"
[Illustration]
"How is it," I asked, "that she is feeding her on old James Joss's
land?"
"Oh! they're very good to Elsie, you see. Nobody cares much about her
grandmother; but Elsie's not her grandmother, and although the cow
belongs to the old woman, yet for Elsie's sake, this one here and that
one there gives her a bite for it--that's a day's feed generally. If
you look at the cow, you'll see she's not like one that feeds by the
roadsides. She's as plump as needful, and has a good udderful of milk
besides."
"I'll run down and tell her she may bring the cow into this field
to-morrow," I said, rising.
"I would if it were _mine_" said Turkey, in a marked tone, which I
understood.
"Oh! I see, Turkey," I said. "You mean I ought to ask my father."
"Yes, to be sure, I do mean that," answered Turkey.
"Then it's as good as done," I returned. "I will ask him to-night."
"She's a good girl, Elsie," was all Turkey's reply.
How it happened I cannot now remember, but I know that, after all, I
did not ask my father, and Granny Gregson's cow had no bite either off
the glebe or the farm. And Turkey's reflections concerning the mother
he had to take care of having been interrupted, the end to which they
were moving remained for the present unuttered.
I soon grew quite strong again, and had neither plea nor desire for
exemption from school labours.
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