The Abilities of Mrs. Ransford

They had met quite suddenly round the corner of the implement shed. For the moment they stood disconcerted, while the agitated hen clucked alarm at her offspring. The pig, squealing in a high treble, was standing with snout twitching and front feet apart, a picture of idiotic confusion. Perhaps the hen, with the superior feminine knowledge of her age, understood something of the situation, and appreciated the young porker's inability. Anyway, she took the initiative in aggression, and, vainly struggling to cover her rather riotous brood with outspread wings, cackled furiously and prepared for the onslaught which secretly she knew was not forthcoming.

The porker's mind seemed to be in a whirl of doubt, for he looked vainly from side to side to find some adequate means of escape. His sense did not carry him sufficiently far to prompt him to turn tail and bolt for safety. He just stood there and continued his helpless baby squealing. This was all the old hen needed to drive her to extremities. Realizing his weakness she gave one fluttering spring, scattering her chicks in all directions, pecked the pig's nose violently, turned something like a somersault as she landed on the ground, gathered herself together, and incontinently fled, leaving her brood to care for themselves. Thus the pig was left looking after her with an expression in its silly eyes that suggested to the girl nothing so much as an amazed wonder as to what the fuss was all about.