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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
9
It
was
on
this
subject:
An
old
lady
had
an
Alderney
cow,
which
she
looked
upon
as
a
daughter.
You
could
not
pay
the
short
quarter
of
an
hour
call
without
being
told
of
the
wonderful
milk
or
wonderful
intelligence
of
this
animal.
The
whole
town
knew
and
kindly
regarded
Miss
Betsy
Barker’s
Alderney;
therefore
great
was
the
sympathy
and
regret
when,
in
an
unguarded
moment,
the
poor
cow
tumbled
into
a
lime-pit.
She
moaned
so
loudly
that
she
was
soon
heard
and
rescued;
but
meanwhile
the
poor
beast
had
lost
most
of
her
hair,
and
came
out
looking
naked,
cold,
and
miserable,
in
a
bare
skin.
Everybody
pitied
the
animal,
though
a
few
could
not
restrain
their
smiles
at
her
droll
appearance.
Miss
Betsy
Barker
absolutely
cried
with
sorrow
and
dismay;
and
it
was
said
she
thought
of
trying
a
bath
of
oil.
This
remedy,
perhaps,
was
recommended
by
some
one
of
the
number
whose
advice
she
asked;
but
the
proposal,
if
ever
it
was
made,
was
knocked
on
the
head
by
Captain
Brown’s
decided
“Get
her
a
flannel
waistcoat
and
flannel
drawers,
ma’am,
if
you
wish
to
keep
her
alive.
But
my
advice
is,
kill
the
poor
creature
at
once.”
Miss
Betsy
Barker
dried
her
eyes,
and
thanked
the
Captain
heartily;
she
set
to
work,
and
by-and-by
all
the
town
turned
out
to
see
the
Alderney
meekly
going
to
her
pasture,
clad
in
dark
grey
flannel.
I
have
watched
her
myself
many
a
time.
Do
you
ever
see
cows
dressed
in
grey
flannel
in
London?
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