LEARNING TO MILK
Dot ran off to the Apgar house as fast as her short legs would carry
her, to find Jud and ask him if he had taken their toys in out of the
rain. The other children followed Bobby along the brook.
"Because our feet are as wet as they can be, now," he said, "and if
Aunt Polly is going to scold, getting them wetter won't make her scold
any more."
"It looks like more rain," worried Meg, scanning the clouds. "Why
don't we go back, Bobby, and come out after dinner? If the raft
floated as far as the woods, the trees will keep it dry."
Bobby was very damp and very hungry, and he, too, thought that after
dinner would be a better time to hunt for the toys.
"Come on, Twaddles," he shouted. "We're going back."
Twaddles was some distance ahead, and he turned so quickly that one
foot slipped. Meg and Bobby saw him tumble into the brook with a loud
splash.
It wasn't very deep, but it was very wet, and though Bobby reached him
in a second, poor Twaddles was frightened.
"I'm so co-old!" he wept loudly. "I want Mother!"
"Well, don't stand here all day," said Bobby practically. "Take hold
of Meg's hand, and we'll run to the house. Linda was making soup this
morning, Twaddles. Think how good nice, hot soup will taste!"
Meg took his hand, and, Bobby on the other side, Twaddles ran with all
his might toward dry clothes and hot soup. It was raining hard again.
"Why, children!" Aunt Polly met them at the door, for she had long ago
come back from taking Mother Blossom to town. "Has anything happened?
I found Dot in the hammock crying for her doll and----But Twaddles is
dripping!"
"He fell in the brook," explained Bobby concisely.
"Poor lamb!" comforted Aunt Polly. "Come upstairs, dear, and Auntie
will see that you're rubbed dry. And Bobby and Meg, don't stand around
in those wet shoes one minute. Change them immediately."
Half an hour later four clean, dry little Blossoms were at the table
enjoying Linda's delicious soup and other good things. The day had
turned to a cold, rainy, dismal one, very different from the promise
of the sunny summer morning. Aunt Polly said they would have to
manufacture their own sunshine that afternoon.
"You mustn't think of going to hunt for the toys till to-morrow, and
only then if it's clear," she announced firmly. "Likely as not the
raft sank, and you mustn't feel too bad about the toys. You'll find
plenty of other things to play with on the farm."
All that afternoon it poured, and all that afternoon the four little
Blossoms spent in Linda's kitchen cooking and pulling molasses candy.
They had the sweetiest, stickiest time you ever heard of, and when
about six o'clock the rain stopped and the sun came out pure yellow
gold, they had a plate of beautiful cream-colored candy to take to
Mrs. Peter Apgar.
"Who wants to help me milk?" asked Jud, passing the kitchen door as
they were talking to his mother.
"Oh, Jud, I do!" begged Meg. "You promised to show me how."
"We'll all come," said Bobby. "Aunt Polly isn't going to have supper
till seven o'clock to-night, 'cause the minister is coming. We've got
oceans of time."
"Dot looks dressed up to me," announced Jud. "Keep her out of the mud,
somebody."
"This is my prettiest dress," said Dot serenely, smoothing down the
folds of her white dotted swiss under her coral-colored sweater.
Mrs. Sally Sweet looked mildly interested when she saw such a number
of people coming into her comfortable barnyard, and when Jud drove her
into the barn and fastened her in the stanchion, all the children
stood around to watch.
When Jud had the pail nearly full of milk, he rose carefully.
"Now, Meg," he said, "you sit here. Easy now; don't be nervous. Don't
you know a cow won't give milk if she knows you're nervous? Now work
your fingers like this----"
Meg sat on the three-legged stool and tried to do exactly as Jud told
her. Bobby and Dot and Twaddles stared at her open-mouthed. She was
actually milking a live cow!
"Keep right on; that's fine," encouraged Jud. "You're doing first
rate."
His father called him just then, and he ran to the door to see what
was wanted. Meg, beaming, kept on milking. All would have been well if
Mrs. Sally Sweet hadn't remembered her calf, Buttercup, and opened her
mouth to give a tremendous and unexpected, "_Moo!_"
The four little Blossoms were sadly startled. Meg jumped up, upsetting
the pail of milk over herself and Bobby, who stood nearest, and
knocking down Twaddles and Dot who were close behind her. As luck
would have it, both twins pitched into a heap of soft hay and were
not hurt at all. But when they scrambled to their feet, alas! streams
of yellow, bright yellow, decorated Dot's sweater and dress and
splashed Twaddles' middy blouse.
