"I've just got to take that two-year-old Devon down to the lower pasture," said Jonathan, "and then I'll harness. We ought to start early, because it's too hot to drive Kit fast."
"Do you think you'd better take the cow down this morning?" I said, doubtfully. "Couldn't you wait until we come back?"
"No; that upper pasture is getting burned out, and she ought to get into some good grass this morning. I meant to take her down last night."
"Well, do hurry." I still felt dubious.
"Oh, it's only five minutes' walk down the road," said Jonathan easily. "I'm all ready for church, except for these shoes. I'll have the carriage at the door before you're dressed."
I said no more, but went upstairs, while Jonathan started for the barnyard. A few minutes later I heard from that direction the sounds of exhortation such as are usually employed towards "critters." They seemed to be coming nearer. I glanced out of a front window, and saw Jonathan and his cow coming up the road past the house.
"Where are you taking her?" I called. "I thought you meant to go the other way."
"So I did," he shouted, in some irritation. "But she swung up to the right as she went out of the gate, and I couldn't head her off in time. Oh, there's Bill Russell. Head her round, will you, Bill? There, now we're all right."
"I'll be back in ten minutes," he called up at my window as he repassed.
I watched them go back up the road. At the big farm gate the cow made a break for the barnyard again, but the two men managed to turn her. Just beyond, at the fork in the road, I saw Bill turn down towards the cider-mill, while Jonathan kept on with his convoy over the hill. I glanced at the clock. It was not yet nine. There was plenty of time, of course.