“Now dese pigs of your’n, dey will be sweet eatin’ and no danger in carryin’ germs of toomerkolosis in the meat. We will keep the swill clean and feed ’em onny what makes fer big lusty hogs,” promised the eloquent maid-of-all-work.
“I read in a book on stock raising, that pigs should never have swill fed them,” suggested Janet. “And you spoke of cleaning their sty once a week to keep it clean. The book says every pig-pen should have a sunken bath with fresh water in it daily so the pigs can bathe. It states that pigs are the cleanliest of all animals if they are given the chance to wash and eat as they like. It mentions the wild boars—how they bathe in pools many times during the course of the day, and prefer nuts or acorns to any other food.”
Rachel stood so amazed at hearing that a pig would take a bath if given the opportunity, that she unconsciously dropped the hammer. Unfortunately it struck on a pet bunion and made Rachel sit down on the ground and hold her injured joint while she rocked to and fro with the pain.
Then she got up and snarled angrily, while she shook a fist at the innocent porkers: “Dat settles it! Yoh fix your own pen, you squeelin’ critters!” and away she went to the house.
When Natalie joined Janet at the pig pen and heard how Rachel blamed the pigs for dropping the hammer on her inflamed joint, Natalie laughed and said, wisely: “She was peeved, Janet, because you knew something about pigs that she had never heard of before. I’ve learned that Rachel loves to be referred to for information when it touches anything she had down south. She considers pigs a personal line that she excels in, and such a surprise as having pigs yearn for a bath was too much for her.”
The fence had been reinforced and Janet now stood looking in at the pen. Natalie watched her for a few moments and then said: “What are you thinking of?”
“I was wondering if we could sink a porcelain tub in the yard where my pigs could bathe whenever they liked. I’d want them to have every modern convenience, you know.”
The way Janet said this made Natalie laugh. But she said: “They are still shut up in the shed. I’d suggest that we let them out and give them their breakfast before we decide on porcelain tubs and open plumbing.”
“If you will get the feed, Natalie, I’ll open the door and catch them as they come out. I think as they are so fond of bathing I will wash their little faces to make them feel better.”
Giggling to herself but not feeling experienced enough in the matter of raising a pig-family to say that washing their faces was a luxury that was taxable in various ways, Natalie went for the breakfast. She returned in time to see her best friend sprawled out in front of the shed-door, and three lively little pigs running and jumping over her prostrate form.