“More shame for you! A farmer's wife, and afraid of a cow! Why, these little children would laugh at you.” I did not reply, nor would I ask him again. I walked slowly to the field, and my indignation made me forget my fear. I had just finished milking, and with a brimming pail was preparing to climb the fence and return to the house, when a very wild ox we had came running with headlong speed from the wood. All my fears were alive again in a moment. I snatched up the pail, and, instead of climbing the fence and getting to the house, I ran with all the speed I could command down the steep hill towards the lake shore, my feet caught in a root of the many stumps in the path, and I fell to the ground, my pail rolling many yards ahead of me. Every drop of my milk was spilt upon the grass. The ox passed on. I gathered myself up and returned home. Malcolm was very fond of new milk, and he came to me at the door. “Hi! hi!--Where's the milk?” “No milk for the poor children to-day,” said I, showing him the inside of the pail, with a sorrowful shake of the head, for it was no small loss to them and me. “How the devil's that? So you were afraid to milk the cows. Come away, and I will keep off the buggaboos.” “I did milk them--no thanks to your kindness, Mr. Malcolm--but--” “But what?” “The ox frightened me, and I fell and spilt all the milk.” “Whew! Now don't go and tell your husband that it was all my fault; if you had had a little patience, I would have come when you asked me, but I don't choose to be dictated to, and I won't be made a slave by you or any one else.” “Then why do you stay, sir, where you consider yourself so treated?” said I. “We are all obliged to work to obtain bread; we give you the best share--surely the return we ask for it is but small.” “You make me feel my obligations to you when you ask me to do any thing; if you left it to my better feelings we should get on better.” “Perhaps you are right. I will never ask you to do any thing for me in future.” “Oh, now, that's all mock humility. In spite of the tears in your eyes, you are as angry with me as ever; but don't go to make mischief between me and Moodie. If you'll say nothing about my refusing to go with you, I'll milk the cows for you myself to-night.” “And can you milk?” said I, with some curiosity. “Milk! Yes; and if I were not so confoundedly low-spirited and ---- lazy, I could do a thousand other things too. But now, don't say a word about it to Moodie.”