She had not thought of the other two until Rachel spoke. But she found Sam in the pen trying to coax David and Jonathan out of bed. He looked up when Janet cried: “Are they dead?”
“Nah, but dey sure am sick, Mis Janet!”
“Run for Ames, Sam—oh bring him at once!” cried Janet.
Frances broke another record while driving for Ames, and that amateur veterinarian came back with her to prescribe for the two pigs. Then it was learned Janet fed the pigs the unhealthy tomato vines, as well as tops of turnips and other indigestible vegetable greens. And Sam had fed them liberally after they had had one hearty breakfast from Janet.
“It’s a wonder you didn’t kill all three of ’em,” was the farmer’s comment. “If the other two got as much as Seizer did you’d had a triple funeral.” Ames laughed at his pleasantry but picked up the dead pig by one fore-leg and handed him to Sam.
“Chuck it back of the barn and cover it with manure.”
“Oh, oh! How cruel of you! I could never rest in my own grave if I ever thought of such things as that!” cried Janet, with scathing emphasis on the “I” for Ames’s especial benefit.
But the farmer laughed heartily and called her “whimsy.”
A deep grave was dug for Seizer under the sour apple tree and all the scouts who had been notified of the calamity, threw daisies and buttercups upon the box that held the last of the pig.
But a queer sound from Sue, who was again pasturing in the field, caused all the girls to run and see what was wrong. Then they learned that Sue liked the luscious grass near the fence where the bee-hives stood and the bees objecting to this trespass, would alight on and sting her. When they happened to sting on a tender spot she kicked and galloped about with the sudden pain.