“’Tisn’t a bit like butter!” she said, disappointedly.
“It will be when it is salted,” her mother told her.
When Rose grew tired Russ took a turn, and so did Laddie and Violet, and soon the dasher was so heavy that none of the children could lift it.
“I guess the butter has come,” said Farmer Joel. “Yes, there it is. Look!” he added as he took off the cover, and the children saw big golden yellow lumps floating about in what was now white buttermilk, for all the cream had been changed into butter.
“How are you going to get it out?” asked Rose.
“I’ll show you,” answered Farmer Joel, who had often watched his sister do this work. He moved the flat dasher up and down, slowly turning it the while, and in a minute or two there was gathered on the top of the dasher all the floating lumps of butter.
These were lifted out and put in a wooden bowl and Norah “worked out” the buttermilk, leaving, finally, a firm, yellow lump of butter.
“There you are!” cried Farmer Joel. “When it is salted you may eat some on your bread for supper.”
And the six little Bunkers did, saying it was the best they had ever tasted. Daddy Bunker and his wife drank some of the buttermilk left in the churn after the butter was taken out. But when Russ tasted it he made a funny face and cried:
“Sour! Ugh! Sour!”