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"
Put
it
on
her
chair
!
"
said
Mrs
.
Arable
.
Mr
.
Arable
set
the
carton
down
at
Fern
’
s
place
.
Then
he
walked
to
the
sink
and
washed
his
hands
and
dried
them
on
the
roller
towel
.
Fern
came
slowly
down
the
stairs
.
Her
eyes
were
red
from
crying
.
As
she
approached
her
chair
,
the
carton
wobbled
,
and
there
was
a
scratching
noise
.
Fern
looked
at
her
father
.
Then
she
lifted
the
lid
of
the
carton
.
There
,
inside
,
looking
up
at
her
,
was
the
newborn
pig
.
It
was
a
white
one
.
The
morning
light
shone
through
its
ears
,
turning
them
pink
.
"
He
’
s
yours
,
"
said
Mr
.
Arable
.
"
Saved
from
an
untimely
death
.
And
may
the
good
Lord
forgive
me
for
this
foolishness
.
"
Fern
couldn
’
t
take
her
eyes
off
the
tiny
pig
.
"
Oh
,
"
she
whispered
.
"
Oh
,
look
at
him
!
He
’
s
absolutely
perfect
.
"
She
closed
the
carton
carefully
.
First
she
kissed
her
father
,
then
she
kissed
her
mother
.
Then
she
opened
the
lid
again
,
lifted
the
pig
out
,
and
held
it
against
her
cheek
.
At
this
moment
her
brother
Avery
came
into
the
room
.
Avery
was
ten
.
He
was
heavily
armed
-
an
air
rifle
in
one
hand
,
a
wooden
dagger
in
the
other
.
"
What
’
s
that
?
"
he
demanded
.
"
What
’
s
Fern
got
?
"
"
She
’
s
got
a
guest
for
breakfast
,
"
said
Mrs
.
Arable
.
"
Wash
your
hands
and
face
,
Avery
!
"
"
Let
’
s
see
it
!
"
said
Avery
,
setting
his
gun
down
.
"
You
call
that
miserable
thing
a
pig
?
That
’
s
a
fine
specimen
of
a
pig
it
’
s
no
bigger
than
a
white
rat
.
"
