14 Turnaside Cotiage.

T hoped she would have taken the hint, but nothing
seemed to be further from her thoughts. So, hiding
my stick behind me, lest she should feel insulted by
it, I went closer to her, holding out my hand, and
saying, “Monna, come home ; do come home,
cow !”

Monna went on chewing and meditating. Then
I remembered that the boys whom I had seen
driving their cows through the lanes always cried
“ Ca-a-ow!” to them ; perhaps she only understood
that language. So I tried it; but the small sound
I made would hardly have frightened a field-mouse,
and had not the slightest effect on Monna. What
was to be done? If my father would but pass home
this way—but that was very unlikely. I even wished
that Nance would come to look after me, and
glanced again and again in the direction of home,
but in vain; no help appeared. At last I grew
desperate, and, going behind the cow, aimed a blow
with my stick—not too hard a one, though, for fear
of consequences—at her hind-quarters. Monna
whisked her tail in reply, and I leaped backwards
in terror, stumbled against an old furze-stump, and
rolled over. I had hardly picked myself up and
made sure that Monna was not coming after me
either to toss or to bite, when I heard a voice ex-
claiming, “Hey, hey, Reuben Bramble keepin’ a cow!