“It's as warm as toast here in winter, ma'am,” said the young man. “Water never freezes here.”
At this moment such a din arose that we could scarcely hear him. Mary in a great fright hid her face in her mother's arms, and I paused half-way down the steps to look about me.
CHAPTER XIII
PIGS, COWS AND CHICKENS
There were several pig-pens. As the young man explained to us later, it does not do to put pigs of different sizes together. The big ones impose on the little ones, and push them away from the feeding-troughs, so all Farmer Gleason's pigs were in assorted sizes.
They were the rudest pigs I ever saw, but of course I have not seen many live ones. I have seen plenty of dead ones in Boston. Their manners had plenty of repose, but these creatures were yelling, jumping, pushing, snorting and charging each other as if they were crazy. Each pen wanted to be fed first.
Mary soon grew calm, then she began to laugh and scream, for the pigs excited her. She and her mother stood on one side, while Denno went up- and down-stairs with more feed. He got some milk from a hogshead—and the milk almost set them wild. They pushed and slobbered till each pig's head was covered with white, and even the man had to laugh, though he said he saw their greedy goings-on twice every day of his life.
The man had to do his work, and could not stay in the barn cellar, so Mrs. Denville and Mary and I followed him up-stairs.
Little Mary was wiping her eyes, and I heard her promising herself many visits to the pigs in future.
When we got to the barn floor, Denno ran up the ladder where Thummie had gone, and began to throw down hay.
Mrs. Denville stepped along the floor, and called to Mary, “Come here, dear, and see the horses.”