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Suckling calves have freedom of the 

 wheat-field. The cow-pen is there upon its 

 hither verge. See the frisking clamorers 

 clustered outside, sending a chorus of bleats 

 to greet and hasten their homing mothers. 

 Pretty fellows ! All fine as silk, with gay red- 

 and-white coats and velvet muzzles. Saucy, 

 too ! See them race about, with tails curled 

 daintily over the back, a merry soft lighten- 

 ing in the big dark eyes. 



Calling, answering, the cows come down 

 the lane. Half-way they break to running 

 come full-tilt to the cow-pen's gate. Once 

 inside, each goes soberly to her allotted 

 place. Betty lets in a calf Brandy's. Ev- 

 idently she is prime favorite with the milk- 

 maid. Softly, deftly, she " suckles the calf," 

 shifting his small, eager mouth from teat to 

 teat. As much low milk as he pleases, so 

 he leaves her the cream. She leans con- 

 tentedly against Brandy's warm side, till 

 creamy froth ropes down from the calf's 

 quick mouth. Then comes a tug of war. 

 Betty seizes both ears tugs, tugs breaks 

 his hold, loses her own totters falls flat 

 springs up with a laughing cry, again 

 muzzles her enemy, wraps his head in her 

 apron, and backs him, tossing and strug- 

 gling, to safe outer regions. 



