"'Deed, then, an' Mrs. Shaw's pigs are a bonnie lot, I can tell ye, an' worth seein', Miss Blanche," said Peter.
They soon arrived at the sties, and although they were all that they should be—and no doubt the pigs were well-bred and well-conducted animals—Blanche did not take to them with much enthusiasm, except in the case of one perky little black-and-white fellow, who seemed to be the life and soul of the family party.
They next went to the poultry-yard, where there were many varieties of fowls, and one or two families of charming little yellow balls of chickens promenading the yard with their proud mothers.
It was getting near milking time, and the sleek, well-fed cows were sauntering one by one into the yard. They scarcely needed any driving: a man stood at the yard gate, whistling a long, peculiar note, and the animals knew what to do, though they never hurried themselves in the doing of it.
Blanche had never been quite so near to cows before, and it must be admitted that she felt a little frightened of them; their horns looked so very large and pointed, now that they were so close! Marjory, of course, was quite accustomed to them, and had no idea that they were a real terror to her town-bred friend.
One great beast, bearing the innocent name of Daisy, but with an immense pair of horns, and eyes that seemed to Blanche to be rolling with fury directed towards herself, came through the gate, and she instinctively went closer to Mrs. Shaw for protection. Quick as thought, the woman caught her hand and gently led her farther away.
"They won't hurt you," she whispered. "Daisy's as gentle as she can be. You must come again and make friends with her."
Blanche gave Mrs. Shaw a grateful look, and squeezed the hand that held hers. The pressure was returned, and any one who had happened to look at Mrs. Shaw at that moment would have seen a suspicious moisture in the black eyes and a little quiver on the set lips; for Mrs. Shaw had a heart, and Blanche had somehow found her way into it.
A dairymaid came to ask if the young ladies would be waiting for a drink of the new milk. Marjory said, "Yes, please," at once. She liked the new milk, frothy and warm. But Blanche said quickly,—
"Oh no, thank you; I would really rather not. You're very kind, but I'm sure I shouldn't like it."