"For goodness' sake!" cried Jud, coming back in time to view this
wholesale damage. "What have you been up to now?"
Meg explained.
"There must have been eggs in that hay," said Twaddles disapprovingly.
"Some hen stole her nest, and you've finished her hopes," sighed Jud.
"I must say you're a sweet looking mess. Wonder what Miss Polly will
say?"
"My! and the minister's coming to supper," announced Bobby,
remembering this for the first time.
"I thought you looked dressed up," Jud groaned. "I suppose I ought to
have paid more attention. Well, come on, we'll go up the back way and
I'll tell Miss Polly most of it was my fault."
The four little Blossoms, eggy and milky, followed Jud up to the
house. He meant to take them in through the kitchen in case the
minister should be on the front porch and so spare Aunt Polly's
company the sight of such a forlorn procession. But, just as they
rounded the back of the house, they met Aunt Polly showing the
minister and his wife her kitchen garden.
"Twaddles!" gasped poor Aunt Polly, for Twaddles was ahead.
"We--we--we were learning to milk," said Meg apologetically.
The minister and his wife took one look at the four, and then they sat
down on the back doorstep and laughed and laughed. After a minute Aunt
Polly joined them, and then the children and Jud began to giggle.
"Hurry and get into something clean," commanded Aunt Polly, wiping her
eyes. "Linda is just putting supper on the table. I don't care what
you put on, as long as it is clean. I spent an hour dressing you, and
now see the result."
The four little Blossoms made haste to scurry into clean suits and
dresses, and in a short time were ready to come downstairs and meet
the minister and his wife properly.
"To-morrow morning," said Bobby, as Aunt Polly put out the light and
kissed them good-night, "we must go and hunt for the raft."
But in the morning Peter Apgar rattled up to the door while they were
still at the breakfast table, with Jerry and Terry harnessed to an
empty wagon.
"Anybody here want to go over to the mill with me?" he called loudly.
Of course the four children were wild to go, and Aunt Polly said that
she was sure Peter had room for every one.
"Take good care of them, Peter," she said, following them down to the
gate.
"I will," promised Peter. "I've got an old quilt spread down in the
bottom for them to sit on. If the jolting tires 'em two can sit up
with me, taking turns."
Spotty wagged his tail as they drove off, but he would not follow the
wagon. He knew it was his place to stay and take care of Aunt Polly.
The mill was about four miles from Brookside, and the children enjoyed
the drive intensely. Good-natured Peter allowed each one to "drive,"
holding the reins carefully as he told them, "Because," said Peter
seriously, "even if you're only learning, you might as well begin
right."
When they reached the mill, Jerry and Terry were tied to a post and
Peter and the children went inside. Bobby was rather disappointed with
the outside of the mill; he had expected it to look like the mills he
saw in pictures, with great wide sails flattened against the sky.
"Electric power runs this mill," Peter explained when Bobby asked
where the sails were. "You'll find plenty to see inside."
A short, stout man in a dusty white coat met them, and Peter gave him
his order.
"I've some little folks from down the state a way with me," Peter told
the man. "Guess you can show 'em round the mill a bit this morning?"
"I should say so!" was the hearty answer. "Come along, everybody, and
we'll see just how grain is milled."
It was not a real flour mill. That is, not one of the great mills that
turn millions of bushels of wheat into flour; but it did grind
buckwheat for the farmers and made coarse flour and feed for their
stock, cracked corn for poultry and so on. The four little Blossoms
saw much to interest them, but the great round stones that ground the
grains and the arrangements for sifting the dust and chaff from the
grain interested them the most.
"It must be fun to be a miller!" said Bobby, when they were ready to
go and the noon whistle blew and the big stones stopped turning as the
power was shut off. "Maybe when I grow up I'll run a mill."
Rattling home in the big wagon with two sacks of "middlings" in the
back with them, Twaddles and Dot decided that they, too, would have a
mill some day.