ere book
larnin'. But jes' de same, dat air Guernsey am drunk."

We all looked at her with interest.

"But what will she do?" I said. "How does being drunk affect a cow?"

"Jes' same as er man, Miss Faith, honey. Jes' look at her! She used
to be de shyest, mos' ladylake cow awn de place. She always seemed to
'member dat she'd had a calf en was a lady ob quality. Now look at
her! She don' keer! She'd jes' as soon lean her head on de Boss's
shoulder en ax him fer a drink er de loan ob his cee-gyar. She's done
forgot dat she's a mudder. She feels lake she don' know which is de
odder side ob de street en she don' want to be tol'! Dat's what drink
does for man or beas'."

"But will it hurt her milk?" I said, soberly, for the rest were
screaming at the imbecile expression of the Guernsey while Amos thus
diagnosed her case.

"No'm, no'm. Leastways hit won't hurt huh none. It'll dry her up,
dough. Such a jag as dat Guernsey's got will dry up her milk for two
weeks er mo'. En I wouldn't keer to be de one ter milk huh, neider!"

Here was Jimmie's opportunity.

"Nonsense!" he said. "I'll milk her! I'm not afraid of what a drunken
cow will do. Let me know, Amos, when you want her milked."

"All right, Mistah Jimmie. I sho will let you know, yas, sir. Now
den, Missus fool cow! Ef you can leab off chattin' wid de quality long
enough to go teh yo' stall, I'll show you de way."

I repeat--the Guernsey used to be our best-behaved, most intelligent
and ladylike cow, but when Amos endeavoured to lead her away, she
calmly sank down just where she was, and went to sleep.

This was too much for Amos. Fun was fun, to be sure, and he seemed
glad we were pleased by the Guernsey's antics, but his wrath at a cow's
taking the tennis-court for her afternoon nap upset his ideas of
propriety.

"Doesn't she remind you for all the world," cried Jimmie, with tears in
his eyes, "of a man who sinks to sleep with his arm affectionately
around a lamp-post? Her feet are in an attitude that a painter would
call 'one of unstudied grace!'"

But Amos, in a fury, pushed, pulled, slapped, and shoved her into a
sitting posture, and, by dint of leaning upon each other as if both
were under the weather, he finally got her started toward the barn,
she, every once in awhile, pausing to lift a fore foot hilariously
before planting it on her next uncertain step.

Several hours later I saw Jimmie, with a shining new milk-pail on his