42 SUMMER IN A BOG. 



' ' The stable ! That 's no place. There are 

 sanatoriums for such cases. ' ' 



She seemed more than ever doubtful of me. 

 But she resumed her story : 



"After he knocked me onto the ground the 

 first time I was that skeert ! I dassent stir for 

 a bit, an' then I knowed I 'd have to try agin 

 to git acrost. So I riz up an' started to climb 

 the fence agin. An' with that he knocked me 

 off it the second time. I reckon he 'd about 

 killed me then an' there, only some men as wuz 

 workin' in the next field heard me a-screamin'." 

 She chuckled a little at the recollection, and I 

 remember thinking her mirth ill-timed, consid- 

 ering the indignity — ''for I jest screamed fur 

 all was out. An' they shouted at him an' run 

 with big sticks an' pitchforks in their hands 

 an' chased him off." 



"But why do you live with him?" I asked, 

 sternly. For though I am a believer in long 

 suffering and mutual forbearance in family 

 life, I firmly draw the line at assault and bat- 

 tery. 



' ' Livin ' with him ? ' ' She, too, began to show 

 signs of irascibility with my stupidity. "I 

 hain't a-livin' with him I" 



"Are you not his housekeeper?" 



"Oh," she said, "I hain't a-talkin' about 

 him. I was a-talkin ' about the gentleman cow ; ' ' 



