When they reached the farm, the cattle had just gone into the corral, and Jansen, the herder, was holding a nervous young cow by the nose, while somebody tried to milk her.
“Why, that’s my Ellen!” said Grandmother, letting down the bars. “Poor Ellen! let go of her, Jansen, and see if she knows me.” She went fearlessly in through the crowd of horns, and made her way to where Ellen stood, spluttering in the herder’s grasp. Every eye of every cow was fixed on her as she soothed and petted the excited creature, until Ellen’s glance became genial, and she rested her head on Grandmother’s shoulder.
“Ellen’s kind of a pet with her,” David explained to the children. “Aunt Eunice raised her from a calf, and once last summer, when Ellen was sick, and had to be tied in the barn, Auntie used to go out and read to her.”
“Stories?” asked both children eagerly.
“Oh, anything! Ellen wasn’t particular. One day I remember ’twas a cook-book.”
“What’s he been telling you?” said Grandmother, laughing, as they went back to the house.
Senator Hicks was waiting for them on the porch, and delighted Eunice by coming to meet her. He was a large, soft pussy with a comfortable stomach, and limp white paws that dangled adorably over one’s arm. And he would purr, even when his mouth was pressed against one’s ear,—a moist, windy purr, most tickling and sweet.
The other farm cat was named Andrew Banks, Jr., and no one had ever heard him purr. He lived in the barn, and caught immense rats, with his double toes like mittens. But Eunice loved him in spite of his wild ways, and felt sure that his purr, if one could only hear it, would be fully equal to the Senator’s.
After supper Jansen saddled Ole, and the children took turns riding him. Ole made no objections, although he had been out all day, but switched his white tail in a thoughtful manner, when Eunice started out, for the third time, down the road. “I don’t need to hurry,” she decided, as she saw Kenneth and Grandmother go back to the house. So she cantered on still farther, her little petticoats bouncing up nearly to her ears with each rise of the horse.
It was splendid riding out into the sunset, with no other person or thing in sight, and feeling that she might gallop on forever and ever to countries beyond the clouds.