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Updated: May 17, 2025
I had just come down from the city to the Cape with my sister Hester for my third summer vacation. I had left the cars with my arms full of bundles, and hurried toward Aunt Targood's. The cottage stood in from the road. There was a long meadow in front of it. In the meadow were two great oaks and some clusters of lilacs.
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.
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.
I was hungry, and before me rose visions of Aunt Targood's fish dinners, roast chickens, and berry pies. I was thirsty, but ahead was the old well sweep, and behind the cool lattice of the dairy window were pans of milk in abundance.
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.
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