ordered Joe Peabody. "Send him in here flying and turn the cows out to pasture."
"He hasn't milked!" Ethan cleared the porch steps at a single bound and burst into the kitchen, shouting this intelligence. Excitement was scarce in Ethan's life, and he enjoyed the pleasurable sensation of carrying unusual tidings, even if unpleasant. "The barn door was shut and the cows were bellowing their heads off. Not a one of 'em's been milked!"
"I want to know!" said Joseph Peabody stupidly. "Was he in bed when you came down, Ethan?"
"No, he wasn't," answered the hired man. "I thought he'd gone on out. Do you suppose something's happened to him?"
Mr. Peabody stepped to the porch and gave a quick glance at the bench where the milk pails were usually left to air and dry. They were there, just as they had been left the night before.
"I think he's cleared out!" he announced grimly. "Betty, do you know what this young scoundrel is up to?"
Betty's eyes brimmed over, and she flung herself blindly into Mrs. Peabody's arms which closed around her, though that good woman was unaccustomed to demonstrations of affection.
"There, there." She tried to soothe the girl, for Betty's convulsive sobbing really alarmed her.
