Christie gave a sigh, and smiled.
“Come,” said Effie; “I’ll help you. I was waiting till you came from the pasture. I didna see you come.”
“No; I didna go in.”
It seemed to Christie that a very heavy burden had been lifted from her heart. She smiled without the sigh, as soon as she met her sister’s grave look.
“Did you walk home, Effie?” she asked.
“No; I got a chance to ride with the book-man. He was at the corner, and offered to bring me home, as he was coming this way. How beautiful your pans look, Christie! Will you need them all?”
They were in the milk-house now. It was a large, low place, partly made by digging into the side of the hill. It was a cool, pleasant place in summer, and well suited to the purpose for which it had been built. It was dark, however, when the girls entered, and would have been very gloomy but for Christie’s shining milk-pans and the rows of cream-covered dishes beyond.
They were all needed, and some new ones had just been brought from the tinman’s. “I like them,” said Christie: “they’re lighter than the earthen ones, and no’ so easily broken. We’ve got much more milk since the cows went into the upper field. You’ll see what a pailful Fleckie gives.”
“Fleckie is your favourite yet,” said Effie, smiling, as they left the dairy together.
“Oh, yes! she’s the best of them all—and so gentle! and I’m sure she knows me. I don’t think she likes any one to milk her half so well as me.”