“You needn’t do that,” said Whistler; “I can help you some about your work, and I’d rather do it than not. I can drive the cows home, and help weed the beds, and hoe the corn, and do lots of other things.”
“Well, you can help me some, if you want to,” replied Clinton. And the boys continued to lay their plans, and talk over matters of mutual interest, for an hour after they had got into bed, when sleep began to steal over their senses, and their pleasant schemes melted imperceptibly into airy dreams.
Early the next morning, before the sun was up, a rap on the chamber door aroused the boys, and was instantly obeyed; for it was the signal to arise, from Clinton’s mother. Having hastily dressed themselves, they proceeded to the barn-yard, where they found Mr. Davenport engaged in milking the cows. A vacant stool, an empty bucket, and a gentle-looking cow, were awaiting Clinton’s movements and without any delay he seated himself by the side of “Daisy,” and the milky stream began to flow. There were two other cows, “Princess” and “Nelly.” As Whistler could be of no service, he stood looking on, discussing the merits of the several cows with his uncle and cousin. He found that each of the animals had its own private character. Nelly was a red and white cow, with a gentle, motherly look. She evinced much attachment for Daisy, who, indeed, was her daughter, and resembled her in appearance and disposition. Daisy, however, was the tamest of the three, and a trifle handsomer than her mother. She would follow any of the family, and eat a turnip or an ear of corn out of their hands. Princess was dark-colored, and gave the most milk; but, as is apt to be the case with those bearing royal names, she was selfish, stubborn and mischievous. One curious thing about her was, that she always wanted to be milked first; and if the preference was given to one of the other cows, she showed her indignation very plainly. If any little attention was manifested towards the others, such as carding or stroking them, she would seem very jealous, and try to interrupt their enjoyment.
As the conversation was proceeding, Daisy showed some signs of uneasiness, upon which Mr. Preston said, in a pleasant tone:
“Mind your milking, Clinty, and postpone your stories until you get through. You haven’t learned yet to milk well and talk at the same time.”
Milking is an operation that ought to be done rapidly and without interruption, to be thoroughly and properly performed. Conversation is very apt to distract the attention of the milker, and thus interfere with his work, as it did in the case of Clinton.
The milking was soon completed, and the boys, as they drove the cows to pasture, talked as fast as they pleased. When they returned, breakfast was upon the table, and the morning air had so sharpened their appetites that they were prepared to do full justice to the ample meal.
“Now,” said Clinton, as they went out after breakfast, “work is the first thing in the order of the day. I must attend to the fowls, and then I have got to weed a piece of ground, and after that I shall be at your service.”
“I’ll help you do the weeding, and I’ll see you do the feeding,” said Whistler, laughing at his impromptu rhyme.
“Your kindness is exceeding,—come, let us be proceeding,” quickly replied Clinton, taking up the rhyme.