straggly hair.

Angus went to the door.

"I'll meet you at the barn" he said.

While Mrs. Magill cleaned up her appearance, her husband opened sacks and dipped out meal into different containers. He was ready by the time his wife arrived, and together they carried the food to their livestock.

The hens clustered around, tripping over each other, until their grain appeared. The horses, three of them, whinnied as their bales were tossed, and the dog pranced ecstatically as it saw its meat coming.

"Where's the milk?" asked Mrs. Magill.

"Spray shed," said Angus.

"I'll get it," said Mrs. Magill.

"Better not," said Angus, "It'll be too heavy for you."

"Tosh!" said Mrs. Magill.

She fished about in her grubby dress pocket for the key and opened the door. Angus went on down the track, shaking his head and muttering something about ''stubborn old woman."

Mrs. Magill carried the buckets out into the sunlight and looked at the milk. It was white and clear.

"What a waste!" she said, "Good milk, thrown to the pigs!"

She lugged the buckets across the yard and stopped by the pigs. They kicked up a fearful din, squealing and grunting, and jostling each other in their food trough.

"Here y'are!" said Mrs. Magill, "You can have yesterday's meal, and today's, all at once!"

The pigs fought for a space to thrust their pink, hairy heads into the white milk, still squealing at each other, though it was obvious there was plenty for all of them. At the last moment, Mrs. Magill stopped tipping the second bucket and left about a third of it in the bottom.

She took the remaining milk over to the dog and filled its dish, then she looked at the last of the milk.

"I can boil it up," she said, "That'll kill the bugs. Its good milk, and we need a bit ourselves."

She went back to the house, and Angus joined her as she