"Naow, Jerry, don't git mad. When I'm a-dealin' with a neighbor I like to tell him the truth, an' mos' allus I do tell him the truth. But there's times when it comes jes a little hard to tell him _all_ the truth, an' this here is one o' them times. Naow, Jerry, a caow that sucks herse'f is jes as good as any other caow pervidin' you don't let her suck herse'f."
He went back into the stable and came out with a wire contraption dangling from his hand.
"You jes fasten this here little muzzle on her nose an' she won't suck herse'f no more. When she's a-grazin' it falls away off'n her nose and lets her eat, an' when she tries to suck herse'f it's there. You jes put that on her an' she won't give you no more trouble. I'll stand back o' what I said that she gives good milk an' lots of it. Judy an' the baby'll take on flesh fast when they git to drinkin' that good milk."
Warmed by the glow of Uncle Sam's genial personality, Jerry had to smile.
"Why didn't you gimme it yestiddy, along with the rope an' halter?"
"Waal, Jerry, I won't say I didn't know you'd be back after it."
The winter after she was born was a hard one with unusually frequent cold spells. In Scott County the weather is never very cold for long periods. Most of the time it is dull and cloudy, with dismal rains and deep, sticky mud underfoot. Sometimes, however, the wind sweeps icily from the north, freezes the mud, and sends the thermometer for a night or so down to zero.
In the house in the hollow the Blackfords had been protected from gales; but now they knew all the changes of the wind. Perched shakily on the top of the ridge, the flimsy little house rocked and strained before the raging northwesters and piercing northeasters. The loose-fitting window sashes rattled; the doors stirred uneasily. The bits of old rag carpet laid upon the floor rose in waves as the wind billowed under them. The unceiled house, no snugger than a wagon shed, let in wind and cold everywhere. The wind fluttered the towels over the wash bench and rattled the saucepans that hung on the wall beside the stove.
On cold, windy mornings, when Jerry got up to light the fire, the house was no warmer than the out of doors. The water bucket was frozen. The milk in the pans was crusted with ice. Cold boiled potatoes left over from the day before were frozen into rocks and eggs were cracked open. The slop bucket on the floor in the corner was frozen solid and the bucket sprung from the force of the expanding ice.