Gladys, the Reaper

by Anne Beale

'It is too heavy for you, ma'am, said Owen, emphasising the 'ma'am.'

He took the bucket from her, and carried it to the shed, where Gladys dosed and fed her sick cow so very tenderly, that Owen was impelled to say,—

'I wish I were that cow.'

'Oh, sir! she is but a poor, sick, witless animal.'

'But she has you to nurse and be kind to her; so I wish I were that cow.'

'Sure, sir, I would be glad to nurse you if you were sick,'

'Would you, Gladys? Then I will be sick to-morrow.'

'I hope not, Mr Owen. Come, poor Mally. Drink it up.'

'Never mind, Mally, but attend to me. Will you not be so cold and stiff, and respectful to me? I hate a girl who "sir's" me as if I were a lord, and makes me curtseys, and never looks at me, and seems as if she hated me—'

'Oh, no, indeed no, sir—'