Old Friends Three good deeds... If his parents were not going to pay attention and be helpful, Howard would just have to do as the old witch wanted. It can't be that hard, he reassured himself. He had stumbled into doing the first good deed almost right away. If the old witch was going to count such things as making a red-dyed goose feel better about herself, he expected he'd stumble into doing the second good deed at any moment now. Any moment ... Any moment ... Any moment ... A week after Howard's parents had fled away from him—a week of goose conversation by day, a cold wet bottom by night, and coming to realize that the old witch's cast-off bread was indeed a treat—Roscoe came to Goose Pond. Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher had just pecked Howard on the head for swimming too near to Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers—even though Howard hadn't even seen her. Then Howard heard a familiar laugh. It can't be, Howard told himself, not daring to believe his best friend had found him.
