LEARNING TO MILK.
A low bench painted green and fastened against the trunk of the old oak,
that there might be no possibility of its being overturned, was the
place where Aunt Nancy told Jack she spent the pleasant summer evenings.
"Except where there are caterpillars around," she added, "and then I
carry the rocking-chair to the stone doorstep. If you could kill
caterpillars, Jack, you would be doing the greatest possible favor, for
they certainly make my life wretched at times, although I don't know why
a person should be afraid of anything God has made."
"Oh, I can kill 'em," Jack replied confidently. "Bring on your
caterpillars when you want 'em killed, an' I'll fix the job. There ain't
any trouble about that."
"But I don't want to bring them on," Aunt Nancy said, hesitatingly. "I
never like to touch the little crawling things, and you will have to do
that part of the work."
"I'll see to it," Jack replied, and believing she would be free in the
future from the pests which interfered with her twilight pleasures, Aunt
Nancy's face took on an expression of complete satisfaction.
"Now let's talk about yourself and the baby," she said. "You must not
attempt to walk to New York while this hot weather lasts, and it would
cost a power of money to go there on the cars."
"I know it," Jack replied with a sigh, "but so long as there isn't a
cent between us, I guess we'll have to foot it."
"I've been thinking why you shouldn't stay here a spell. You make
yourself so handy about the house that I sha'n't mind the extra trouble
with the baby, and there are times while the summer boarders are here
when I do need a boy very badly."
"That's just what I'd like," and Jack spoke emphatically. "If you'll let
us stay two or three weeks I'll pay my way in work, an' see that Louis
don't bother you."
"I believe that will be the best way out of it. The summer boarders are
to come in two or three weeks. Before then I'll write to my brother
Abner, in Binghamton, who'll be sure to know about Capt. Littlefield,
and perhaps he can make some arrangement for your passage."
"Where's Binghamton?" Jack asked in perplexity.
"Why, it's in York State. I ain't certain how near to the big city, but
of course it can't be very far away. Abner's a master hand at readin',
so if he don't happen to know Capt. Littlefield as a friend, he'd be
sure to have heard of him. When he was home here he was acquainted with
everybody for fifty miles around. He could tell you who each man
married, how many children they had, and kept the run of everything that
happened in the neighborhood. I used to say Abner minded other people's
business better than his own, and that _was_ his fault," she added with
a sigh. "But we all of us have our faults, and it's never right to speak
about those of another before we have fairly weighed our own. He's the
one, though, to find the baby's father, so you needn't have any further
trouble regarding it; but wait till we get a letter from him."
Jack was not as confident as Aunt Nancy appeared to be that this
"brother Abner" would know all the people in New York; but he was more
than content to remain where he was for a certain length of time in the
hope of being able to reach the city in some less laborious way than by
walking.
Then Aunt Nancy told him about herself, and of the farm which had
belonged to her father, but descended to her at his death, because Abner
was unwilling to spend his time on land so unproductive that the
severest labor failed to bring forth a remunerative crop.
"It isn't very good, I'll admit," she said reflectively; "but by taking
a few summer boarders I've been able to make both ends meet, and that's
all an old maid like me ought to expect."
"Have you always lived alone?"
"It's nigh on to twelve years since father died, and, excepting in the
summer, I've had neither child nor chick here. An old woman ain't
pleasant company at the best, and if Abner's daughters don't like to
visit their aunt, I can't say I blame them."
"Well I do!" Jack said decidedly. "I think you're the nicest old lady I
ever saw, and I'd be willin' to stay here all the time if I could."
Aunt Nancy was not accustomed to flattery; but it must be admitted, from
the expression on her wrinkled face, that it was far from unpleasant,
and by way of reward she patted Jack on the head almost affectionately.
"Perhaps you won't think so after a while," she said with a smile; and
then as Jack was about to make protestations, she added, "it's time to
go after the cow, and then I'll give you the first lesson in milking."
The farm was not so large that it required many moments to reach the
pasture, for the old lady had only to walk to the rear of the barn where
the crumple-horned cow was standing at the end of a narrow lane awaiting
her coming.
As the animal stepped carefully over the bars after they had been let
down, Jack could not help thinking she was just such a cow as one would
fancy should belong to Aunt Nancy.
She walked in a dainty manner, acting almost as if trying not to bring
any unnecessary amount of dirt into the barnyard, and behaving in every
way as one would say her mistress might under similar circumstances.
"While I go for the milking pail you pull some clover from under the
trees, for she always expects a lunch while being milked," Aunt Nancy
said; and in a few moments Jack had gathered such a feast as caused the
sedate animal to toss her head in disapprobation at the unusually large
amount she was expected to devour after having been cropping pasture
grass all day.
With a pail which had been scoured until it shone like silver, and a
tiny three-legged stool, white as the floor of her kitchen, the little
woman returned.
Then with many a "Co, Bossy! So, Bossy!" as if the quiet-looking animal
was expected to give way to the most violent demonstrations of wrath,
Aunt Nancy placed the stool in the most advantageous position, and said,
as she seated herself,--
"Now watch me a few minutes, and you'll see how easy it is after getting
the knack."
Jack gazed intently at every movement, his eyes opened wide with
astonishment as the streams of milk poured into the pail with a peculiar
"swish," and before the creamy foam had fully covered the bottom he was
quite positive it would be no difficult matter for him to perform the
same operation.
"I can do it now, if you'll get up."
Aunt Nancy vacated the stool without hesitation, for milking seemed such
a simple matter that there was no question in her mind but that it could
be learned in one very short lesson, and Jack sat down.
The cow looked around at this change of attendants, but was too
well-bred to express any great amount of surprise, and the hunchback
took hold of what appeared like so many fat fingers.
Fancying that strength alone was necessary, he pulled most vigorously.
