The next morning Philip came early, dressed in the outing clothing he had worn the previous summer, and aside from a slight paleness seemed very much the same as when he left. Elnora met him on the old footing, and for a week life went on exactly as it had the previous summer. Mrs. Comstock made mental notes and watched in silence. She could see that Elnora was on a strain, though she hoped Philip would not. The girl grew restless as the week drew to a close. Once when the gate clicked she suddenly lost colour and moved nervously. Billy came down the walk.
Philip leaned toward Mrs. Comstock and said: “I am expressly forbidden to speak to Elnora as I would like. Would you mind telling her for me that I had a letter from my father this morning saying that Miss Carr is on her way to Europe for the summer?”
“Elnora,” said Mrs. Comstock promptly, “I have just heard that Carr woman is on her way to Europe, and I wish to my gracious stars she'd stay there!”
Philip Ammon shouted, but Elnora arose hastily and went to meet Billy. They came into the arbour together and after speaking to Mrs. Comstock and Philip, Billy said: “Uncle Wesley and I found something funny, and we thought you'd like to see.”
“I don't know what I should do without you and Uncle Wesley to help me,” said Elnora. “What have you found now?”
“Something I couldn't bring. You have to come to it. I tried to get one and I killed it. They are a kind of insecty things, and they got a long tail that is three fine hairs. They stick those hairs right into the hard bark of trees, and if you pull, the hairs stay fast and it kills the bug.”
“We will come at once,” laughed Elnora. “I know what they are, and I can use some in my work.”
“Billy, have you been crying?” inquired Mrs. Comstock.
Billy lifted a chastened face. “Yes, ma'am,” he replied. “This has been the worst day.”
“What's the matter with the day?”
“The day is all right,” admitted Billy. “I mean every single thing has gone wrong with me.”
“Now that is too bad!” sympathized Mrs. Comstock.
“Began early this morning,” said Billy. “All Snap's fault, too.”
“What has poor Snap been doing?” demanded Mrs. Comstock, her eyes beginning to twinkle.
“Digging for woodchucks, like he always does. He gets up at two o'clock to dig for them. He was coming in from the woods all tired and covered thick with dirt. I was going to the barn with the pail of water for Uncle Wesley to use in milking. I had to set down the pail to shut the gate so the chickens wouldn't get into the flower beds, and old Snap stuck his dirty nose into the water and began to lap it down. I knew Uncle Wesley wouldn't use that, so I had to go 'way back to the cistern for more, and it pumps awful hard. Made me mad, so I threw the water on Snap.”
“Well, what of it?”
“Nothing, if he'd stood still. But it scared him awful, and when he's afraid he goes a-humping for Aunt Margaret. When he got right up against her he stiffened out and gave a big shake. You oughter seen the nice blue dress she had put on to go to Onabasha!”
Mrs. Comstock and Philip laughed, but Elnora put her arms around the boy. “Oh Billy!” she cried. “That was too bad!”
“She got up early and ironed that dress to wear because it was cool. Then, when it was all dirty, she wouldn't go, and she wanted to real bad.” Billy wiped his eyes. “That ain't all, either,” he added.
“We'd like to know about it, Billy,” suggested Mrs. Comstock, struggling with her face.
“Cos she couldn't go to the city, she's most worked herself to death. She's done all the dirty, hard jobs she could find. She's fixing her grape juice now.”
“Sure!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “When a woman is disappointed she always works like a dog to gain sympathy!”
“Well, Uncle Wesley and I are sympathizing all we know how, without her working so. I've squeezed until I almost busted to get the juice out from the seeds and skins. That's the hard part. Now, she has to strain it through white flannel and seal it in bottles, and it's good for sick folks. Most wish I'd get sick myself, so I could have a glass. It's so good!”
Elnora glanced swiftly at her mother.
“I worked so hard,” continued Billy, “that she said if I would throw the leavings in the woods, then I could come after you to see about the bugs. Do you want to go?”
“We will all go,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I am mightily interested in those bugs myself.”
From afar commotion could be seen at the Sinton home. Wesley and Margaret were running around wildly and peculiar sounds filled the air.
“What's the trouble?” asked Philip, hurrying to Wesley.
“Cholera!” groaned Sinton. “My hogs are dying like flies.”
Margaret was softly crying. “Wesley, can't I fix something hot? Can't we do anything? It means several hundred dollars and our winter meat.”
“I never saw stock taken so suddenly and so hard,” said Wesley. “I have 'phoned for the veterinary to come as soon as he can get here.”
All of them hurried to the feeding pen into which the pigs seemed to be gathering from the woods. Among the common stock were big white beasts of pedigree which were Wesley's pride at county fairs. Several of these rolled on their backs, pawing the air feebly and emitting little squeaks. A huge Berkshire sat on his haunches, slowly shaking his head, the water dropping from his eyes, until he, too, rolled over with faint grunts. A pair crossing the yard on wavering legs collided, and attacked each other in anger, only to fall, so weak they scarcely could squeal. A fine snowy Plymouth Rock rooster, after several attempts, flew to the fence, balanced with great effort, wildly flapped his wings and started a guttural crow, but fell sprawling among the pigs, too helpless to stand.
“Did you ever see such a dreadful sight?” sobbed Margaret.
Billy climbed on the fence, took one long look and turned an astounded face to Wesley.
“Why them pigs is drunk!” he cried. “They act just like my pa!”
Wesley turned to Margaret.
“Where did you put the leavings from that grape juice?” he demanded.
“I sent Billy to throw it in the woods.”
“Billy——” began Wesley.
“Threw it just where she told me to,” cried Billy. “But some of the pigs came by there coming into the pen, and some were close in the fence corners.”
“Did they eat it?” demanded Wesley.
“They just chanked into it,” replied Billy graphically. “They pushed, and squealed, and fought over it. You couldn't blame 'em! It was the best stuff I ever tasted!”
“Margaret,” said Wesley, “run 'phone that doctor he won't be needed. Billy, take Elnora and Mr. Ammon to see the bugs. Katharine, suppose you help me a minute.”
Wesley took the clothes basket from the back porch and started in the direction of the cellar. Margaret returned from the telephone.
“I just caught him,” she said. “There's that much saved. Why Wesley, what are you going to do?”
“You go sit on the front porch a little while,” said Wesley. “You will feel better if you don't see this.”
“Wesley,” cried Margaret aghast. “Some of that wine is ten years old. There are days and days of hard work in it, and I couldn't say how much sugar. Dr. Ammon keeps