“She’ll let me milk her to-night, though,” said Effie, removing her cuffs and turning up her sleeves.
“You’ll spoil your pretty frock,” said Christie, doubtfully.
“There’s no fear. I’ll take care. Give me the stool.”
Christie hesitated.
“But there’s Blackie and Brownie to do yet—unless you would rather milk Fleckie.”
“I would rather milk them all,” said Effie. “I’m sure, child, you look as though you had had enough of it for one day.”
“Oh, no; I expected to milk them all. I’m not very tired.”
Christie ran for another stool, and seated herself beside her favourite. She was quite near her sister, too; and they went on talking.
“I suppose this was churning-day?” said Effie.
“No; we churned yesterday, and we’ll churn again to-morrow. It’s harder, and takes longer, now that the nights have got cooler. But the butter is beautiful. We have the two tubs full, and we put the last we made in a jar. I’ll show it to you when we go in.”