Bradley sprang over the fence and ran to her assistance.
“Le’ me git a hold o’ the little scamp,” he said, and the next instant he had the sleek little animal up in his strong arms. “Whar do you want ‘im put?” he asked, drily, turning to her.
“Outside the lot,” she gasped, so astonished that she could hardly utter a word.
He carried his struggling burden to the fence and dropped it over, and fastened up the bars to keep it out.
“Well, ef that don’t beat all!” she laughed, in great relief, when he turned back to her. “I am very much obleeged. I ‘lowed at fust you was one o’ the field hands.” He looked into her wrinkled face closely, but saw no sign of recognition there. She put the corner of her little breakfast-shawl to her poor wrinkled mouth and broke out into a low, childlike laugh. “I cayn’t help from being amused at the way you tuk up that calf; I don’t know” (and the smile left her face) “what I’d ‘a’ done ef you hadn’t ‘a’ come along. I never could ‘a’ turned it out, an’ Alf’s wife never kin be pacified when sech a thing happens. We don’t git enough milk, anyway.”
“Le’ me finish milkin’,” he said, keeping his face half averted.
She laughed again. “Yo’ ‘re a-jokin’ now; I never seed a man milk a cow.”
“I never did nuther tel I went out West,” he replied. “The Yankees out thar showed me how. I’m a old bach’, an’ used to keep a cow o’ my own, an’ thar wasn’t nobody but me to tend ‘er.”
She stood by his side and laughed like a child amused with a new toy when he took her place at the cow, and with the pail between his knees and using both hands, began to milk rapidly.
“I never seed the like,” he heard her muttering over and over to herself. Then he rose and showed her the pail nearly filled. “I reckon that calf ‘u’d have a surprise-party ef he was to try on his suckin’ business now,” he said. “It serves ’im right fer bein’ so rampacious.”