old your horses, Whirlwind, hold your horses a bit," cried the amazed
butcher. "Now tell me what has happened."

"You grab that knife and come along!" she shouted, almost frantic with
grief and fear. "That cow can't be left with a broken leg." And seizing
him by the hand she dragged him toward the door. The sight of the
child's great distress touched the big man, and pausing only long enough
to close his shop, he followed her flying feet down the road to the
little brown house where poor Bossy lay.

"There she is! Ain't her leg broken?"

"Yes, and a bad break, too. She will have to go, kidlet. It's a shame,
for she's a mighty fine looking critter. I'll give you fifteen dollars
for her. Where is your oldest sister?"

"In Martindale. Oh, don't wait for her to come back! I can't bear to
have Bossy look at me like that! I broke her leg trying to milk her.
She's worth a lot more'n fifteen dollars alive, but as meat I s'pose
we'll have to let her go cheap. You can have her. Gail would say so too,
if she was here. Give me the money and then stick her as soon as I get
inside the house."

The butcher hesitated, then counted out fifteen dollars in bills and
handed them to the trembling, grief-stricken Peace, saying, "You
couldn't get any more for her in the city, under the circumstances, I
know. Butchers don't ordinarily buy milch cows for beef, and I shouldn't
take her if she wasn't in first-class condition. If Gail ain't
satisfied, send her up to the shop."

Peace snatched the bills with shaking hands and disappeared up the path,
calling back over her shoulder, "Stick her easy, Mr. Jones, and quick!
I'm going upstairs and cry."

But she didn't carry out her intention, for as she flung open the
kitchen door, the pungent odor of something burning greeted her
nostrils, and there stood Cherry beside the red-hot stove, dipping rice
from one big saucepan into other kettles which Allee was bringing out of
the pantry for her.

"Oh, Peace," she cried in relief, "I don't know what we will ever do
with all this rice! It's sticking faster than I can scratch it up, it's
boiled over the stove three times, and I've filled up four pans already.
Give me another, Allee!"

"It needs some more water," said Peace, catching up a dipper of cold
water and pouring it into one sizzling pot. "Mercy, how it has grown
since we put it on to cook! That kettleful won't burn now."

"But it has turned yellow and smells dreadfully smoky," answered Ch