“Behave, Betty. You ought to be ashamed,” said Mr. Alder. “You see, she won’t let any strangers near her calf.”
Then he took some grain and put it in Betty’s box, while he tied her head, and sat down on the stool beside her.
Clematis had never seen a cow milked before, and stood watching the white streams which filled the foaming pail, as if Mr. Alder were a fairy. It seemed like magic.
When the pail was full, Mr. Alder poured some into a shiny can, and took the rest to the dairy.
There he poured it into a red machine, with a big bowl. He turned the handle, and soon two streams came out.
“What is that for?” Clematis thought this might be some new magic. Indeed it was magic, almost.
“This is the separator,” answered Mr. Alder. “I pour the milk in at the top, and turn the handle. Then the cream comes out of one spout, and the skimmed milk from the other.”
“Oh, I see,” said Clematis, though it really was all like magic to her.
“Now I guess we are through. Let’s go up and see what they have for supper.”
Mr. Alder took the empty pail, and led her back to the house, where supper was ready and waiting.