her through the little window.  The minister quoted ‘Wild bulls o’ Bashan’ ‘n’ ’Muzzle not the ox ‘t treadeth out the corn,’ ‘n’ I felt like askin’ him ’f he didn’t know a cow when he see one.  She looked cross enough for any Bible talk, though, ‘n’ Rachel Rebecca was awful scared ‘n’ they all begin to cry.  I took ’em into my kitchen ‘n’ give ’em a cooky apiece, ‘n’ that smoothed ’em out.  The minister was real pleased; he quoted ‘Even as ye did it unto the least o’ these, ye did it unto me,’ so I took the hint ‘n’ give him a cooky too.  They was goin’ up to Mrs. Brown’s to tea.  I must say she ‘s pretty good to have six o’ ’em all to once.”

Mrs. Lathrop twisted wearily.

“C’n you feel your leg?” her friend asked anxiously.

“Yes, I c’n feel—­”

“Mrs. Macy was up this afternoon.  She says she ’s more ‘n’ more worried over you.  She says it is n’t as she don’t wish young Dr. Brown well, ‘n’ she ‘s intendin’ to call him in sometime herself when she knows jus’ what ’s the matter with her ‘n’ jus’ what she ’d ought to take for it, but she says ’t in your circumstances there ain’t a mite o’ doubt but what you ’d ought to have old Dr. Carter ’s fast ’s he could be raked over here from Meadville.  She says legs is scarce birds, ‘n’ you can’t go lavishin’ one on every young man ’s is anxious to build up a practice on you.  She says how do you know ’s it ’s a clean break ’s you’ve got there anyhow?  Maybe it ’s a fracture.  A fracture ’s when the bone splinters all to pieces ‘n’ fans out every way inside o’ your leg.  O’ course young Dr. Brown ain’t got beyond clean breaks yet, ‘n’ if you’re splintered in place o’ bein’ clean you don’t want him to learn the difference at your cost.  If you lose your leg, Mrs. Lathrop, it certainly will be a awful thing for you.  A woman can’t ever say ’s she was a brakeman or in the war, ‘n’ them ’s the only good excuses ’s can be give.  Then, too, if you have a wooden leg ‘n’ the wind catches you at it, it’ll take you in a way ’s ’ll make you look more like a scarecrow ’n a Christian.  Mrs. Macy says ’t she was speakin’ to Mr. Kimball about you, ‘n’ he was nigh to serious f’r once in his life.  She says he says ‘t they take the hair off o’ horse-hides with plaster ‘n’ that wooden legs is very hard to get comfortable.  I s’pose the long ‘n’ short of it would be ’t I’d have to come over every mornin’ ‘n’ hook it on to you,—­’f it was left to Jathrop he’d probably have you half o’ the time with your toes pointin’ back ‘n’ your heel in front.  C’n you feel it now?”

“Yes; I—­”

“Then it’s still there, but, Lord! how that cow does kick ‘n’ pull ‘n’ moo!  Why don’t Jathrop do suthin’ to her?  She’d ought to be tended to.  When you come right square down to it, she ain’t no more to blame f’r kickin’ you ‘n’ he is f’r lookin’ like a frog.  They was each made so.  But even then she’d ought to be milked jus’ the same, ‘n’ Jathrop ’d ought to be settin’ at it.”