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Updated: June 3, 2025
Every now and then she would pause in her own work to watch Janet Janet butter-making, Janet feeding the calves, Janet cooking for on that homely figure in white cap and apron everything seemed to depend. The frost had come, and clear skies with it. The day passed in various miscellaneous business, under shelter, in the big barn.
The farmer with whom we have talked said he was about determined to send his milk to the creamery, since butter-making made it so hard for the women. Surely woman is less a drudge than she used to be. If, after being relieved from the labor of churning, the remaining working of the butter is considered too hard for the farmer's wife, the day of a woman's redemption must be near at hand.
With this solitary exception our butter-making progressed as favorably as we could desire. I do not quite know how to believe the stories I am told of wonderful cows which my friends are fortunate enough to possess. One gentleman has informed me that he has one which gives fifteen pounds of butter weekly. Now we have had several, but never made more on the average than eight pounds per week.
Deacon Baxter was taking his cows to a pasture far over the hill, the feed having grown too short in his own fields. Patty was washing dishes in the kitchen and Waitstill was in the dairy-house at the butter-making, one of her chief delights.
Some time ago we showed our first six months' accounts to a friend, who was very sceptical as to the profit we always told him we made by our farming. After he had looked over our figures, he said, "Well! And after all, what have you made by your butter-making, pig-killing, and fowl-slaughtering?" "What have we made?" said I, indignantly.
Frank and Lou Bergson had very similar ideas, and they were two of the political agitators of the county. The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the ground was too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Marcel's saloon. After he was gone, Marie went out to the back porch to begin her butter-making.
Afterward she had helped with the breakfast dishes and had taken her turn at the butter-making in the spring-house, thumping the heavy dasher up and down in the cedar churn until her arms ached. But it was cool and pleasant down in the spring-house with the water trickling out in a ceaseless drip-drip on the cold stones.
"But if she is, we must find some way of curing her of that. I don't want a fine lady about my place. There's the dairy, now; we might do more in that way, I should think, and get more profit out of butter-making than we do by sending part of the milk up to London. Butter fetches a good price now-a-days from year's end to year's end, and Ellen is a rare hand at a dairy; I know that for certain."
She looked down at her arms: no arms could be prettier down to a little way below the elbow they were white and plump, and dimpled to match her cheeks; but towards the wrist, she thought with vexation that they were coarsened by butter-making and other work that ladies never did.
Alas! Mrs. Stanton, she has discovered a better business than butter-making. She is going to marry sensible girl that she is and she is not going to marry a dairy-farmer either. I doubt if any body in California will ever make as nice butter as this pretty Swede; certainly, every other dairy I saw seemed to me commonplace and uninteresting, after I had seen hers.
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