Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 10, 2025
Breakfast was cleared away, the beds were made, the sitting-room was tidied, and it was not eight o'clock, yet she was nearly done. And while she worked steadily to finish, the boiler on the stove behind her kept time with its clanking cover to the grating tune of her washboard. The little girl no longer had to make use of a three-legged milking-stool in order to reach the tub.
With the fresh air my senses gradually came back to me, and I began to understand why it was I could not see the cow. The reason was that the house was between us. By some mysterious process I had been discharged into the back garden. I still had the milking-stool in my hand, but the cow no longer troubled me.
Robina, I argued, the idea once in her mind, would immediately have ordered a cow, clamouring for it as Hopkins had picturesquely expressed it as though she had not strength to live another day without a cow. Her next proceeding would have been to buy a milking-stool.
There, before one of the houses, she called aloud, with a long, lingering note, "Jacob!" and Jacob Pease rose from his milking-stool, and came forward. Jacob was tall and snuff-colored, a widower of three years' standing. There was a theory that he wanted Mary, and lacked the courage to ask her. "That you, Mary Dunbar?" said he. "Anything on hand?"
"What is your especial fancy, my love a side-board or a dining-room table? Don't be bashful, pray! Aim at the sky, and you may succeed in hitting the tree. I shouldn't wonder if I rose to a milking-stool, if you asked me nicely." "And I'll work you a kettle-holder, sweet one, as soon as the sale is over, and Chrissie a "
Several hours later I saw Jimmie, with a shining new milk-pail on his arm, followed by Amos with the milking-stool in his hand and his tongue in his cheek, go toward the Guernsey's stall. We all looked expectantly at each other, then rose, as if by common consent, and followed. Lady Mary tucked her arm under Mrs. Jimmie's, and gurgled deliciously. "Oh, dear Mrs. Jimmie!
He heard him making the fire in the kitchen stove, then the rattle of milk pails, and the bang of the door as he left for the barn. Douglas tumbled out of bed, dressed, and in a few minutes was at the stable. "What! You here?" Jake asked in surprise, as he paused in the act of picking up a milking-stool. "Certainly, and why not?" Douglas replied.
It was a tasteful milking-stool, this one she had selected, ornamented with the rough drawing of a cow in poker work: a little too solid for my taste, but one that I should say would wear well. The pail she had not as yet had time to see about. This galvanised bucket we were using was, I took it, a temporary makeshift.
Taking one of the tin pails and a milking-stool, she set off across the fields to the pasture in which her two cows were grazing. Everything within her sight as she passed hedges, grass, corn, even the trodden path across the field gleamed with the radiance of the risen sun. The sky, intolerably splendid and untroubled by clouds, was filled by the sun.
The smell of hay floated down from the loft, and the odour of the cow's breath came in gusts as she turned her face about. Kate sat on the milking-stool close by the ewer, and her head, on which she wore a sun-bonnet, she leaned against the cow's side. "No news of Pete, then? No?" she said. "No," said Philip. Kate dug her head deeper in the cow, and muttered, "Dear Pete! So simple, so natural."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking