Thất bại lớn nhất của một người là anh ta không bao giờ chịu thừa nhận mình có thể bị thất bại.
Gerald N. Weiskott
ePub
A4Chapter 1: Before Breakfast
"W
here's Papa going with that ax?"said Fern to her mother as they were
setting the table for breakfast.
"Out to the hog house," replied
Mrs. Arable. "Some pigs were born last
night."
"I don't see why he needs an ax,"
continued Fern, who was only eight.
"Well," said her mother, "one of the
pigs is a runt. It's very small and weak,
and it will never amount to anything. So
your father has decided to do away with
it."
"Do away with it?" shrieked Fern."
You mean kill it? Just because it's
smaller than the others?"
Mrs.Arable put a pitcher of cream
on the table." Don't yell, Fern!"she said.
"Your father is right. The pig would
probably die anyway."
Fern pushed a chair out of the way
and ran outdoors. The grass was wet and
the earth smelled of springtime. Fern's
sneakers were sopping by the time she
caught up with her father.
"Please don't kill it! "she sobbed.
"It's unfair."
Mr. Arable stopped walking.
"Fern," he said gently," you will
have to learn to control yourself."
"Control myself?" yelled Fern.
"This is a matter of life and death, and
you talk about controlling myself." Tears
ran down her cheeks and she took hold
of the ax and tried to pull it out of her
father's hand.
"Fern," said Mr. Arable, "I know
more about raising a litter of pigs than
you do. A weakling makes trouble. Now
run along!"
"But it's unfair," cried Fern. "The
pig couldn't help being born small, could
it? If I had been very small at birth,
would you have killed me?"
Mr. Arable smiled. "Certainly not,"
he said, looking down at his daughter
with love. "But this is different. A little
girl is one thing, a little runty pig is
another."
"I see no difference," replied Fern,
still hanging on to the ax. "This is the
most terrible case of injustice I ever
heard of."
A queer look came over John
Arable's face. He seemed almost ready
to cry himself.
"All right," he said. "You go back
to the house and I will bring the runt
when I come in. I'll let you start it on a
bottle, like a baby. Then you'll see what
trouble a pig can be."
When Mr.Arable returned to the
house half an hour later, he carried a
carton under his arm. Fern was upstairs
changing her sneakers. The kitchen table
was set for breakfast, and the room
smelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster,
and wood smoke from the stove.
"Put it on her chair!" said
Mrs.Arable. Mr.Arable set the carton
down at Fern's place. Then he walked to
the sink and washed his hands and dried
them on the roller towel.
Fern came slowly down the stairs.
Her eyes were red from crying. As she
approached her chair, the carton
wobbled, and there was a scratching
noise. Fern looked at her father. Then
she lifted the lid of the carton. There,
inside, looking up at her, was the
newborn pig. It was a white one. The
morning light shone through its ears,
turning them pink.
"He's yours," said Mr.Arable."
Saved from an untimely death. And may
the good Lord forgive me for this
foolishness."
Fern couldn't take her eyes off the
tiny pig. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh, look
at him! He's absolutely perfect."
She closed the carton carefully.
First she kissed her father, then she
kissed her mother. Then she opened the
lid again, lifted the pig out, and held it
against her cheek. At this moment her
brother Avery came into the room. Avery
was ten. He was heavily armed - an air
rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the
other.
"What's that?" he demanded.
"What's Fern got?"
"She's got a guest for breakfast,"
said Mrs.Arable. "Wash your hands and
face, Avery!"
"Let's see it!" said Avery, setting
his gun down." You call that miserable
thing a pig? That's a fine specimen of a
pig, it's no bigger than a white rat."
"Wash up and eat your breakfast,
Avery!" said his mother." The school bus
will be along in half an hour."
"Can I have a pig, too, Pop?" asked
Avery.
"No, I only distribute pigs to early
risers," said Mr. Arable. "Fern was up at
daylight, trying to rid the world of
injustice. As a result, she now has a pig.
A small one, to be sure, but nevertheless
a pig. It just shows what can happen if a
person gets out of bed promptly. Let's
eat!"
But Fern couldn't eat until her pig
had had a drink of milk.
Mrs.Arable found a baby's nursing
bottle and a rubber nipple. She poured
warm milk into the bottle, fitted the
nipple over the top, and handed it to
Fern. "Give him his breakfast!" she said.
A minute later, Fern was seated on
the floor in the corner of the kitchen with
her infant between her knees, teaching it
to suck from the bottle. The pig, although
tiny, had a good appetite and caught on
quickly.
The school bus honked from the
road.
"Run!" commanded Mrs.Arable,
taking the pig from Fern and slipping a
doughnut into her hand. Avery grabbed
his gun and another doughnut.
The children ran out to the road and
climbed into the bus. Fern took no notice
of the others in the bus. She just sat and
stared out of the window, thinking what
a blissful world it was and how lucky
she was to have entire charge of a pig.
By the time the bus reached school, Fern
had named her pet, selecting the most
beautiful name she could think of.
"Its name is Wilbur," she whispered
to herself.
She was still thinking about the pig
when the teacher said: "Fern, what is the
capital of Pennsylvania?"
"Wilbur," replied Fern, dreamily.
The pupils giggled. Fern blushed.
