A rustling in the bushes startled her, but she hoped it might be Grim. It was not, however; but it was one of the Motherkin's pigs; and, knowing that Monsieur Piggie had to go home some time or other, she thought the safest course would be to follow him.
Alas! Mr. Pig was no gallant; he had not even common courtesy. He did not so much as grunt agreeably, but squealed in the most piggish manner; for he, too, was hungry, and he led poor Laura right through a swamp, covering her with mud.
As they emerged from the swamp, Laura thought she saw the cottage far away under the hill before them; and as Piggie ran squealing on, she kept up the pursuit. Into the woods again and out through the bushes, till a nice hedge showed they were near home; and now Mr. Piggie ran off to his sty, and Laura, creeping through the hedge and up the garden-walk with downcast face, went up to the open door, longing to throw herself into the Motherkin's arms and ask her pardon for all her bad behavior.
No one was to be seen. Not a sound came from the cottage. The door stood open, and on the table was a loaf of brown bread and a pitcher of milk.
Laura knew not what to do. She was ravenously hungry, but she was in too dirty a condition to touch food. She looked in and out and around, but no one was there. She mounted the ladder in hopes yet of finding the Motherkin. Her room was as she had left it, with the exception of a note pinned on the muslin curtain of the window. It read thus:
"Little Lady Laura,—Necessary and urgent business compels me to leave home for a day or two. My good, kind, faithful Grim has fallen and lamed himself, and I must attend to various matters which he always has done for me. You are quite safe here—no one can molest you; but you will be obliged to prepare your own food, feed the chickens and pigs, milk the cow, and keep the cottage tidy. Do this bravely, little Laura, and you will be rewarded. Remember that a lady is none the less a lady for being able to take care of herself and others, and also remember that the faithful creatures who are dependent upon you will suffer if you neglect them. Animals they are, but God made them and requires us to be kind to them."
This was all the note said, except that "The Motherkin" was written underneath as signature.
CHAPTER IV.
If Laura had been astonished before, she was still more so now, and so much so that she really could not collect her thoughts. She felt like crying, but she could not; she felt angry, but there was no way of venting anger; so she just sat still on the floor awhile and counted the nails in the boards. This had the happiest effect, for, after she had gone over and over the nails, a few quiet thoughts came to her.