Not a drop of milk came; but he accomplished something, for the animal
tossed her head impatiently.
Jack pulled harder the second time, and then, as Aunt Nancy screamed
loudly, the cow started at full speed for the other side of the yard,
facing about there at the boy whom she believed was tormenting her
wilfully, while she shook her head in a menacing manner.
Fortunately the milk-pail was not overturned; but in preventing such a
catastrophe, Jack rolled from the stool to the ground with no gentle
force, terrified quite as much by Aunt Nancy's screams as by the sudden
movement of old crumple-horn.
"Why, what's the matter?" he asked, as he scrambled to his feet, looking
first at his hostess, and then at the frightened animal.
"I ought to have known a boy couldn't milk," Aunt Nancy said impatiently
and almost angrily. "It seems as if they have a faculty of hurting dumb
beasts."
"But I didn't mean to," Jack said apologetically. "I worked just as you
did, and pulled a good deal harder, but yet the milk wouldn't come."
Aunt Nancy made no reply.
Taking up the pail and stool she walked across the yard, trying to
soothe the cow in the peculiar language she had used when beginning the
task; and Jack, understanding that he had hurt the feelings of both his
hostess and her pet, followed contritely, as he said coaxingly,--
"Please let me try it once more. I am certain I can do it if you'll give
me another chance."
It was not until Aunt Nancy had led the cow back to the pile of clover,
and there stroked her head and ears until she was ready to resume the
rudely interrupted feast, that any attention was paid to Jack's
entreaties.
"I'll show you once more," she finally said, "and you must watch to see
exactly how I move my fingers. It isn't the pulling that brings the
milk, but the pressure of the hand."
This time Jack paid strict attention, and in a few moments began to
fancy he had discovered what Aunt Nancy called the "knack."
But she would not relinquish her seat.
"Take hold with one hand while I stay here, and be careful not to hurt
the poor creature."
Very tenderly Jack made the second attempt, and was so successful as to
extract at least a dozen drops from the well-filled udder.
This was sufficient, however, to show him what should be done, even
though he was at first unable to perform the task, and, thanks to Aunt
Nancy's patience, and the gentleness of the animal, before the milking
was brought to a close, he had so far mastered the lesson as to win from
his teacher a limited amount of praise.
"I don't know as I should expect you to learn at once," she said; "but
you are getting along so well that by to-morrow night I wouldn't be
surprised if you could do it alone. Now I'll go and strain the milk, and
you may split me a little kindling wood if you will. Somehow I have
never been able to use an axe without danger of cutting my feet, and
it's almost like tempting Providence to take one in my hands."
Jack did as he was bidden, and although the axe was decidedly rusty and
very blunt, to say nothing of its being shaky in the helve, before she
finished taking care of the milk he had such a pile of kindlings as
would have cost her a week's labor to prepare.
"Well!" the little woman said as she came from the cool cellar and
surveyed the fruits of his industry, "if you can't do anything else on
a farm but that, it'll be a wonderful relief to me. An axe is such a
dangerous instrument that I always tremble when I touch one."
Jack looked at the ancient tool (which could hardly have inflicted any
injury unless one chanced to drop it on his toes) with a smile, but said
nothing, and after Aunt Nancy had shown him how to fasten the woodshed
door with a huge latch that any burglar over four feet tall could have
raised, she led the way into the house.
The milking pail was to be washed, a solitary moth which had found its
way into the kitchen was to be killed lest he should do some damage to
the rag carpet, and Aunt Nancy lighted a candle with a solemn air.
"This is the last work of the day," she said, "and perhaps I attach too
much importance to it, but I never allow myself to go to bed without
making sure there's no one hidden in the house. We'll examine the upper
part first, and after that has been done I will show you a chamber which
you can have until the summer boarders come. Then we must make different
arrangements, for the house is so small that I'm terribly put to it for
room."
Jack followed the little woman up the back stairs, and each of the four
apartments was subjected to the most rigid scrutiny, the boy holding the
candle while Aunt Nancy not only peered under the beds and behind the
bureaus, but even opened the tiniest closets in search of a supposed
intruder.
"We are safe for another day," she said with a long-drawn sigh of
relief, "and after looking through the fore-room once more I'll lock the
doors."
There was such an air of responsibility about the little woman that
Jack, not fully understanding what she expected to find, immediately
conceived the idea that peaceful though this portion of the country
appeared, it must be a very dangerous neighborhood, for his hostess
could not have taken more precautions had it been known positively that
a band of Indians were lurking in the vicinity.
Nothing more alarming than the moth was found, however, and after the
window fastenings had been carefully examined, Aunt Nancy led the way
back to the kitchen, where she once more surprised her guest by taking
down the well-worn Bible.
In a thin, quavering voice she read therefrom a certain number of
verses in which she seemed to find the greatest satisfaction, and then
replaced the book reverentially on the stand appropriated to its
keeping.
Then, to Jack's further surprise, she knelt by the side of the chair and
began a simple but heartfelt prayer, while the boy nestled around
uneasily, not certain whether it was proper for him to stand up, or
follow her example, therefore he remained where he was.
When the evening devotions had been brought to a close, he felt
decidedly uncomfortable in mind, but did not think it advisable to
expose his ignorance by asking the little woman what he should have
done.
"Now we'll go to bed," Aunt Nancy said as she arose to her feet with
such a look of faith on her wrinkled face as reminded the boy of
pictures he had seen.
Without a word he followed her upstairs to a small room directly over
the kitchen, which, however contracted it might seem to others, was
twice as large as he needed when compared with his quarters on board the
"Atlanta."
Then, as if her aim was to astonish and bewilder him on this first
evening, Aunt Nancy kissed him on both cheeks as she said "Good night,"
and left him to his own reflections.