In the evening he drove the
cows in. High up on Hemlock, Aaron, among his slow, thin tunes,
thought to himself: "There go the cows. Mr. Jeminy understands me;
he's a traveled man." And he played his flute harder than ever,
because Mr. Jeminy, who had seen, as Aaron thought, all Aaron had
wanted to see, breathed the airs of foreign lands, and sailed the seven
seas, was setting Aaron's cows to right, in Aaron's tumbled barn.
In the kitchen, Margaret, going to light the lamp, smiled at her
thoughts, which were timid and gay. She was happy because Mr. Jeminy,
who had seen so many elegant women, helped her with her apple jellies,
and brought her kindlings for the stove.
When the cows were milked, Mr. Jeminy came out of the barn, and stood
looking up at the sky, yellow and green, with its promise of frost. "A
cold night," he said to himself, "and a bright morning." He could hear
the wind rising in the west. "Winter is not far off," he said, and he
carried the two warm, foaming milkpails into the kitchen.
As he was eating his supper, a wagon came clattering down the road and
stopped at the door.
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