The mistal door stood open to-night. Jose and the roan cow he was milking showed vague at the far end of the byre; the honey-rich flavour of kine mingled with the summer dusk within. The roan cow was more patient than usual, and Jose, feeling himself in consequence at liberty to take a little imaginative run, dropped his mumbled adjurations. His voice grew distinct and earnest as he commenced a spirited duologue, with one William Feather as second party, Jose acting as sponsor for William in that individual's absence. "Now, William, I've getten a grand beäst for sale. What mud tha be after gieing?" "Nay, I see nowt so mich i' her. Nay, I'm noan so set on naming a price." "Lad, tha'rt daft, letting sich a chance go by. She gi'es sixteen quart a day, that she does--eight i' th' morn, an' eight at neet. She hesn't a bad trick wi' her, an' milks quiet as a lamb. Now, come, William; she's dirt cheap at twelve pun ten." "Twelve pun ten, say'st 'a? What! for a ill-fettled beäst like yon? Fiddle o' that tale! I'll gie thee nine pun, an' mak thee shut on a bad bargain for old sake's sake." "Nay, nay, I willun't tak a ha'penny less nor twelve pun. There's not another like her i' Ling Crag--nay, nor for twenty mile round, nawther. She's muck cheäp, I tell thee, at twelve pun. Only yestermorn Dick o' Rag war here, an' he tried to beat me down to eleven pun; but I warn't sich a softy, I warn't, an' I telled Dick he could tak her at twelve pun ten or lump it, just as it suited him. I'll mak it twelve, though, as it's thee, lad, an' that's more nor I'd do for Dick. He'll be back to-morn, likely, wi' th' brass i' his pocket; an' a sorry chap tha'll be, William, when tha sees thy bargain goan." The argument went on briskly till Jose was nearly through with his last pair of udders; William had certainly the lesser half of the talking to do, but this was a pardonable human trait in old Binns. Finally, a compromise was effected at ten pounds, and Jose Binns got up from his stool. He smacked the roan cow's flanks, uttering the while a quiet cackle of delight. "Tha girt lanky bitch," cried he, "tha artn't worth seven pun, let alone ten. Tha knows tha kicks th' pail ower ivery time ony but me shapes to milk thee, an' oftens then; tha ho'ds thy milk; tha's as full o' jade's tricks as a egg is full o' meät. Eh, lass! but William mun ha' bin doiting when he gie ten pun for thee." "Is that my cow you're selling, Jose?" asked the preacher, from the doorway. "Ay, I war doing part bargaining. I selled th' owd roän cow for ten pun. Eh, it war grand--grand! He's noan what he war at a bargain, isn't William." Gabriel laughed, as one accustomed to these visionary sales. "I want the trap to-morrow. See that it's well cleaned--spick and span as you can make it." "Isn't it allus well cleäned?" grumbled Jose, settling himself to the last of the cows.