over to the yard. It was full of cows, creamy and mouse-coloured, brindled and red-and-white, deep chestnut, glossy black; the slanting sun-rays brightened and grew richer as they caressed those shining hides. Benny and Bonny, Flo and Eva had come down from the oats to milk; Mother, too, was quietly taking part with bucket and stool as a matter of course.
Much to my surprise, there was no leg-roping, and hardly any bailing-up. Silky, Mima, Jewel, Fiddle-face, and the rest, knew each her name, responded to the call of it, and stood to be milked, patient and contented, either in the open yard, or else in the paddock that led from it. It really was as though that spirit of willing good-nature which possessed the human members of the farm extended also to the animals—or rather, as Nance had said, they were obviously all pets. Fat old Pudding, the cat, waited for her evening meal in the most peaceful proximity to Watch, who, for his part, having brought in the cows from hillside and gully without any undue fuss or chasing, now lay by the yard-gate, more as a spectator than a sentinel. The very calves were tame already—far too tame, remarked Flo, as with a milk-pail in one hand and a stout stick in the other she dealt out mercy well-spiced with justice to their eager, jostling little host.
Barely were the calves fed, when down trooped all the harvesters, exultant—the oats were stacked! Tea was the next detail, and after tea Dad agreed that there was really time for an hour’s music before we need start back for town. The boys had all fallen fast asleep upon the living-room lounges,
