Martha Shepherd volunteers to keep the peace. We think to rename her Constable. —Journal of Samuel Carter, 1814 THE GOATMAN pawed at the spilled flour with a hoof. "I have a te-e-emper." "I can see that." "You said I sme-e-ell." "I know. I'm sorry about that." "I didn't know I smell." "You probably don't notice." "Some of it might be my robe. I spi-i-ill things on it." "Aye." "You said something about the ... the na-a-appers." "Napkins." "You said you wa-a-ash them. We could wash my robe." Medford considered his choices. He could stand up, open the kitchen door, and demand that the Goatman leave Island immediately, taking the dog with him. Well, maybe he could leave the dog. But what would the Goatman do if Medford told him to leaver? Whip up the wind until every tree was flat and Island underwater? And what would Medford do, left alone to face scandal and exile without a ... Could you call someone a friend if he blew your house half into splinters? Medford didn't have the brainpower to sort all that out at the moment.
