mess of eggs, suds and
broken china, at the startled calf struggling to his feet. Then, with
a hysterical scream, she turned, snatched the boiling pot from the
stove, and hurled it blindly at the author of all mischief.

Happily for the blunderer, Mrs. Jabe's rage was so unbridled that she
really tried to hit the object of it. Therefore, she missed. The pot
went crashing through the leg of a table and shivered to atoms against
the log wall, contributing its full share to the discouraging mess on
the floor. But, as it whirled past, a great wedge of the boiling water
leaped out over the rim, flew off at a tangent, and caught the
floundering calf full in the side, in a long flare down from the tip
of the left shoulder. The scalding fluid seemed to cling in the
short, fine hair almost like an oil. With a loud bleat of pain the
calf shot to his feet and went galloping around the yard. Mrs. Jabe
rushed to the door, and stared at him wide-eyed. In a moment her
senses came back to her, and she realized what a hideous thing she had
done. Next she remembered Jabe--and what he would think of it!

Then, indeed, her conscience awoke in earnest, and a wholesome dread
enlivened her remorse. Forgetting altogether the state of her kitchen,
she rushed through the slop to the flour-barrel. Flour, she had always
heard, was the thing for burns and scalds. The pesky calf should be
treated right, if it took the whole barrel. Scooping up an extravagant
dishpanful of the white, powdery stuff, and recklessly spilling a lot
of it to add to the mixture on the floor, she rushed out into the yard
to apply her treatment, and, if possible, poultice her conscience.

The young moose, anguished and bewildered, had at last taken refuge in
the darkest corner of the stable. As Mrs. Jabe approached with her pan
of flour, he stood staring and shaking, but made no effort to avoid
her, which touched the over-impetuous dame to a fresh pang of
penitence. She did not know that the stupid youngster had quite failed
to associate her in any way with his suffering. It was only the
pot--the big, black thing which had so inexplicably come bounding at
him--that he blamed. From Mrs. Jabe's hands he expected some kind of
consolation.

In the gloom of the stall Mrs. Jabe could not see the extent of the
calf's injury. "Mebbe the water wasn't _quite_ bilin'!" she murmured
hopefully, coaxing and dragging the youngster forth into the light.
The hope, however, proved vain a