
think me a very brave girl. A young person likes to be spoken well of,
even by the gander.

Aunt Targood's gander had been the terror of many well-meaning people,
and of some evildoers, for many years. I have seen tramps and
pack-peddlers enter the gate, and start on toward the door, when there
would sound that ringing warning like a war-blast. "Honk, honk!" and in
a few minutes these unwelcome people would be gone. Farm-house boarders
from the city would sometimes enter the yard, thinking to draw water by
the old well-sweep: in a few minutes it was customary to hear shrieks,
and to see women and children flying over the walls, followed by
air-rending "honks!" and jubilant cackles from the victorious gander and
his admiring family.

"Aunt, what makes you keep that gander, year after year?" said I, one
evening, as we were sitting on the lawn before the door. "Is it because
he is a kind of a watch-dog, and keeps troublesome people away?"

"No, child, no; I do not wish to keep most people away, not well-behaved
people, nor to distress nor annoy any one. The fact is, there is a
story about that gander that I do not like to speak of to every
one--something that makes m