That gave me an idea so I scrambled out to the orchard, picked up six apples and brought them back, and leaning over the fence called out, “Here, piggy, piggy, piggy. Here are some swell apples. Say ‘please’ and you can have them.”
But they ignored me, not only not saying ‘please’ but probably weren’t even saying ‘thank you’ in pig language to their mother.
So I tossed my six apples over into the hog lot where they rolled up to the open door of Addie’s apartment, and that was the end of her six babies’ afternoon lunch. She shuffled her heavy body to her feet, swung it around and started in on those apples like she was terribly hungry.
“Well, what next?” I thought and wondered if Old Bentcomb, my favorite white hen, who always laid her egg in the nest up in our haymow, had laid her egg yet today. It was too early to gather the eggs, but I could get hers if she had it ready.
Into the barn and up the ladder I went and there she was, with her pretty white neck and head and her long red, bent comb hanging down over her right eye like a lock of brown hair kinda drops down over the right eye of one of Circus’ many sisters, who even though she is kinda ordinary-looking, doesn’t act like she thinks I am a dumbbell like some girls do that go to the Sugar Creek school—and maybe are, themselves.
“Hi, Old Bentcomb,” I said, but she sorta ducked her head down and ignored me.
“Pretty soft life,” I said, “you don’t have to worry about taking care of a baby sister while your parents are away.”
Down the ladder I went and shuffled back across the barnyard thinking maybe it would be a good idea to peek in under the blind of the window to see if Charlotte Ann was still asleep.