For a moment silence, deep, profound, and charged with expectancy
prevailed. Then like a bomb came Bobby's reply: "I ain't put it in at all."
Everybody was vociferous in condemnation, but Bobby, unabashed, held his
ground, and logically defended his action.
"I got the news-agent to look in the 'losts' every night, and thar want
nothin' about no cow. 'Twas up to them as lost it to advertise instead
of us. If they didn't want her bad enough to run an ad, they couldn't
hev missed her very much."
"That's so," agreed the Boarder, convinced by Bobby's able argument.
"Most likely she doesn't belong to any one," was Amarilly's theory. "She
just came to stay a while, and then she'll go away again."
"She won't git no chanst to 'scape, unless she kin go out the way the
chillern does," laughed Mrs. Jenkins.
One day the Boarder brought home some information that seemed to throw
light on the subject.
"One of the railroad hands told me that a big train of cattle was
sidetracked up this way somewhar the same night the cow come here. The
whole keerload got loose, but they ketched them all, or thought they
did. Mebby they didn't miss this ere one, or else they couldn't wait to
look her up. Their train pulled out as soon as they rounded up the
bunch."
"I guess the cow-house looked to her like it was a freight car,"
observed Milt, "and she thought she hed got back where she belonged."
The cow, meanwhile, quietly chewed her cud, and continued to endear
herself to the hearts of all the Jenkins family save Cory. Every time
Bobby spoke her name he called to her, "Co, boss! Co, boss," just as Gus
did when he greeted the cow.
As for the little dairyman himself, he gave his charge the best of care.
He took her for a little outing every day to a near-by lot where she
could graze, being careful to keep a stout rope attached to her,
although they walked to and from the recreation ground side by side.
Derry painted a little picture of the pair as he saw them returning from
a jaunt. Gus's arm was lovingly thrown around the neck of the gentle
creature, and her Texas horns were adorned with a wreath of brown-eyed
Susans woven by Cory.
It remained for Mrs. Jenkins to christen the creature.
"'Cowslip,'" she declared triumphantly, "'cause she just slipped in."