THE OLD MAN TELLING STORIES TO THE EAGLETS.
Now, all this time the cow had been getting more and more nervous. Every day she thought of the poor old man and his meek little legs and his sweet old smile, and just how his coat-tails looked as he went up; till at last she laid her head down on a tuft of grass by the brook, and cried—regularly boo-hooed.
Having thus relieved her feelings, she became calm, and, rising, said:
"I'll go to his house and find out how and where he is, if I can."
So off she started. But the house was shut up, and there was no one there except the cat.
Very much frightened the cat was, too, when the cow pushed up the pantry window with her horns, and bellowed:
"Where's your master?"
"I don't know," said the cat, retreating to a far corner, with his back up. "I haven't set eyes on him since last Sunday."
"Oh dear!" sighed the cow, dropping the window with a crash that broke out two of the panes of glass. "What shall I do?"
"What's the matter with you?—and what do you want of the old man?" asked Tabby, bounding out through one of the broken panes.