for the present, and you’ll learn how to take care of her fast enough. But what shall I feed her? Why the money you pay Churchill for milk, with what you can raise on your lot, will keep your cow right along, and instead of one quart a day, you’ll have all the milk and cream and butter you want to use, and some to spare, and, Mary, I thought it wouldn’t break us up if it didn’t prove a success, so I took the cow on what he was owing me—twenty five dollars—and here she is.” “Oh, Joseph, I am so glad you bought her, I do believe we can keep her,” said Mary, “how gentle she seems,”—for during the talk the children had been petting the cow, who appeared well pleased with her new acquaintances. The baby partaking of the general animation, crowed with delight, as though already anticipating the good time coming. “She has behaved like a baby coming over here,” said Joseph, “and I declare I begin to love her already. I have always wished we could live where we could have animals around us, and perhaps we will some day.” Mary said she hoped they could, for she felt lonesome for them. “But what shall we name our cow? For my part I would like to call her ‘Comfort,’ and while she contributes to our comfort we will endeavor to do the same for her.” Joseph agreed to the name, saying he needed plenty to eat and drink, a good bed and pleasant home, and he believed that animals did too, so he would give her one of his nice roomy stalls in his barn, make her a bed of shavings from the shop until he could do better. “We have pure water for her to drink, with hay and vegetables to eat, and that will keep her alive until we learn what she will thrive on best.” As this was a “broken” day, he thought they had better get neighbor Manning’s horse and carry-all, and drive out to father Granger’s. He had always been a good farmer and could tell him just how to care for the cow. All were delighted with this plan and were soon enjoying a six-mile drive into the country.