"What shall I do with them! However get out of this mess! I know no more about the good points of a horse or a cow than a babe unborn, and your mother who does--or should, for she's a farmer's daughter--has ignominiously fled!"

Seeing the pair in apparent consultation, the visiting owners of the various animals held their momentary peace, till Dorothy answered quite seriously:

"Well, whether you do or do not know which is good and which is bad, you did advertise for them, you know, and you ought to take one of each kind, I s'pose. That is--have you got the money ready, to pay right now?"

"Oh, yes! The money's all right. Martha has that in her cupboard."

"Well, then, let's try it this way. Ask her to come out again; then let's begin with the pigs. They act the meanest of all the creatures and I hate them! _Must_ we have a pig, father John?"

"So your mother says. To eat up the milk!"

"Then I do think she ought to select it. I'll go and ask her, myself.

Let everybody bring up his pig, one after another, like standing in line at the post-office, you know; and let mother look them all over and choose the one she wants. When we get through the pigs the rest of the pig-men will go away, and the cow-men show us their cows. Oh! it would be just jolly to do it that way! Mother buy the pig, you the horse, and I the cow! I'll go and see if she will."

Either Dorothy's arguments were convincing or Mrs. Chester had repented her retreat, thus leaving her more inexperienced husband to the mercy of possibly unscrupulous traders, for she promptly reappeared in the dooryard and announced:

"We will buy just what we advertised for: one cow, one horse, one pig.

We will examine the pigs first, and in order, with lowest price stated at once. We will not d.i.c.ker at all, but will buy as cheaply as we can.

Now, begin."

The little woman had placed herself upon the doorstep, with an air of practical business which caused her husband to silently clap his hands and as silently applaud; nodding his head and saying, by his expression:

"Good enough, madam! Couldn't have done better if you'd been in continual practice!"

The only difficulty of the proceeding was that each "pig-man" had grown weary of waiting and now crowded to the fore, intent upon selling _his_ pig before another had a chance. Result: seven specimens of swine, in varying degrees of fatness, were forced into the inclosure; where each immediately proceeded to entangle himself with his neighbor and to run in a direction diametrically opposed to his owner's will.

"Oh! how glad I am our flower beds haven't been made yet!" cried Dorothy, flying up the outside stairs of the cottage, where she felt quite safe, although one inquisitive porker did plant its fore-legs on the lower step, intent to follow. Thence it was jerked back by its owner, with the remark:

"Drat a hog, anyhow! They're plaguyest critters to drive of any that lives. Next time I have a pig to sell I'll do it on my own premises--or not at all!"

In mercy to the animals and to their owners Mrs. Chester made a quick selection and one that others, wiser than herself, knew to be a fortunate one. Her choice fell upon a half-grown creature, whose body had received a good scrubbing before being taken to Skyrie, and whose skin looked pink and clean beneath its white bristles. She was asked a larger price than was quite just, as all the other dealers knew, but as all likewise considered "city folks" legitimate prey n.o.body enlightened her, and she handed out the money at once; merely requesting its late owner to take the animal to the corner of the old barn and securely fasten it there.

Then there followed what father John remarked was "quite a lull in the hog market," and Dorothy begged:

"Let's buy the cow next! There's a lovely one yonder! A soft, fat, ecru-colored one, with the cutest little calf tied to it! Oh! do let's have the calf any way even if we don't the cow. It's a perfectly adorable little thing! see how it c.o.c.ks its head and kicks up its heels--the sweet!"

The swine and their owners having departed the dooryard was comparatively clear; and it was noticeable that n.o.body crowded forward when, at a nod from Mr. Chester, the proprietor of the "ecru-colored"

cow and "adorable calf" led them up for closer inspection.

They certainly were attractive specimens of their race, and the Quaker miller who offered them had a most benignant countenance. He seemed to possess the respect and confidence of his neighbors and his words had the ring of truthfulness as he stated:

"Thee will go much further and fare much worse before thee has a cow like Hannah offered thee, friend Martha. She is of good pedigree, as I can show thee if thee will step over to my mill and look at my ledger.

Her yield is ten quarts at a milking, twice a day, and her price is fifty dollars."

Martha Chester caught her breath. She had not antic.i.p.ated paying more than half that sum for "just a cow"; even the price of the pig had startled her, remembering the small amount of cash she had in her purse.

But alas! The demon of possession had seized her! The fact that the porcine "beauty" already tied to her barn was her own roused all her old farm-born instinct for "stock," and though she hesitated she did not say "No." Besides, her own half-forgotten grandsire had been a Friend and this man's speech carried her back to childhood's days and a roomy farmhouse, with its rich abundance of good things. Was ever a Quaker really poor?

Now n.o.body, in his senses, could have compared honest Oliver Sands to a tempter; yet his very next words proved temptation to John and Martha Chester, whose Christian names he had somehow acquired and now used so naturally.

