on on that side of him.  He was runnin’ the grindstone and puttin’ a good sharp edge on his butcher knife, when he happened to look up and seed old Jinnie comin’ head on.  He dropped the knife and started for the house, thinkin’ he’d dodge in the front door.  Over went the grindstone and old Jinnie, too, but she wuz up on her feet ag’in quicker’n scat.  She seemed to scent the old man, for when she got to the front door she turned in and then bolted right into the parlor.  Old Bill heerd her comin’, and he went head fust through the open winder, and landed in the orchard.  He got up and run for a big apple-tree that stood out near the road, and never stopped till he’d clumb nearly to the top.  Little Lizzie gave a yell like a catamount and ran behind the pianner, which was sot out a little from the wall.  Old Jinnie went bunt inter the planner and made a sandwich of Lizzie, who wuz behind it.  Mis’ Tompkins heard Lizzie scream, and come to see what the matter was.  When she see Jinnie she jist made strides for the wood-shed, and old Jinnie sashayed arter her.  Mis’ Tompkins went skitin’ through the wood-shed.  There wuz a pair of steps that led up inter the corn barn, and Mis’ Tompkins got up there jist as old Jinnie walked off with the steps.  Then old Jinnie took a walk outside and looked ‘round as unconsarned as though nothin’ had happened.  Jist about this time one of them tin peddlers come along that druv one of them red carts with pots, and pans, and kittles, and brooms, and brushes, and mops hung all over it.  He spied old Bill up in the tree, and sez he, ‘What be yar doin’, Farmer Tompkins?’ ‘Pickin’ apples,’ said old Bill.  He don’t waste words on nobody.  ’Ain’t it rather early for apples?’ inquired the peddler.  ’These are some I forgot to pick last fall,’ replied old Bill.  ‘Anythin’ in my line?’ said the peddler.  ‘Ain’t got no money,’ said Bill.  ’Hain’t you got something you want to trade?’ asked the peddler.  ‘Yes,’ said Bill, ’I’ll swap that cow over yonder; you kin have her for fifteen dollars, an’ I’ll take it all in trade,’ ‘Good milker?’ said the man.  ‘Fust-class butter,’ said old Bill.  ‘What do you want in trade?’ said the man.  ‘Suit yerself,’ said Bill, ‘chuck it down side of the road there.’  This was soon done, and the peddler druv up front of old Jinnie and went to git her, so as to tie her behind his waggin.  She didn’t stop to be led.  Down went her head agin and she made for the peddler.  He got the other side of his team jist as old Jinnie druv her horns ’tween the spokes of the forrard wheel.  Down come the pots, and pans, and kittles, in ev’ry direction.  A clotheshorse fell on the horse’s back and off he started on a dead run, and that wuz the end of poor Jinnie.  Before she could pull back her horns, round went the wheel and broke her neck.  The peddler pulled up his horse and went back to see old Bill, who was climbin’ down from the apple tree.  ‘What am I goin’ to do about this?’ said the peddler.  ’I wuz countin’ on drivin’ her over to the