he
O'Neils--they belonged to our church--and the Scrantons, and Billy
Howard and his sister, driving fast as usual; they were always late.
Quarter-past ten! Well, we might as well give up church. I thought of
unharnessing, but I was very comfortable where I was, and Kit seemed
contented as she stood looking out of the door. Hark! What was that? It
sounded like the beat of hoofs in the lane--the cattle wouldn't come up
at this hour! I stood up to see past the inner barnyard and off down the
lane. "What on earth!" I said to myself. For--yes--surely--that was the
two-year-old Devon coming leisurely up the lane towards the yard. In a
few moments Jonathan's head appeared, then his shoulders, then his
entire dusty, discouraged self. Yes, somehow or other, they must have
made the round trip. As this dawned upon me, I smiled, then I laughed,
then I sat down and laughed again till I was weak and tearful. It was
cruel, and by the time Jonathan had reached the carriage-house and sunk
down on its threshold I had recovered enough to be sorry for him. But I
was unfortunate in my first remark. "Why, Jonathan," I gasped, "what
_have_ you been doing with that cow?"

Jonathan mopped his forehead. "Having iced tea under the trees.
Couldn't you see that to look at me?" he replied, almost savagely.

"You poor thing! I'll make you some when we go in. But do tell me, how
did you _ever_ get around here again from the back of the farm that
way?"

"Easy enough," said Jonathan. "I drove her along to the pasture in great
shape, only we were going a little fast. She tried to dodge the bars,
but I turned her in through them all right. But some idiot had left the
bars down at the other end of the pasture--between that and the back
lots, you know--and that blamed cow went for that opening, just as
straight--"

I began to shake again. "Oh, that brought you out by the huckleberry
knoll, and the ledges! Why, she could go anywhere!"

"She could, and she did," said Jonathan grimly. He leaned back against
the doorpost, immersed in bitter reminiscence. "She--certainly--did. I
chased her up the ledges and through the sumachs and down through the
birches and across the swamp. Oh, we did the farm, the whole blamed
farm. What time is it?"

"Half-past ten," I said gently; and added, "What are you going to do
with her now?"

His jaw set in a fashion I knew.

"I'm going to put her in that lower pasture."

I saw it was useless to protest. Church was a va