are you going to do, uncle?" she said; "and what are those funny things in your hands?"
"Toe-clippers," he replied; "and I am going to examine the sheeps' hoofs. You know we've had warm, moist weather all through July, and I'm afraid of foot rot. Then they're sometimes troubled with over-grown hoofs."
"What do you do if they get foot rot?" asked Miss Laura.
"I've various cures," he said. "Paring and clipping, and dipping the hoof in blue vitriol and vinegar, or rubbing it on, as the English shepherds do. It destroys the diseased part, but doesn't affect the sound."
"Do sheep have many diseases?" asked Miss Laura. "I know one of them myself—that is the scab."
"A nasty thing that," said Mr. Wood, vigorously; "and a man that builds up a flock from a stockyard often finds it out to his cost."
"What is it like?" asked Miss Laura.
"The sheep get scabby from a microbe under the skin which causes them to itch fearfully, and they lose their wool."
"And can't it be cured?"
"Oh, yes! with time and attention. There are different remedies. I believe petroleum is the best."
By this time we had got to a wide gate that opened into the pasture. As Mr. Wood let Miss Laura go through and then closed it behind her, he said, "You are looking at that gate. You want to know why it is so long, don't you?"
"Yes, uncle," she said; "but I can't bear to ask so many questions."
"Ask as many as you like," he said, good-naturedly.
