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Rh replied the clergyman, with his head set against the cow's side.

"But I say, Brown, the 'living' cannot be a rich one if you have to milk your own cows before breakfast—they might provide you with a slavey."

"There are no slaveys here. I like to come and mingle with the young people and old folk while the freshness of morning lights on them. I don't care to look on with my hands in my pockets, so I milk a cow or two."

"One for my nob, I suppose; but I could not milk a cow if I was paid for it."

"No? Just loose that leg-rope, like a good fellow."

"How the deuce do you manage it? Won't untie," said Tom, who, while Frank was delivering his pailful to the man at the vat in the centre, was fumbling at the creature's leg, trying to untie the running knot on the rope about the cow's leg.

"Look out, man," cried Frank, laughing. "She'll kick your head off; she's a youngster."

"They don't kick, do they?"

"Only when they're scalded."

"Now, what do you do that for? To wash them? I heard that the whole box-and-dice of you have a swim in common every morning. That's jolly! I shall go tomorrow and see the fun.

"By Jove! what's that? My horse in a fit," exclaimed the townsman, "with the boss's best saddle on. Hullo!—look at his legs in the air. He seems to like it."

Frank looked round and roared with laughter.

"You are a city gossoon. He's only rolling. I'm glad it's not my saddle."

"Will he die?" asked Tom, anxiously. "Talk of turning up feet to the roses! I do believe the beggar wants to smash that confounded saddle, the way he goes