he should see it.

"Anne, for mercy's sake, stop," panted poor Diana. "I'm right out of
breath and you are wet to the skin."

"I must . . . get . . . that cow . . . out . . . before . . . Mr.
Harrison . . . sees her," gasped Anne. "I don't . . . care . . . if I'm
. . . drowned . . . if we . . . can . . . only . . . do that."

But the Jersey cow appeared to see no good reason for being hustled out
of her luscious browsing ground. No sooner had the two breathless girls
got near her than she turned and bolted squarely for the opposite corner
of the field.

"Head her off," screamed Anne. "Run, Diana, run."

Diana did run. Anne tried to, and the wicked Jersey went around the
field as if she were possessed. Privately, Diana thought she was. It was
fully ten minutes before they headed her off and drove her through the
corner gap into the Cuthbert lane.

There is no denying that Anne was in anything but an angelic temper
at that precise moment. Nor did it soothe her in the least to behold a
buggy halted just outside the lane, wherein sat Mr. Shearer of Carmody
and his son, both of whom wore a broad smile.

"I guess you'd better have sold me that cow when I wanted to buy her
last week, Anne," chuckled Mr. Shearer.

"I'll sell her to you now, if you want her," said her flushed and