Old Mr. Smullen’s black and white sow had twelve pigs. Ben heard of it, and determined to have one of them. Charlie heard him talking about it with Sally. A few days after he went to Sally, and said, “Mother, you know that money that I got for baskets the other day?”
“Yes.”
“I was going to buy some cloth, and have you make me a sail for my boat; but I mean to take the money and buy one of Mr. Smullen’s pigs for father.”
“O, Charlie, I never would do that. You know how you have been looking forward all winter long to having a sail to your boat, and how that birch-bark sail plagues you; it is always ripping out, and coming to pieces, and you have to keep making it over. Ben can buy the pig well enough.”
“But, mother, you know how good father is to me; just as good as he can be. He often lets me go over and see John, when I know he needs me at home, and got all that powder and shot; and he needs every penny to pay for the island, because he has to pay the interest to Mr. Welch, and that, you know, is just the same as paying rent. O, that’s an awful sound! The rent day is dreadful.”
“But, Charlie, it isn’t so here, and Mr. Welch is not like your old-country landlords.”
“Do let me do it, mother. I have made you a sink, and a press-board, and a rolling-pin, and a great wooden spoon, and a bread-trough; but I have never made father anything.”
“Well, Charlie, you are a good boy, and you may do as you wish.”
“Mother, you mustn’t tell him. I want to get the pig and put him in the sty before he knows anything about it.”
“I don’t see how you are going to work to leave the island, and get a pig, and he never know it.”