"What shall we do? What shall we do?"
Now Jack loved his mother; besides, he felt just a bit sneaky at being such a big boy and doing so little to help, so he said, "Cheer up! Cheer up! I'll go and get work somewhere." And he felt as he spoke as if he would work his fingers to the bone; but the good woman shook her head mournfully.
"You've tried that before, Jack," she said, "and nobody would keep you. You are quite a good lad but your wits go a-wool-gathering. No, we must sell Milky-White and live on the money. It is no use crying over milk that is not here to spill!"
You see, she was a wise as well as a hard-working woman, and Jack's spirits rose.
"Just so," he cried. "We will sell Milky-White and be richer than ever. It's an ill wind that blows no one good. So, as it is market-day, I'll just take her there and we shall see what we shall see."
"But—" began his mother.
"But doesn't butter parsnips," laughed Jack. "Trust me to make a good bargain."
So, as it was washing-day, and her sick husband was more ailing than usual, his mother let Jack set off to sell the cow.
"Not less than ten pounds," she bawled after him as he turned the corner.
Ten pounds, indeed! Jack had made up his mind to twenty! Twenty solid golden sovereigns!