wagon. There was plenty of room for them and the red-haired driver. Other children on the block crowded to the curbstone and looked on with eager eyes as the Bobbsey twins started on their ride. Mrs. Bobbsey, talking with her friend in the darkened parlor, knew nothing of what was going on.
"Say, he is a good goat," said Freddie, when they were half-way down the block.
"Sure he's a good goat!" agreed the boy, whose name was Mike. "There ain't none better."
"It's lots of fun," said Flossie.
It was a fine day, even if it was Winter. The sun was shining brightly, so it was not cold. What snow there was in New York, before the Bobbseys came on their visit, had either melted or been cleaned off the streets so one would hardly know there had been a storm.
"I wish we had a goat," said Freddie, when the ride was almost over.
"So do I," agreed Flossie. "Let's ask Daddy to buy one," she suggested.
"We will," said Freddie.
"I'm goin' to sell dis goat," put in Mike.
