"I'll attend to Drunkard myself," said the girl loftily. "Dad put him in my care. He said you two boys were too jerky in your little attentions to the dear soul. I'm not so undependable," and she tossed her black head. "You didn't attend to the cafeteria to-night; Big Chief. I'm going to tell on you."
The two boys turned on her. "Undependable," sneered Champ. "I don't believe there's any such word," while Big Chief shook an irritated fist at her. "Look here, Miss Cassowary—you've just got to stop bossing me. I'm going to speak to mother about it."
A pony hasn't any sleeve to laugh in, so I turned round and hid my smile in my mane. Children are the same the world over. Nothing made me feel as much at home as this bickering between these young Canadians. They were just like youthful undeveloped ponies, loving, teasing, rebelling, watching each other, and over them they knew was the wise whip hand of the parents. Well, I could tell them one thing if they asked my advice. If the parents didn't discipline them a bit, the bad old world would lick them into shape when they were full grown, which is a painful time to be educated.
Miss Cassowary was not too big to be naughty. She was in a corner about this accusation of bossing, so she stopped talking, and ran a saucy tongue out at her brothers, then turning to Dallas she said, "You don't know what they're talking about, Cousin. Come on and I'll introduce you to Drunkard."
With her I showed the discomfited boys two clean pairs of shoes, and ran round the corner of the big barn to the little barn where Mr. Talker was superintending the milking of the cows by patent milkers.
"Not so much noise, please," he said agreeably. "The cows can't hear the nightingale song."
To my amusement I saw that he was running a stable gramophone, which of course arrested my bright boy's attention.
He stood stock still and said to Cassowary, "Well—I never thought before that cows would enjoy music, but why shouldn't they?"
"They give more milk when they hear sweet strains," said Cassowary. "It started when the men used to milk and shout out things to each other. The cows didn't like it, so Dad had this gramophone installed to keep the stable quiet while milking was going on. He took it out when we bought the milkers, but the cows fussed so that he had to put it back. Now here is Drunkard."
In front of the cow stable was a kennel with a running chain for a dog.