a big chair for the Shepherd, and the great chest where the
clothes were kept, and besides all these things there was the wag-
at-the-wall clock on the mantel-shelf which had to be wound every
Saturday night. If you want to know just where these things
stood, you have only to look at the plan, where their places are
so plainly marked that, if you were suddenly to wake up in the
middle of the night and find yourself in the little gray house,
you could go about and put your hand on everything in it in the
dark.

Jock stayed with the cow as long as he dared, and went back to
the house only when he knew he couldn't postpone his tasks any
longer. Jean was sweeping the doorstep as he came slowly up the
hill.

"Come along, Grandfather," she called out, her brow sternly
puckered in front and her curls bobbing gaily up and down behind.
"A body'd think you were seventy-five years old and had the
rheumatism to see you move! Come and work the churn a bit. 'Twill
limber you up."

Jock knew that arguments were useless. His father had told him,
girl's work or not, he was to help Jean, so he slowly dragged
into the house and slowly began to move the dasher up and down.

"Havers!" said Jean, when she could stand it no longer. "It's
lucky there's a cover to the churn else you'd drop to sleep and
fall in and drown yourself in the buttermilk! The butter won't be
here at this rate till to-morrow, when it would break the Sabbath
by coming!"