Part 2
There came another day which was even more exciting for the two children than when the milking machine was put into the big red barn. This story is really about that day. Eben was then ten years old and Nancy seven. Their father and mother had gone for the day to a county fair. The two children were to be alone all day, which made up for not going to the fair. The children had long since eaten the cold dinner their mother had left for them. They had done all their chores too. Nancy had gathered the eggs and Eben had chopped the kindling and brought in the wood. They had fed the baby chickens and given them water. Then they had gone to the woods for an afternoon climb over the big rocks and a wade in the brook. Now they were waiting for their father and mother to come back. They had been waiting for a long time, for it was seven o’clock. The last thing their mother had called out as she drove off behind the two old farm horses was, “We’ll be back by five o’clock, children.”
What could have happened? “Eben,” said Nancy, “we’d better eat our own supper and get something ready for Father and Mother. I guess I’ll try to scramble some eggs.”
“Go ahead,” answered Eben. “But we’re not the ones I’m worrying about—nor Father and Mother either. It’s those poor cows.”
“Oh! the cows!” cried Nancy. “And the poor Little Sisters! They’ll be so hungry.” Both children ran to the door. “Just listen to them,” said Eben. “They’ve been waiting in the barn for over an hour now. I certainly wish Father would come.” From the big red barn came the lowing of the restless cattle. “I’m going to have another look at them,” said Eben. “Come along, Nancy.”
The two children peered into the big dark barn. The unmistakable cow smell came to them strong in the dark. Stretching down the whole length was stall after stall, each holding an impatient cow. The children could see the restless hind feet moving and stamping; they could see the flicking of many tails; they could feel the cows pulling at the stanchions. On the other side were the stalls of the Little Sisters. They too were moving about wildly. Over above it all rose the deafening sound of the plaintive lowings. By the door stood the gasolene engine. It was attached to a pipe which ran the whole length of the great barn above the cows’ stalls. Eben’s eyes followed this pipe until it was lost in the dark.
“Moo-oo-oo,” lowed the cow nearest at hand, so loud that both children jumped. “Poor old Redface,” said Nancy. “I wish we could help you.” “We’re going to,” said Eben in an excited voice, “See here, Nancy. We’re going to milk these cows!” “Why, Eben Brewster, we could never do it alone!” Nancy’s eyes went to the gasolene engine as she spoke. “We’ve got to,” said Eben. “That’s all there is about it.”
So the children began with trembling hands. They lighted two lanterns. “I wish the cows would stop a minute,” said Nancy. “I can’t seem to think with such a racket going on.” Eben turned on the spark of the engine. He had done it before, but it seemed different to do it when his father wasn’t standing near. Then he took the crank. “I hope she doesn’t kick tonight,” he wished fervently. He planted his feet firmly and grasped the handle! Round he swung it, around and around. Only the bellowing of the cows answered. He began again. Round he swung the handle; around and around. “Chug, chug-a-chug, chug, chug, chug-a-chug, chug,” answered the engine. Nancy jumped with delight. “You’re as good as a man, Eben,” she cried.
“Come now, bring the lantern,” commanded Eben. Nancy carried the lantern and Eben a rubber tube. This tube Eben fastened on to the first faucet on the long pipe between the first two cows. This rubber tube branched into two and at the end of each were four hollow rubber fingers. Eben stuck his fingers down one. He could feel the air pull, pull, pull. “She’s working all right, Nancy,” he whispered in a shaking voice. “Put the pail here.” Nancy obeyed. Eben took one bunch of four hollow rubber fingers and slipped one finger up each udder of one cow. Then he took the other bunch and slipped one finger up each udder of the second cow. The cows, feeling relief was near, quieted at once. “I can see the milk,” screamed Nancy, watching a tiny glass window in the rubber tube. And sure enough, through the tube and out into the pail came a pulsing stream of milk. Squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt. In a few minutes the two cows were milked and the children moved on to the next pair. Nancy carried the pail and Eben the rubber tube which he fastened on to the next faucet. And in another few minutes two more cows were milked. So the children went the length of the great red barn, and gradually the restless lowings quieted as pail after pail was filled with warm white milk.
“I wouldn’t try the separator if it weren’t for the poor Little Sisters,” said Eben anxiously as they reached the end of the barn. “They’ve got to be fed,” said Nancy. “But I can’t lift those pails.” Slowly Eben carried them one by one with many rests back to the separator by the gasoline engine. He took the strap off one wheel and put it around the wheel of the separator. “I can’t lift a whole pail,” sighed Eben. Taking a little at a time he poured the milk into the tray at the top of the separator. In a few minutes the yellow cream came pouring out of one spout and the blue skimmed milk out of another. In another few minutes the calves were drinking the warm skimmed milk. “There, Little Sisters, poor, hungry Little Sisters,” said Nancy, as she watched their eager pink tongues.
Eben turned off the engine. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do the final hand milking,” he said. “I wonder if we’d better turn the cows out?” Before Nancy could answer both children heard a sound. They held their breath. Surely those were horses’ feet! Cloppety clop clop clop cloppety clop clop clop. Up to the barn door dashed the old farm horses. From the dark outside the children heard their mother’s voice, “Children, children, are you there? The harness broke and I thought we’d never get home.” Carrying a lantern apiece the children rushed out and into her arms. “Here, Eben,” called his father. “You take the horses quick. I must get started milking right away. Those poor cows!” The children were too excited to talk plainly. They both jabbered at once. Then each took a hand of their father and led him into the great red barn. There by the light of the lanterns Andrew Brewster could see the pails of warm white milk and yellow cream. He stared at the quiet cows and at the Little Sisters. Then he stared at Eben and Nancy. “Yes,” cried both children together. “We did it. We did it ourselves!”
THE SKY SCRAPER
The story tries to assemble into a related form many facts well-known to seven-year-olds and to present the whole as a modern industrial process.