solicitation of Pomona, and he was becoming somewhat reconciled to
his life with us. He allowed me to unchain him at night and I
could generally chain him up in the morning without trouble if I
had a good big plate of food with which to tempt him into the shed.

Before supper we all went down to the barn to see the milking.
Pomona, who knew all about such things, having been on a farm in
her first youth, was to be the milkmaid. But when she began
operations, she did no more than begin. Milk as industriously as
she might, she got no milk.

"This is a queer cow," said Pomona.

"Are you sure that you know how to milk?" asked Euphemia anxiously.

"Can I milk?" said Pomona. "Why, of course, ma'am. I've seen 'em
milk hundreds of times."

"But you never milked, yourself?" I remarked.

"No, sir, but I know just how it's done."

That might be, but she couldn't do it, and at last we had to give
up the matter in despair, and leave the poor cow until morning,
when Pomona was to go for a man who occasionally worked on the
place, and engage him to come and milk for us.

That night as we were going to bed I looked out of the window at
the barn which contained the cow, and was astonished to see that
there was a light inside of the building.