Then she thought of the cows left unmilked, and listened to them stirring uneasily in the yard.

She rose, at last, and stole forth.

She could not rid herself of the thought that they would suffer.

She knew what the dull ache in the full breasts of a mother was, and she could not let them stand at the bars all night moaning for relief.
The mosquitoes had gone, but the frogs and katydids still sang, while over in the west Venus shone.

She was a long time milking the cows; her hands were so tired she had often to stop and rest them, while the tears fell unheeded into the pail.