"If thee buys Hannah thee will not regret it. Moreover, because I have heard the surprising tale of the little maid yonder, I will bind the bargain by giving her the calf, free of charge. I do not like to separate mother and child, even among brute creatures, unless from necessity; and, Dorothy Chester, thee may have my calf."

Of the astonishment of her parents and Dorothy's wild, almost incredulous delight, there is no need to tell. It can be easily surmised. Sufficient to state that very shortly afterward the broad-brimmed hat of Oliver Sands was disappearing down the road, while Hannah and her offspring had joined the squealing pig beside the barn.

CHAPTER X

AT MILKING-TIME

As if by mutual consent the owners of the rejected cattle slowly departed. They had awaited the outcome of the Sands-Chester transaction rather from curiosity than any doubt as to the result.

Oliver Sands was an upright Friend. He was, also, locally known as a "slick trader." What he set out to do he generally did. Moreover, though he dwelt in a plainly furnished farmhouse, his farm comprised the richest acres of the table-land crowning the mountain, and his flocks and herds were the largest in the county. His flour mill did a thriving business. Some said that its thrift was due, in part, to the amount of toll extracted from his neighbors' grists; but this, of course, was a heresy unproved. Nor did many of even these disgruntled folk grumble openly. They dared not. Oliver "held them in his hand," as the saying went, having mortgages upon almost all the smaller farms adjacent to his own--intent upon sometime adding them to his, at that dreaded day when he should see fit to "foreclose."

With the miller's departure from the scene the horse-owners had their chance, and took it promptly; but the prices asked for the several steeds which were now "put through their paces" were far and away beyond the balance left in the Chesters' power to pay. Therefore, short work was made of this part of the memorable sale and the grounds were rapidly deserted of nearly all.

Bill Barry lingered to the last, and finding himself still unsuccessful, relieved his disappointment by a parting fling:

"Well, neighbor, after all I dunno as you will _need_ a hoss--ary kind of one, seein's you've got Hannah! That creatur's a repytation for speed 'at puts my sorrel here out of the runnin'. Lively, Hannah is, an' no mistake. Old Olly's head's leveler than this mountain-side, even if his mouth is mealier 'n his own flour bags. Well, good-day. If you shouldn't get suited, lemme know. I'll drive right up."

The silence that fell upon Skyrie then seemed intense, but most delightful; and for a few moments all its household felt the need of rest. They sat without speaking, for a time, till a low from the barnyard reminded them that their "family" had increased and might need attention. Who was to give it?

With a smile, half of vexation, mother Martha suddenly exclaimed:

"We've begun at the wrong end of things! 'Put the cart before the horse.' We needed a pig, a cow, a horse, and a man. Well, the man should have been our first to secure. Then he could have looked after the other things. Oh! hum! What a day this has been!"

"Yes. Country life _does_ seem to be rather exciting," agreed Mr.

Chester, idly poking the end of his crutch among the weeds along the wide stone where his chair had been placed. "A lawsuit, a stock-sale, and an introduction to 'Society'--all in one morning."

"But we didn't get the horse!" said Dorothy C., who liked matters to be completely finished, once they had been undertaken; and whose fancy had been unduly stirred by the sight of Bucephalus. She had then and there decided that she, too, would become a finished equestrian as soon as possible; though she had seen none among the horses just exhibited that compared with Herbert's mount.

"The horse can wait," returned Mrs. Chester, in a tone of relief. "Yet, for your sake, John, it should have been our first purchase."

"After that necessary 'man,' my dear!"

But Mrs. Chester was in no mood for joking. The reaction from excitement had set in, and she let her husband's jest fall to the ground where it belonged. If only that unfortunate advertis.e.m.e.nt had done the same! They would not then have been so annoyed by an overflow of traders nor been rendered the laughing-stock of the community. Besides it was now past noon and dinner must be prepared; so she rose to go indoors, suggesting to Dorothy:

"It might be well to see if Hannah and the calf need water. You can take that old pail I use to scrub from and carry them a drink. Take but a half-pailful at a time. You're too young to lift heavy things, yet."

"All right: but, mother, that generous old man didn't say what the calf's name was. And isn't Hannah the oddest for--a cow? Real Quakerish it sounds to me. What shall you name your dear little pig? May I call my darling calf Jewel? Just to think! I never, never dreamed I should have a real live little calf for my very, very own!"

"May your Jewel prove a diamond of the first water!" cried father John, always sympathetic.

But mother Martha was carefully counting the contents of her depleted pocket-book and her tone was rather sharp as she answered:

"It's a poor pig that can't live without a name: and--I'm afraid that old Quaker gentleman was not--was not quite so generous as he seemed. A calf requires milk. A calf that 'runs with its mother' generally gets it; and----" She paused so long that her husband added: