There were charming possibilities of nuts and checkerberries and
sassafras and sweet flag all the way between the house and the
pasture, and the chance to loiter, and have a romp.
She rarely showed any unwillingness to go for the cows; but once,
when there was a quilting at her mistress's house, she demurred. It
was right in the midst of the festivities; they were just preparing
for supper, in fact. Ann knew all about the good things in the
pantry, she was wild with delight at the unwonted stir, and anxious
not to lose a minute of it. She thought some one else might go for
the cows that night. She cried and sulked, but there was no help for
it. Go she had to. So she tucked up her gown--it was her best Sunday
one--took her stick, and trudged along. When she came to the pasture,
there were her master's cows waiting at the bars. So were Neighbor
Belcher's cows also, in the adjoining pasture. Ann had her hand on
the topmost of her own bars, when she happened to glance over at
Neighbor Belcher's, and a thought struck her. She burst into a peal
of laughter, and took a step towards the other bars.
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