“Once upon a time, in the History of the Harwood Family, news came to the house that one of the Madame Pigs had died in the night, and left behind her a poor little baby-pig, which had no one to pity and take care of him. So the family finished their breakfast, in a great hurry, and started off for the sty, or, rather, for the sake of ears polite, we will say the pig parlor.”
“Oh, Jem, don’t be a goose, go on,” impatiently cried Kit.
“There, sure enough, was found a white-skinned, pink-nosed little piggie, looking very disconsolate, ‘whilst the salt tear-drops streamed down piggie’s eyes.’ Papa said we must bring her up by hand, and from that hour, Piggie Pink, as we called her, was our special pet, and the lawn her play-ground. Alice and Grace spent all their money in ribbons for her. You may imagine she was a beauty, she kept herself very clean, and Gracie tied pink ribbons about her neck and a pink sash around her waist, and a rosette upon her tail, every birthday or festival. We used to coax Mamma to let us bring Piggie Pink into the house, but to that she would never consent. One Fourth of July, every one but Mamma had gone to the village to see the goings-on there—even the servants had gone, for Mamma said she would enjoy the quiet, and not feel lonely. She seated herself upstairs, with a book, when the thought came into her head, ‘I will first go downstairs and make the children a nice loaf of their favorite citron cake; they will come home very hungry, and enjoy it so much.’ So the nice loaf of cake was made and put in the tin box in the pantry, and the kind Mamma sat down again to her story. Once or twice, she fancied she heard funny little noises; but as she wasn’t afraid of ghosts, and knew Ranger would keep off robbers, she paid no attention to the noise at first; at last her curiosity was aroused, and off she started, to find out what company she was entertaining. The parlor was empty, and so was the library, but as she stepped through the open door of the dining-room, she found her pantry door open,—the tin cake-box she had put on the shelf was open, too, on the floor,—outside of it were two little white legs and a little quirled tail, with a pink rosette on it, and over the edge of the tall cake-box hung a pink sash, whilst two fore paws and a pink head were buried in her nice, soft warm cake. Mamma was sorry to have no cake to offer us when we got home, but she said she had had a very hearty laugh. Piggie Pink had seemed so unconscious that she was not doing the proper thing, and never once offered to run away. That’s all my story, says Peter Parley.”
“Jem,” asked Rosie, who had quite forgotten her recent adventure, “what is a ghost?”
“Well, really, my little maid, you bother me there,” said Jem, thoughtfully, “I should say it was a—a—”
“Isn’t it really a kind of a live nothing, Jem?” asked Charlie Leonard.
“Well, yes, Charlie,” Jem answered. “I should say you had just about got the idea.”
The children next bent their steps to the house, where Mamma gave them a nice lunch of bread and fruit, and then sent the little ones off with the nurse, for a nap to rest them before the great frolic of the day.
The older boys threw themselves into the hammocks, under the shady trees, while Mrs. Harwood, in the cool library, read some of Hans Andersen’s bewitching tales to the little girls, who sat dressing their dolls in their sea-side suits, to be in readiness for the shore dinner.