come and look at his cows. In the spring and summer he drove them out to
pasture, but during the winter they stood all the time in the dirty,
dark stable, where the chinks in the wall were so big that the snow
swept through almost in drifts. The ground was always muddy and wet;
there was only one small window on the north side, where the sun only
shone in for a short time in the afternoon.

They were very unhappy cows, but they stood patiently and never
complained, though sometimes I know they must have nearly frozen in the
bitter winds that blew through the stable on winter nights. They were
lean and poor, and were never in good health. Besides being cold they
were fed on very poor food.

Jenkins used to come home nearly every afternoon with a great tub in the
back of his cart that was full of what he called "peelings." It was
kitchen stuff that he asked the cooks at the different houses where he
delivered milk, to save for him. They threw rotten vegetables, fruit
parings, and scraps from the table into a tub, and gave them to him at
the end of a few days. A sour, nasty mess it always was, and not fit to
give any creature.

Sometimes, when he had not many "peelings," he would go to town and get
a load of decayed vegetables, that grocers were glad to have him take
off their hands.

This food, together with poor hay, made the cows give very poor milk,
and Jenkins used to put some white powder in it, to give it "body," as
he said.

Once a very sad thing happened about the milk, that no one knew about