“Let’s do it, Nyoda,” begged all the Winnebagos, and into the machine they piled.  When they were still far in the distance they could see the high towers of the barns rising in the air.  “We’re nearly there,” said Mrs. Evans; “here is the beginning to the cement fence that runs all the way around the four-thousand-acre farm.”  Mrs. Evans knew some of the people in charge of the farm and they had no difficulty gaining admittance.  That visit to the Carter Farm was a long-remembered one.  The girls walked through the long stables exclaiming at everything they saw.

“Why, there’s an electric fan in each stall!” gasped Migwan, “and the windows are screened!”

“Oo, look at the darling calf,” gurgled Hinpoha, on her knees before one of the stalls, caressing a ten-thousand-dollar baby.

“It doesn’t look a bit like its mother,” observed Nyoda, comparing it with the cow standing beside it.

“That isn’t its mother, that’s its nurse,” said the man who was showing them around.

“Its what?” said Nyoda.  Then the man explained that the milk from the blooded cows was too valuable to be fed to calves, as it commanded a high price on the market, and so a herd of common cows were kept to feed the aristocratic babies.  The lovely little creatures were as tame as kittens and allowed the girls to fondle them to their hearts’ content.  Sometimes a pair of polished horns would come poking between a calf and the visitors, and a soft-eyed cow would view the proceedings with a comically anxious face, and then it was easy to tell which calf was with its mother.

In one of the largest stalls they saw the champion Guernsey of the world.  Her coat was like satin and her horns were polished until they shone.  She did not seem to be in the least set up on account of her great reputation and thrust out her nose in the friendliest manner possible to be patted and fussed over.  She eyed Gladys, who stood next to her, with amiable curiosity, and then suddenly licked her face.  Mrs. Evans watched Gladys in surprise.  Instead of quivering all over with disgust as she would have a year ago she simply laughed and patted the cow’s nose.  “What is going to happen?” said Mrs. Evans to herself, “Gladys isn’t afraid of cows any more!” But the most interesting part came when the cows were milked.  They were driven into another barn for this performance and their heads fastened into sort of metal hoops suspended from the ceiling.  These turned in either direction and caused them no discomfort, but kept them standing in one place.  The milking was done with vacuum-suction machines run by electricity and took only a short time.