The Boar-Pig Page #2

"The Boar-Pig" is a short story by Hector Hugh Munro, better known by his pen name, Saki. Set in Edwardian England, it explores themes of social status, hypocrisy, and the absurdity of human behavior. The story revolves around a somewhat humorous and ironic encounter at a country estate, where characters grapple with both personal egos and societal expectations, culminating in an unexpected and ironic twist. Munro's sharp wit and keen observation of social dynamics shine through, making this tale a clever commentary on the complexities of human nature and societal norms.

• Short story

								

piece, or, perhaps, it ought to be something in French.  Henri Quatre’s
address to his soldiers is the only thing I really know in that
language.”

“If you will go and fetch some one to drive that animal away I will give
you something to buy yourself a nice present,” said Mrs. Stossen.

Matilda came several inches lower down the medlar tree.

“That is the most practical suggestion you have made yet for getting out
of the garden,” she remarked cheerfully; “Claude and I are collecting
money for the Children’s Fresh Air Fund, and we are seeing which of us
can collect the biggest sum.”

“I shall be very glad to contribute half a crown, very glad indeed,” said
Mrs. Stossen, digging that coin out of the depths of a receptacle which
formed a detached outwork of her toilet.

“Claude is a long way ahead of me at present,” continued Matilda, taking
no notice of the suggested offering; “you see, he’s only eleven, and has
golden hair, and those are enormous advantages when you’re on the
collecting job.  Only the other day a Russian lady gave him ten
shillings.  Russians understand the art of giving far better than we do.
I expect Claude will net quite twenty-five shillings this afternoon;
he’ll have the field to himself, and he’ll be able to do the pale,
fragile, not-long-for-this-world business to perfection after his
raspberry trifle experience.  Yes, he’ll be quite two pounds ahead of
me by now.”

With much probing and plucking and many regretful murmurs the beleaguered
ladies managed to produce seven-and-sixpence between them.

“I am afraid this is all we’ve got,” said Mrs. Stossen.

Matilda showed no sign of coming down either to the earth or to their
figure.

“I could not do violence to my conscience for anything less than ten
shillings,” she announced stiffly.

Mother and daughter muttered certain remarks under their breath, in which
the word “beast” was prominent, and probably had no reference to Tarquin.

“I find I have got another half-crown,” said Mrs. Stossen in a shaking
voice; “here you are.  Now please fetch some one quickly.”

Matilda slipped down from the tree, took possession of the donation, and
proceeded to pick up a handful of over-ripe medlars from the grass at her
feet.  Then she climbed over the gate and addressed herself
affectionately to the boar-pig.

“Come, Tarquin, dear old boy; you know you can’t resist medlars when
they’re rotten and squashy.”

Tarquin couldn’t.  By dint of throwing the fruit in front of him at
judicious intervals Matilda decoyed him back to his stye, while the
delivered captives hurried across the paddock.

“Well, I never!  The little minx!” exclaimed Mrs. Stossen when she was
safely on the high road.  “The animal wasn’t savage at all, and as for
the ten shillings, I don’t believe the Fresh Air Fund will see a penny of
it!”

There she was unwarrantably harsh in her judgment.  If you examine the
books of the fund you will find the acknowledgment: “Collected by Miss
Matilda Cuvering, 2s. 6d.”
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes