1904. 
Where Nothing Ever Happens. 
(Continued from last week ) 
The horse’s name was Billy. He was 
between 20 and 30 years of age, but still 
sound in wind and limb, his only faults 
being an extreme unwillingness to move 
taster than a very slow walk, and a habit 
of falling down. The shafts of the demo- 
crat had been broken a dozen times and 
were wound about with yards and yards 
of strings and ropes. By an energetic and 
persisent use of the whip, which had lost 
about a foot off the end, Billy and I suc¬ 
ceeded in reaching the station only 10 
minutes late. 
Estelle was waiting on the platform, 
looking as pretty as a pink and as fresh as 
a rose. She greeted me very affectionate¬ 
ly, saying how glad she was to see me, 
and we put her valise into the back of the 
wagon and got in ourselves. Just as we 
were seated, a man in a hand-car went 
along the track, and Bill evidently thought 
it a good time to show off. He pretended 
to be terribly frightened.—The Wenham 
branch railroad runs through his pasture, 
by the way.—He danced up and down as 
well as his stiffness would allow, stretched 
his neck up like a giraffe, then turned so 
abruptly that he nearly upset and set out 
for home in a ridiculous, wooden kind of 
a gallop. He was so tough-bitted that I 
couldn’t do much with him. But he for¬ 
got his fright before he had gone two 
rods, and subsided into his usual gait, 
fumbling along with his nose nearly touch¬ 
ing the ground. 
1 looked at Estelle. She was as white 
as chalk. “Oh, I was so scared,’’ she said 
faintly. “Will he—is he likely to do it 
again?” 
“I don’t think so,” I answered dryly. 
“He only has those spells at long inter¬ 
vals.” I didn’t say anything about his 
other spells. 
'The old wagon rattled and shook, and 
1 feared it or the harness would drop to 
pieces any minute, while Billy stumbled 
the worst I ever saw him. We were going 
down the last hill when my fears were 
realized. Billv stumbled; I saw he wasn’t 
going to recover himself. “Hold-on-to- 
the-back-of-the seat!” I shouted, and 
braced myself, and the same instant our 
noble steed was lying flat in the middle 
of the road. 
Estelle screamed. Then, as soon as she 
could articulate, “Is he dead?—Oh, what 
shall we do, what shall we do?” 
“Dead? No!” I returned wrathfully, as 
I sprang from the wagon. “I only wish 
he was!” 
If it had been any other horse I should 
have wanted some one to sit on his head 
while I unbuckled the harness, but I 
wasn’t the least bit afraid of Billy’s strug¬ 
gling or trying to rise. He was reaching 
out for a lock of hay some one had drop¬ 
ped, a few inches beyond his nose; and 
seemed quite comfortable. Indeed, when 
I had freed him from the wagon and 
backed it out of his way I had to switch 
him before he would make the least effort 
to get up. I harnessed him in again. For¬ 
tunately the harness held, and we went on 
rejoicing. 
“What is going on?” Estelle exclaimed, 
as we came in sight of the house. It was 
quite a busy scene. Two farm wagons 
were just clattering off after depositing 
their loads of green cornstalks, and an¬ 
other was clattering up; a small regiment 
of the neighbors, men and women, had 
gathered to see Gideon Robinson’s new 
gasoline engine work, one of the very 
noisy kind that kept up an endless series 
of explosions; the man inside the silo was 
yelling something to the man at the cutter, 
and Job Pike’s three-year-old Johnny was 
running about and screeching just for the 
fun of it. 
Matilda came out and took charge of 
Estelle, and I drove Billy home and paid 
Old Folger 50 cents. Then I hurried back 
to do my part about getting dinner. Near¬ 
ly all the women who had come to see the 
engine work, dropped in to see us for a 
few minutes before they went home. 
When the last one had gone. Estelle es¬ 
tablished herself by the south kitchen 
window with her embroidery, and Matilda 
and I began paring apples as fast as we 
could for the pandowdy for dinner. Sud¬ 
denly Estelle gave utterance to a horrified 
“Oh 1” 
We looked up and saw at once what had 
happened. The Folger cow, who was al- 
was getting out of her pasture, had wan¬ 
dered into our back yard; Estelle had 
heard a breathing sound and looked 
around to see the cow’s nose within six 
inches of her own, with only the window 
screen between. The cow turned away 
and started to go around the house with 
a determined air. “She has decided to 
come in by the door,” Matilda said, with 
an exasperated laugh. We rushed out. 
Estelle stood poised for flight, undecided 
whether to stay or seek a safer place of 
refuge. 
Ihe cow paused at the clothes-line. 
“Oh, oh!” Matilda cried. “She’s eating 
a dish-towel!” We hurried as fast as we 
could, but the cow was quicker than we. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
771 
She snatched the towel from the line and 
the last end of it was disappearing in her 
mouth as we reached her. So then all 
we could do was to chase her up the road 
and throw green tomatoes at her. 
“How did you dare to?” Estelle ex¬ 
claimed, when we returned from the chase, 
red and perspiring. 
As our guest seemed rather upset by the 
cow episode, I proposed that she sit by the 
window in our bedroom and watch the 
men at work. She thought she should 
like to. but she didn’t stay there long; 
she came out where we were looking very 
much disturbed. “That little child keeps 
running back and forth right under the 
horses’ stomachs,” she explained, “and 
they are stepping about and kicking flies. 
—I expect every minute to see him killed 
before my very eyes.” 
“There isn’t the least danger,” we as¬ 
sured her. “No one of that Pike tribe 
was ever known to die of anything except 
extreme old age.” 
But she still felt uneasy, so I went out 
and coaxed Johnny into the back yard, 
where there was a pile of sand, and gave 
him some old tin dishes and a spoon. Mrs. 
Clapp came over to borrow some saler- 
atus, and after she went I happened to 
glance out of the window; that little Pike 
nuisance had let out all the hens, and they 
were scratching up the celery. This was 
a case for both of us, and Estelle helped 
too; she said she was not afraid of hens. 
We got them in sooner than we had ex¬ 
pected, and returned to our interrupted 
work, after banishing Johnny from the 
back yard. While we were setting the 
table for dinner, the rural free delivery 
came, and also Phil Carr to say his grand¬ 
mother was worse, and could we come and 
watch with her one night. We told him 
one of us would come the next night but 
one. At 12 o’clock we blew the horn for 
dinner. 
“Where’s Johnny, I wonder?” Job Pike 
asked, as we all sat down to the table. 
Nobody knew, and Job went out to 
look him up. Soon afterward we heard 
the sounds of woe, increasing in volume 
as it came nearer, and Job appeared with 
his little son, the child screaming as if he 
were being murdered in cold blood. 
“What is the matter?” we all cried. 
“He’s been inquiring a little too closely 
into the housekeeping arrangements of the 
yellow wasp,” Job replied, in his usual 
calm drawl. “Stepped into a nest of ’em. 
Guess there are a few about him now.” 
“Eat your dinner, Job,” I said. “I will 
attend to him.” 
I took the sufferer into another room, 
removed his garments and shook out and 
killed several yellow jackets, applied saler" 
atus and water to the numerous stings, re¬ 
dressed the child, and he went to the table 
feeling more composed in his mind. 
I forgot to mention that the R. F. D. 
had brought a postal from the man we buy 
cows of, over in Wenham, saying that 
some one had brought him an unusually 
large calf a week old, and for us to come 
after it that day if we wanted it. Calves 
were scarce and we had more milk than 
the pigs could eat, so we felt that we 
must get this one. Cousin Elias went 
over to see if Mr. Otis had finished his 
mowing, right after dinner, and brought 
back one of his horses and hitched him to 
the elm tree till we should be ready for 
him. 
We did the dishes up in a hurry, Es¬ 
telle helping, and I harnessed Mr. Otis’ 
horse into our phaeton buggy. Just as I 
was ready to start, a carriage and span 
drove up, and four people alighted, h 
was the Spamers, over from Rockville. 
They were cousins of our mother’s, and 
quite aristocratic people. Mr. Spamer 
senior had been to Congress, and his son 
was a surgeon of considerable repute. 
Their wives were very well dressed, and 
had very pleasant manners. I could see 
that Estelle was greatly impressed. Dr. 
Spamer lived in the city and she knew of 
him. She seemed shocked that I did not 
immediately give up my calf expedition, 
but as I told her, business is business. 
Then she said she would go with me. 
The ride to Wenham was enjoyable. 
Mr. Gill was at home and he tied the calf 
into a grain sack, with his head sticking 
out, and put him into the buggy. There 
is a lot of room in a phaeton buggy be 
tween the seat and the dasher, and Matilda 
and I had often carried them home that 
way, but if I had known how big and 
lively this one was I should have taken the 
covered wagon. Our ride home was not 
entirely without interest. That calf would 
rise up every little while, and it took all 
my strength to make him lie down again. 
Finally he came so near getting out of the 
buggy, bag and all, that I took the precau¬ 
tion of keeping my feet on him. But even 
so, he would stretch his head away out 
one side of the dasher, and neople we met 
would smile very broadly indeed. Es¬ 
telle was afraid of the poor creature, and 
every time he gave one of his long-drawn- 
out bleats, she would shrink away and 
look as scared as could be. Altogether, 
I was very glad when our journey ended 
and the calf put into the calf-shed. The 
two men Spamers were out of doors some¬ 
where, and we women were just settling 
down for a cosy talk, when we heard the 
most unearthly cries. 
(To be continued.) 
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