"Half-past ten," I said gently; and added, "What are you going to do with her now?"
His jaw set in a fashion I knew.
"I'm going to put her in that lower pasture."
I saw it was useless to protest. Church was a vanished dream, but I began to fear that Sunday dinner was also doomed. "Do you want me to help?" I asked.
"Oh, no," said Jonathan. "I'll put her in the barn till I can get a rope, and then I'll lead her."
However, I did help get her into the barn. Then while he went for his rope I unharnessed. When he came back, he had changed into a flannel shirt and working trousers. He entered the barn and in a few moments emerged, pulling hard on the rope. Nothing happened.
"Go around the other way," he called, "and take a stick, and poke that cow till she starts."
I went in at the back door, slid between the stanchions into the cow stall, and gingerly poked at the animal's hind quarters and said, "Hi!" until at last, with a hunching of hips and tossing of head, she bounded out into the sunny barnyard.
"She'll be all right now," said Jonathan.
I watched them doubtfully, but they got through the bars and as far as the road without incident. At the road she suddenly balked. She twisted her horns and set her front legs. I hurried down from my post of observation in the carriage-house door, and said "Hi!" again.