The cow looked around at this change of attendants, but was too well-bred to express any great amount of surprise, and the hunchback took hold of what appeared like so many fat fingers.
Fancying that strength alone was necessary, he pulled most vigorously.
Not a drop of milk came; but he accomplished something, for the animal tossed her head impatiently.
Jack pulled harder the second time, and then, as Aunt Nancy screamed loudly, the cow started at full speed for the other side of the yard, facing about there at the boy whom she believed was tormenting her wilfully, while she shook her head in a menacing manner.
Fortunately the milk-pail was not overturned; but in preventing such a catastrophe, Jack rolled from the stool to the ground with no gentle force, terrified quite as much by Aunt Nancy's screams as by the sudden movement of old crumple-horn.
"Why, what's the matter?" he asked, as he scrambled to his feet, looking first at his hostess, and then at the frightened animal.
"I ought to have known a boy couldn't milk," Aunt Nancy said impatiently and almost angrily. "It seems as if they have a faculty of hurting dumb beasts."
"But I didn't mean to," Jack said apologetically. "I worked just as you did, and pulled a good deal harder, but yet the milk wouldn't come."
Aunt Nancy made no reply.
Taking up the pail and stool she walked across the yard, trying to soothe the cow in the peculiar language she had used when beginning the task; and Jack, understanding that he had hurt the feelings of both his hostess and her pet, followed contritely, as he said coaxingly,—