He would
say I had them kennelled, if he could see my big, closed sheds, with the
sunny windows that my flock spend the winter in. I even house them
during the bad fall storms. They can run out again. Indeed, I like to
get them in, and have a snack of dry food, to break them in to it. They
are in and out of those sheds all winter. You must go in, Laura, and see
the self-feeding racks. On bright, winter days they get a run in the
cornfields. Cold doesn't hurt sheep. It's the heavy rain that soaks
their fleeces.
"With my way I seldom lose a sheep, and they're the most profitable
stock I have. If I could not keep them, I think I'd give up farming.
Last year my lambs netted me eight dollars each. The fleeces of the ewes
average eight pounds, and sell for two dollars each. That's something to
brag of in these days, when so many are giving up the sheep industry."
"How many sheep have you, uncle?" asked Miss Laura.
"Only fifty, now. Twenty-five here and twenty-five down below in the
orchard. I've been selling a good many this spring."
"These sheep are larger than those in the orchard, aren't they?" said
Miss Laura.
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