“And my little mistress went along a short passage—brown it was, walls, and floor, and all, even the beams overhead—to the milk-room; and that was brown, too, and as sweet as a rose.
“‘Mother, why did you put on the tea-kettle?’
“‘’Cause I wanted to have some tea, dear.’
“‘But I would have done it.’
“‘Yes, honey, I know. You’ve quite enough to do.’
“‘Look here what I’ve found, mother.’
“‘Can’t look at anything, daughter. Go along and milk and I will hear you at tea-time.’
“Then my little mistress took up the pails, and went out by another way, through another gate that opened directly into the cows’ yard; and there she stripped the yellow sweet milk into the pails, from every one of the five cows she had driven home. Not one of them but loved to be milked by her hand; they enjoyed it, every cow of them; standing quiet and sleepily munching the cud, except when now and then one of them would throw back her head furiously at some fly on her side; and then my mistress’s soft voice would say,—
“‘So, Beauty!’