"No, dear," said Mrs. March. "Papa does not want to go at all. It is very hard for him to make up his mind to do it. And I do not want to go either, except on papa's account: but we would go anywhere in the world that would make papa well; wouldn't we?" "Yes, indeed," said Nelly, earnestly. "Why doesn't papa want to go?" cried Rob. "There'll be plenty of people there to preach to: won't there? And that's all papa cares for." "Papa doesn't like to leave all these people here that he has preached to for so many years: he loves them all very much," replied Mrs. March; "and he does not expect to preach any more if he goes to Colorado. There are not a great many villages there; it is chiefly a wild new country: people live on great farms and keep large herds of sheep or of cows; and the doctor wants papa to be a farmer and work out of doors, and not live in his study among his books any more." "Be a farmer like Uncle Alonzo?" exclaimed Nelly. "Oh, mamma, wouldn't that be nice? and wouldn't papa like that? He always has a good time when he goes to Uncle Alonzo's. He says it makes him feel as if he was a boy again. And oh, mamma, the cows are beautiful. Don't you like cows, mamma?" Nelly was now almost as excited as Rob. She had been several times to make a visit at her Uncle Alonzo's house. He was a rich farmer, and had big barns, and fields full of raspberries and huckleberries, and a beautiful pine grove close to the house; and he had nearly a hundred cows, and used to make butter and cheese to sell, and both Nelly and Rob thought there was nothing so delightful in the whole world as to stay at Uncle Alonzo's. "No, dear," said Mrs. March. "I can't honestly say I do like cows. I am so silly as to be afraid of them. But I like your Uncle Alonzo's farm very much." "Oh, mamma, how can you be afraid of a cow!" cried Rob. "They never hurt you." "I suppose it's because I am a coward, Rob," answered Mrs. March; "but I can't help it. I was chased by a bull once when I was a girl; and, ever since then, I have been afraid of any thing which has horns on its head." "Is that what the word coward comes from, mamma?" asked Rob: "does it mean to be afraid of a cow?" "I guess not, Rob," said Mrs. March, laughing. "Don't begin to make puns, Rob: it is a bad habit." "Puns!" said Rob, much surprised; "what is a pun?" Then Mrs. March tried to explain to Rob what a pun was, but it was very hard work; and I don't think Rob understood, after all her explanations, so I shall not try to explain it to you here; but I dare say a great many of you understand what a pun is, and, if you do, you will see that Rob had accidentally made rather a good pun, for a little boy only twelve years old, when he asked if a coward was a person afraid of a cow. Presently the dinner-bell rang. "Why, mamma," exclaimed both the children, "it isn't dinner-time, is it?"