FullReads

Mr. Peterkin declared that he should buy a cow of the quietest kind.

“I should think something might be done about covering her horns,” said Mrs. Peterkin; “that seems the most dangerous part. Perhaps they might be padded with cotton.”

Elizabeth Eliza said cows were built so large and clumsy that if they came at you they could not help knocking you over.

The little boys would prefer having the pasture a great way off. Half the fun of having a cow would be going up on the hills after her.

Agamemnon thought the feed was not so good on the hills.

“The cow would like it ever so much better,” the little boys declared, “on account of the variety. If she did not like the rocks and the bushes she could walk round and find the grassy places.”

“I am not sure,” said Elizabeth Eliza, “but it would be less dangerous to keep the cow in the lot behind the house, because she would not be coming and going, morning and night, in that jerky way the Larkins’ cows come home. They don’t mind which gate they rush in at. I should hate to have our cow dash into our front yard just as I was coming home of an afternoon.”

“That is true,” said Mr. Peterkin; “we can have the door of the cow-house open directly into the pasture, and save the coming and going.”

The little boys were quite disappointed. The cow would miss the exercise, and they would lose a great pleasure.

Solomon John suggested that they might sit on the fence and watch the cow.

It was decided to keep the cow in their own pasture; and, as they were to put on an end kitchen, it would be perfectly easy to build a dairy.

The cow proved a quiet one. She was a little excited when all the family stood round at the first milking, and watched her slowly walking into the shed.

Elizabeth Eliza had her scarlet sack dyed brown a fortnight before. It was the one she did her gardening in, and it might have infuriated the cow. And she kept out of the garden the first day or two.

Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza bought the best kind of milk-pans, of every size.

But there was a little disappointment about the taste of the milk.

The little boys liked it, and drank large mugs of it. Elizabeth Eliza said she could never learn to love milk warm from the cow, though she would like to do her best to patronize the cow.

Mrs. Peterkin was afraid Amanda did not understand about taking care of the milk; yet she had been down to overlook her, and she was sure the pans and the closet were all clean.

“Suppose we send a pitcher of cream over to the lady from Philadelphia to try,” said Elizabeth Eliza; “it will be a pretty attention before she goes.”

“It might be awkward if she didn’t like it,” said Solomon John. “Perhaps something is the matter with the grass.”

“I gave the cow an apple to eat yesterday,” said one of the little boys, remorsefully.

Elizabeth Eliza went over, and Mrs. Peterkin, too, and explained all to the lady from Philadelphia, asking her to taste the milk.

The lady from Philadelphia tasted, and said the truth was that the milk was sour.

“I was afraid it was so,” said Mrs. Peterkin; “but I didn’t know what to expect from these new kinds of cows.”

The lady from Philadelphia asked where the milk was kept.

“In the new dairy,” answered Elizabeth Eliza.

“Is that in a cool place?” asked the lady from Philadelphia.

Elizabeth Eliza explained it was close by the new kitchen.

“Is it near the chimney?” inquired the lady from Philadelphia.

“It is directly back of the chimney and the new kitchen range,” replied Elizabeth Eliza. “I suppose it is too hot!”

“Well, well!” said Mrs. Peterkin, “that is it! Last winter the milk froze, and now we have gone to the other extreme! Where shall we put our dairy?”