“Well, I think I’d a little rather hear a story about animals than most anything I can think of.”
“Have I ever told you about Old Whitey?”
“No, indeed,” cry all, “will you do it now?”
“Some years ago, I went to board for a few weeks in a quiet mountain village in Connecticut. The Farmer’s wife, with whom I stayed, was a simple body who loved her cows, pigs and chickens next to her boys; but above all of their out-of-door pets Old Whitey Cow reigned chief. One day, I went into the barnyard, with Mrs. May, to watch the milking. Whitey’s turn always came first, but for some wise reason of her own, that morning, Madam Whitey kept out of the way, till her patient Mistress could wait no longer, so called Speckled Sides to come to her. Just as the white stream began to flow into the shining pail, Old Whitey appeared, looking very much excited. Trotting briskly up to Speckled Sides, she pushed her away with her horns, kicked over the pail of milk, and then stood demurely before her Mistress, as if she had only done the most proper thing in the world.
“One rainy morning, as I pushed my window-curtain aside, I saw Tom May and his Brother coming up the lane, with a large umbrella over their heads, from under which Whitey’s broad flanks and bushy tail appeared. Mrs. May told me whenever the boys came into the pasture with an umbrella, Whitey would come trotting up and put her head under its shelter, and walk along as the village people used to say, ‘just like folks.’
“One day the good old creature strayed away from home and visited the village, where she surprised a fine city lady who was boarding there for the Summer, by suddenly thrusting her head under her silk sun-umbrella and showing her intention to join in the promenade. When the lady indignantly stamped her foot and scolded, Old Whitey retreated as if subdued, but, a moment after, ran up behind her, thrust her horns under the umbrella, and, to the great amusement of the lookers on, and greatly to the indignation of the umbrella’s owner, bore it triumphantly off through the principal street of the village.
“Fancy the surprise of the May family, when they saw Old Whitey coming up the lane, with her head sheltered by a silk umbrella through which her horns were sticking.
“Mrs. May tells another story about her favorite’s intelligence. She had an Irish girl living with her, who had a lover, a stable boy, living near. One day Mike visited his Biddie as she was preparing to milk Whitey, and Biddie became so engaged in her talk that she forgot her business.
“In vain Whitey whisked her bushy tail in the milk-maid’s face; Biddie had eyes and ears for no one but Mike. At last the impatient animal turned slowly around to see what was the trouble, and immediately rushed up to poor Mike, and fairly drove him from the barn yard, then took her place before the astonished Biddie, who did not need to be again reminded of her duty.”