to them. Do you know how to tell a
sheep's age?"

"No, uncle."

"Here, open your mouth, Cosset," he said to the lamb that he still held.
"At one year they have two teeth in the centre of the jaw. They get two
teeth more every year up to five years. Then we say they have 'a full
mouth.' After that you can't tell their age exactly by the teeth. Now,
run back to your mother," and he let the lamb go.

"Do they always know their own mothers?" asked Miss Laura.

"Usually. Sometimes a ewe will not own her lamb. In that case we tie
them up in a separate stall till she recognizes it. Do you see that
sheep over there by the blueberry bushes--the one with the very pointed
ears?"

"Yes, uncle," said Miss Laura.

"That lamb by her side is not her own. Hers died and we took its fleece
and wrapped it around a twin lamb that we took from another ewe, and
gave to her. She soon adopted it. Now, come this way, and I'll show you
our movable feeding troughs."

He got up from the log, and Miss Laura followed him to the fence. "These
big troughs are for the sheep," sad Mr. Wood; "and those shallow ones in
the enclosure are for the lambs. See, there is just room enough for them
to get under the fence. You should see the small creatures rush to them
whenever we appear with their oats, and wheat, or bran, or whatever we
are going to give them. If they are going to the butcher, they get corn
meal and oil meal. Whatever it is, they eat it up clean. I don't believe
in cramming animals. I feed them as much as is good for them, and not
any more. Now, you go sit down over there behind those bushes with Joe,
and I'll attend to business."

Miss Laura found a shady place, and I curled myself up beside her. We
sat there a long time, but we did not get tired, for it was amusing to
watch the sheep and lambs. After a while, Mr. Wood came and sat down
beside us. He talked some more about sheep-raising; then he said,

"You may stay here longer if you like, but I must get down to the house.
The work must be done, if the weather is hot."

"What are you going to do now?" asked Miss Laura, jumping up.

"Oh! more sheep business. I've set out some young trees in the orchard,
and unless I get chicken wire around them, my sheep will be barking them
for me."

"I've seen them," said Miss Laura, "standing up on their hind legs and
nibbling at the trees, taking off every shoot they can reach."

"They don't hurt the old trees," said Mr. Wood; "but the youn