I so have gone goes, and the folks in the nursery was glad for food and songs. And afterwards I went more on into the woods. There was little whispers among the leaves. And there was a song in the tall fir tree-tops. And a pine tree was saying a poem. I listened listens. Then I went goes on. I saw a man coming. He did take long steps. When he was nearer come, I had seeing it was the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. I did go adown the path in a more quick way. He did have seeing of my coming. Then I did hide behind a tree. He came on. When he was near the tree he did say, “I thought I saw someone coming. Guess I was mistaken. I think I’ll take these splints for the hospital back to the mill.”
When I did hear him say that, I ran in a quick way back to the path. He did n’t see me. He was looking long looks away. Then I did give his coat-sleeve a gentle pull, and he did whistle, and he did ask me if there was needs for splints at the hospital. And I told him all in one breath how much needs there was. He had me to tell him all over again about the little chicken that did have its leg hurt. And I gave him explanations how it was Sir Francis Bacon did have his leg hurt in a real bad way, and the big folks was going to kill him, but they gave him to me for my very own because he was n’t any good any more.
And the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did have understanding, and he went goes with me to the hospital that I do have for little hurt folks, at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. While I did hold little Sir Francis Bacon, the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did fix the splints on his hurt leg in a gentle way. Then I did pray prayers for his getting well soon. Brave Horatius did bark Amen—and one of the most tall pine trees was saying a poem.
After morning’s works was done I was washing out clothes for the baby. I thought what a nice christening robe one of the baby’s dresses would make for one of the new baby pigs. The mamma had not thoughts that way. When the dress was on the line, I did go by the chicken-yard to have sees how the children of Minerva are growing. Pius VII is getting some tail-feathers. He comes to feed from my hand every day, and he likes to go to school in my little basket. He has not been for a whole week now, because the last time I took him he peeped and teacher sent us home. Next day I took Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, and they was quiet.
Last time I took them to cathedral service, Ben Jonson pecked Sir Walter Raleigh on the head. I said prayers over them for peace between them. Then I put one in a little box on one log and I put the other one in a little box on the other log. The boxes was alike. To-day I had sees of these two drinking out of the water-pan together. Peace was between them. She is a nice mother-hen that has got all her children growed up. And little Edmund Spenser was scratching for a worm near his little brown brother Oliver Goldsmith. And all Minerva’s family was growing well.
I felt satisfaction feels about it, and I sat down on a log to pick out names for the twins I am going to have when I grow up. I picked out a goodly number of names, but I could not have decides which ones. I had thinks I would wait a little time, and I had remembers it was time for me to be making another portrait of Solomon Grundy. So I went around by the pig-pen to get Solomon Grundy. I said comfort words to Aphrodite. I told her how it was I was just taking Solomon Grundy to make a portrait of him, and as how I was going to make it in the same way and in the same place as I did make her portrait quite a time ago. She grunted a short grunt and then a long grunt. Sometimes it is difficult to understand pig talk. But her next grunt—it was very plain. It was just an invitation to make Solomon Grundy’s portrait there by her side, and no needs of taking him out of the pig-pen.
I told her yes, I would make his portrait right there by her, and I did bring many brown bracken ferns after I did have the pig-pen cleaned out. Most every day I do give the pig-pen a rake-out, and bring some clean dirt from the garden. I have thinks pigs do have likes for clean places to live in. It brings more inspirations to their souls. And, too, every day Aphrodite does have likes for her feeding-trough to be scrubbed clean all over. And I have planted ferns and fleurs all around her pig-pen. It is a very nice place, with sweet smells of grass and fleurs. And Aphrodite was glad for the brushing I did give her to-day.
I’ve got a brush—a nice new brush—a good new brush. It is for to brush my pig friends. They so do need brushings. This new brush the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did get for me last time he did go to the mill town. The pigs do like the feels the new brush does make upon their backs. The clean feels it does give to them are pleasant to their souls.
After I did give her the brushing, I did get moss and cover the clean feed-trough with it. That made a nice place to sit and draw Solomon Grundy’s portrait by his mother there. I drew him lying by her side. Then I had him to stand on his feet, and I drew one of him that way. I had it almost done. There was a little noise. It was the step of someone going by. I had not knows who it was. I went on drawing Solomon Grundy’s ears and his curly tail. Then I had knows what it was. It was that chore boy come to feed the pigs—and he poured all that bucket of swill on top the moss and Solomon Grundy’s portrait and me.