"I speak under correction," said Cai thoughtfully; "but looking at what cows I've seen,—end on. And anyway, you can't call a cow's udder square; not in any sense o' the word."
"What beats me, I'll confess," said 'Bias, shifting the argument, "is how these butchers and farmers at market can cast their eye over a bullock an' judge his weight to a pound or two. 'Tis a trick, I suppose; but I'd like to know how it's worked."
"Why?"
"If 'twas a vessel, now, an' tons burden in place o' pounds' weight, you an' me might guess pretty right. But when it comes to a bullock!"
"I don't see," objected Cai, "how it consarns either of us."
"You don't?" asked 'Bias with a look which, for him, was quick and keen.
"To be sure I don't," answered Cai. "If it happened as I wanted to buy a bullock to eat, all at one time—and if so be as I found myself at market in search o' one,—I should be anxious about the weight. That goes without sayin'. An' the odds are I should ask the honestest-lookin' fellow handy to give a guess for me. But with you an' me 'tis a question o' two pounds o' rump steak. I know by the look if 'tis tender, and I can tell by a look at the scales if 'tis fair weight. I don't ask to be shown the whole ox."
"I daresay you're right," said 'Bias, apparently much 'relieved. "It'll save a lot of trouble, anyhow, if you're goin' in for public life. A man in public life can't afford time for details such as weighin' bullocks. But, for my part, I'm beginnin' to take an interest in agriculture."
"And why not?" agreed Cai. "There's no prettier occupation than farmin', so long as a man contents himself with lookin' on an' don't start practising it. Actual farmin' needs capital, o' course."
To this 'Bias made no response, but continued to stare thoughtfully at
Mrs Bosenna's kine.