"I suppose I do." He gave his trousers a last flick, and, putting up his
handkerchief, shifted his stick to his right hand.

"Well, put her back in the inner yard," I said, "and this afternoon I'll
help you."

"Put her back!" said Jonathan. "Not much! You don't think I'd let a cow
beat me that way!"

"But Jonathan, it's half-past nine!"

"What of it? I'll just work her slowly--she's quiet now, you see, and
the bars are open. There won't be any trouble."

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't," I said. But, seeing he was firm, "Well, if
you _will_ go, I'll harness."

Jonathan looked at me ruefully. "That's too bad--you're all dressed." He
wavered, but I would take no concessions based on feminine equipment.
"Oh, that doesn't matter. I'll get my big apron. First you start her
out, and I'll keep her from going towards the house or down to the
mill."

Jonathan sidled cautiously through the gate and around the grazing cow.
Then, with a gentle and ingratiating "Hi there, Bossie!" he managed to
turn her, still grazing, towards the road. While the grass held out she
drifted along easily enough, but when she reached the dirt of the
roadway she raised her head, flicked her tail, and gave a little hop
with her hind quarters that seemed to me indicative of an unquiet
spirit. But I stood firm and Jonathan was gently urgent, and we managed
to start her on the right road once more. She was not, however, going as
slowly as Jonathan had planned, and it was with some misgivings that I
donned my apron and went in to harness Kit. I led her around to the
carriage-house and put her into the buggy, and still he had not
returned. I got out the lap robe, shook it, and folded it neatly on the
back of the seat. No Jonathan! There was nothing more for me to do, so I
took off my apron and climbed into the carriage to wait. The
carriage-house was as cool a place as one could have found. Both its big
sliding doors were pushed back, one opening out toward the front gate,
the other, opposite, opening into the inner barnyard. I sat and looked
out over the rolling, sunny country and felt the breeze, warm, but fresh
and sweet, and listened to the barn swallows in the barnyard behind me,
and wondered, as I have wondered a thousand times, why in New England
the outbuildings always have so much better views than the house.

Ten o'clock! Where _was_ Jonathan? The Morehouses drove past, then the
Elkinses; they went to the Baptist. Ten minutes past! There went t