do the final hand
milking," he said. "I wonder if we'd better turn the cows out?" Before
Nancy could answer both children heard a sound. They held their breath.
Surely those were horses' feet! Cloppety clop clop clop cloppety clop
clop clop. Up to the barn door dashed the old farm horses. From the dark
outside the children heard their mother's voice, "Children, children,
are you there? The harness broke and I thought we'd _never_ get home."
Carrying a lantern apiece the children rushed out and into her arms.
"Here, Eben," called his father. "You take the horses quick. I must get
started milking right away. Those poor cows!" The children were too
excited to talk plainly. They both jabbered at once. Then each took a
hand of their father and led him into the great red barn. There by the
light of the lanterns Andrew Brewster could see the pails of warm white
milk and yellow cream. He stared at the quiet cows and at the Little
Sisters. Then he stared at Eben and Nancy. "Yes," cried both children
together. "We did it. We did it ourselves!"

THE SKY SCRAPER

The story tries to assemble into a related form many facts well-known
to seven-year-olds and to present the whole as a modern industrial
process.

[Illustration]

THE SKY SCRAPER

Once in an enormous city, men built an enormous building. Deep they
built it, deep into the ground; high they built it, high into the air.
Now that it is finished the men who walk about its feet forget how deep
into the ground it reaches. But they can never forget how high into the
blue it soars. Their necks ache when they throw back their heads to see
to the top. For, of all the buildings in the world, this sky scraper is
the highest.

The sky scraper stands in the heart of the great city. From its top one
can see the city, one can hear the city, one can smell the city--the
city where men live and work. One can see the crowded streets full of
tiny men and tiny automobiles, the riverside with its baby warehouses
and its baby docks, the river with its toy bridges and toy giant
steamers and tug boats and barges and ferries. The city noise,--the
distant, rumbling, grumbling noise,--sounds like the purring of a
far-away giant beast. And over it all lies the smell of gas and smoke.

The sky scraper stands in the heart of the great city. But from its top
in the blue, blue sky one can see all over the land. Landward the fields
s