“I know; but p'raps there is free-will cows, and if they just _would_ do it you couldn't help being scrunched, for you mustn't let go of the rope nor run, Mr. Came says. “No, of course that would never do.” “Where you used to live did all the cows go down into the boggy places when you drove 'em to pasture, or did some walk in the road?” “There weren't any cows or any pastures where I used to live; that's what makes me so foolish; why does your cow need a rope?” “She don't like to go to pasture, Mr. Came says. Sometimes she'd druther stay to home, and so when she gets part way she turns round and comes backwards.” “Dear me!” thought Mrs. Baxter, “what becomes of this boy-mite if the cow has a spell of going backwards?--Do you like to drive her?” she asked. “N-no, not erzackly; but you see, it'll be my cow if I drive her twenty-nine more times 'thout her gettin' her foot over the rope and 'thout my bein' afraid,” and a beaming smile gave a transient brightness to his harassed little face. “Will she feed in the ditch much longer?” he asked. “Shall I say 'Hurrap'? That's what Mr. Came says--'_Hurrap!_' like that, and it means to hurry up.” It was rather a feeble warning that he sounded and the cow fed on peacefully. The little fellow looked up at the minister's wife confidingly, and then glanced back at the farm to see if Cassius Came were watching the progress of events. “What shall we do next?” he asked. Mrs. Baxter delighted in that warm, cosy little “_we;_” it took her into the firm so pleasantly. She was a weak prop indeed when it came to cows, but all the courage in her soul rose to arms when Elisha said, “What shall _we_ do next?” She became alert, ingenious, strong, on the instant. “What is the cow's name?” she asked, sitting up straight in the swing-chair. “Buttercup; but she don't seem to know it very well. She ain't a mite like a buttercup.” “Never mind; you must shout 'Buttercup!' at the top of your voice, and twitch the rope _hard_; then I'll call, 'Hurrap!' with all my might at the same moment. And if she starts quickly we mustn't run nor seem frightened!” They did this; it worked to a charm, and Mrs. Baxter looked affectionately after her Little Prophet as the cow pulled him down Tory Hill. The lovely August days wore on. Rebecca was often at the parsonage and saw Elisha frequently, but Buttercup was seldom present at their interviews, as the boy now drove her to the pasture very early in the morning, the journey thither being one of considerable length and her method of reaching the goal being exceedingly roundabout.