We soon got sharp enough to flail him along with a quince stick, and we used to bring up the milkers, I expect, a good deal faster than was good for them.

After a bit we could milk, leg-rope, and bail up for ourselves, and help dad brand the calves, which began to come pretty thick.

There were only three of us children--my brother Jim, who was two years younger than I was, and then Aileen, who was four years behind him.

I know we were both able to nurse the baby a while after she came, and neither of us wanted better fun than to be allowed to watch her, or rock the cradle, or as a great treat to carry her a few steps.

Somehow we was that fond and proud of her from the first that we'd have done anything in the world for her.
And so we would now--I was going to say--but that poor Jim lies under a forest oak on a sandhill, and I--well, I'm here, and if I'd listened to her advice I should have been a free man.