Them Notorious Pigs

"Them Notorious Pigs" is a children's novel by Lucy Maud Montgomery that tells the whimsical story of a group of mischievous pigs who escape from their farm and embark on a series of humorous adventures. As they roam the countryside, they encounter various characters and situations that lead to both trouble and unexpected moments of friendship. Through charming prose and delightful illustrations, Montgomery explores themes of freedom, community, and the joy of exploration, appealing to the imaginations of young readers.

• Short story

								
John Harrington was a woman-hater, or thought that he was, which
amounts to the same thing. He was forty-five and, having been handsome
in his youth, was a fine-looking man still. He had a remarkably good
farm and was a remarkably good farmer. He also had a garden which was
the pride and delight of his heart or, at least, it was before Mrs.
Hayden's pigs got into it.

Sarah King, Harrington's aunt and housekeeper, was deaf and crabbed,
and very few visitors ever came to the house. This suited Harrington.
He was a good citizen and did his duty by the community, but his bump
of sociability was undeveloped. He was also a contented man, looking
after his farm, improving his stock, and experimenting with new bulbs
in undisturbed serenity. This, however, was all too good to last. A
man is bound to have some troubles in this life, and Harrington's were
near their beginning when Perry Hayden bought the adjoining farm from
the heirs of Shakespeare Ely, deceased, and moved in.

To be sure, Perry Hayden, poor fellow, did not bother Harrington much,
for he died of pneumonia a month after he came there, but his widow
carried on the farm with the assistance of a lank hired boy. Her own
children, Charles and Theodore, commonly known as Bobbles and Ted,
were as yet little more than babies.

The real trouble began when Mary Hayden's pigs, fourteen in number and
of half-grown voracity, got into Harrington's garden. A railing, a fir
grove, and an apple orchard separated the two establishments, but
these failed to keep the pigs within bounds.

Harrington had just got his garden planted for the season, and to go
out one morning and find a horde of enterprising porkers rooting about
in it was, to put it mildly, trying. He was angry, but as it was a
first offence he drove the pigs out with tolerable calmness, mended
the fence, and spent the rest of the day repairing damages.

Three days later the pigs got in again. Harrington relieved his mind
by some scathing reflections on women who tried to run farms. Then he
sent Mordecai, his hired man, over to the Hayden place to ask Mrs.
Hayden if she would be kind enough to keep her pigs out of his garden.
Mrs. Hayden sent back word that she was very sorry and would not let
it occur again. Nobody, not even John Harrington, could doubt that she
meant what she said. But she had reckoned without the pigs. They had
not forgotten the flavour of Egyptian fleshpots as represented by the
succulent young shoots in the Harrington domains. A week later
Mordecai came in and told Harrington that "them notorious pigs" were
in his garden again.

There is a limit to everyone's patience. Harrington left Mordecai to
drive them out, while he put on his hat and stalked over to the
Haydens' place. Ted and Bobbles were playing at marbles in the lane
and ran when they saw him coming. He got close up to the little low
house among the apple trees before Mordecai appeared in the yard,
driving the pigs around the barn. Mrs. Hayden was sitting on her
doorstep, paring her dinner potatoes, and stood up hastily when she
saw her visitor.

Harrington had never seen his neighbour at close quarters before. Now
he could not help seeing that she was a very pretty little woman, with
wistful, dark blue eyes and an appealing expression. Mary Hayden had
been next to a beauty in her girlhood, and she had a good deal of her
bloom left yet, although hard work and worry were doing their best to
rob her of it. But John Harrington was an angry man and did not care
whether the woman in question was pretty or not. Her pigs had rooted
up his garden--that fact filled his mind.

"Mrs. Hayden, those pigs of yours have been in my garden again. I
simply can't put up with this any longer. Why in the name of reason
don't you look after your animals better? If I find them in again I'll
set my dog on them, I give you fair warning."

A faint colour had crept into Mary Hayden's soft, milky-white cheeks
during this tirade, and her voice trembled as she said, "I'm very
sorry, Mr. Harrington. I suppose Bobbles forgot to shut the gate of
their pen again this morning. He is so forgetful."

"I'd lengthen his memory, then, if I were you," returned Harrington
grimly, supposing that Bobbles was the hired man. "I'm not going to
have my garden ruined just because he happens to be forgetful. I am
speaking my mind plainly, madam. If you can't keep your stock from
being a nuisance to other people you ought not to try to run a farm at
all."

Then did Mrs. Hayden sit down upon the doorstep and burst into tears.
Harrington felt, as Sarah King would have expressed it, "every which
way at once." Here was a nice mess! What a nuisance women were--worse
than the pigs!

"Oh, don't cry, Mrs. Hayden," he said awkwardly. "I didn't mean--well,
I suppose I spoke too strongly. Of course I know you didn't mean to
let the pigs in. There, do stop crying! I beg your pardon if I've hurt
your feelings."

"Oh, it isn't that," sobbed Mrs. Hayden, wiping away her tears. "It's
only--I've tried so hard--and everything seems to go wrong. I make
such mistakes. As for your garden, sir. I'll pay for the damage my
pigs have done if you'll let me know what it comes to."

She sobbed again and caught her breath like a grieved child.
Harrington felt like a brute. He had a queer notion that if he put his
arm around her and told her not to worry over things women were not
created to attend to he would be expressing his feelings better than
in any other way. But of course he couldn't do that. Instead, he
muttered that the damage didn't amount to much after all, and he hoped
she wouldn't mind what he said, and then he got himself away and
strode through the orchard like a man in a desperate hurry.

Mordecai had gone home and the pigs were not to be seen, but a chubby
little face peeped at him from between two scrub, bloom-white cherry
trees.

"G'way, you bad man!" said Bobbles vindictively. "G'way! You made my
mommer cry--I saw you. I'm only Bobbles now, but when I grow up I'll
be Charles Henry Hayden and you won't dare to make my mommer cry
then."

Harrington smiled grimly. "So you're the lad who forgets to shut the
pigpen gate, are you? Come out here and let me see you. Who is in
there with you?"

"Ted is. He's littler than me. But I won't come out. I don't like you.
G'way home."

Harrington obeyed. He went home and to work in his garden. But work as
hard as he would, he could not forget Mary Hayden's grieved face.

"I was a brute!" he thought. "Why couldn't I have mentioned the matter
gently? I daresay she has enough to trouble her. Confound those pigs!"

       *       *       *       *       *

After that there was a time of calm. Evidently something had been done
to Bobbles' memory or perhaps Mrs. Hayden attended to the gate
herself. At all events the pigs were not seen and Harrington's garden
blossomed like the rose. But Harrington himself was in a bad state.

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