Sort
o' business relytionship more like--if you understand me?"
Something about this boy was worrying me. He did not seem like a
real farmer's boy. But then nothing seemed quite real this morning.
My feeling was to let things go.
"Whose cow is it?" I asked.
He stared at me.
"I want to know to whom it belongs," I said. "I want to restore it
to him."
"Excuse me," said the boy, "but where do you live?"
He was making me cross. "Where do I live?" I retorted. "Why, in
this cottage. You don't think I've got up early and come from a
distance to listen to this cow? Don't talk so much. Do you know
whose cow it is, or don't you?"
"It's your cow," said the boy.
It was my turn to stare.
"But I haven't got a cow," I told him.
"Yus you have," he persisted; "you've got that cow."
She had stopped bellowing for a moment. She was not the cow I felt I
could ever take a pride in. At some time or another, quite recently,
she must have sat down in some mud.
"How did I get her?" I demanded.
"The young lydy," explained the boy, "she came rahnd to our plice on
Tuesday--"
I began to see light. "An excitable young lady--talks very fast--
never waits for the answer?"
"With jolly fine eyes," added the boy approvingly.
"And she ordered a cow?"
"Didn't seem to 'ave strength enough to live another dy withaht it."
"Any stipulation made concerning the price of the cow?"
"Any what?"
"The young lady with the eyes--did she think to ask the price of the
cow?"
"No sordid details was entered into, so far as I could 'ear," replied
the boy.
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