ake her time--he was
in no hurry whatever. Neither was Sarah, apparently, for between
balking and running, and capering about in a truly extraordinary
manner she passed the better portion of the night. Finally, in
despair, Steve laid the case before her and asked if she would look at
the matter dispassionately and consider the lateness of the hour and
their distance from the domestic roof--would she, he urged, keep this
great central truth in sight?

She said that she would not, and she said it so rudely that Steve felt
hurt. When he had gotten up and given himself a good rubbing, he found
that Sarah Maria, like some little angel, had gone before, and he
hobbled after her as fast as his bruises would permit.

They reached home at last, and a late moon glowered down at them with
calm severity. Truth to tell, both Steve and Sarah looked as if they
had been on a spree, and both were callous as to appearances. Their
one idea was to part company as soon as possible.

Out of respect to the Society for the Prevention, and so forth, Steve
decided to give his interesting companion a drink; then he would have
done with her forever. Having secured her to a near tree, he
approached the pump, pail in hand.

But Sarah Maria was watching him narrowly, and as she looked there
rankled in her seemingly quiet breast the memory of her wrongs. There
was still a twist in her tail, left over from the box-car, and several
kinks in her temper, and influenced by these she approached Steve just
as he bent to lift the pail, and slipping her horns under him,
dexterously lifted him from the ground and sent him crashing through
the nearest window, which chanced to be that of his chamber.

"For the love of mercy!" screamed Nannie, starting up from her sleep
in the next room, "what is happening now?"

"I'm coming to bed," said Steve.

XI

Steve was so used up by his rural experiences that he could scarcely
get out of bed the next day. And that was not the worst of it: his
temper was bruised as well as his body, as was manifest by the way he
behaved. Not that he stormed or sulked; Steve was above anything of
this kind; but he did speak very decidedly, for him, as he rose from
his late breakfast.

"Nannie," he said, "you may do as you wish about the cow. I think it
might be well to sell her for beef--she is in good condition. But do
as you wish about that--she is yours; but I really cannot undertake to