The lightning flashed again. “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9” I counted.
“Nine miles,” Grandma reminded me.
Milk was next. Milk from old Kick Cow. As Grandma milked her, Kick Cow, turned
and looked mean, right at me. I was scared. She looked so big.
ZIP went the lightning. “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8” I counted.
“Eight miles, child,” Grandma croaked. “Now we have to get chocolate and sugar
and flour from the dry shed.”