THE FARM SUNDAY 77 



&quot;Half-past ten,&quot; I said gently; and added, 

 What are you going to do with her now?&quot; 

 His jaw set in a fashion I knew. 

 &quot;I m going to put her in that lower past 



ure.&quot; 



I saw it was useless to protest. Church was 

 a vanished dream, but I began to fear that 

 Sunday dinner was also doomed. &quot;Do you 

 want me to help?&quot; I asked. 



&quot;Oh, no,&quot; said Jonathan. &quot;I ll put her in 

 the barn till I can get a rope, and then I ll 

 lead her.&quot; 



However, I did help get her into the barn. 

 Then while he went for his rope I unhar 

 nessed. When he came back, he had changed 

 into a flannel shirt and working trousers. He 

 entered the barn and in a few moments 

 emerged, pulling hard on the rope. Nothing 

 happened. 



&quot;Go around the other way,&quot; he called, 

 &quot;and take a stick, and poke that cow till she 

 starts.&quot; 



I went in at the back door, slid between the 

 stanchions into the cow stall, and gingerly 

 poked at the animal s hind quarters and said, 

 &quot;Hi!&quot; until at last, with a hunching of hips 



