Chapter 2 1.before breakfast

"Where did Daddy go with the axe?" Fern asked her mother as they cleared the table for breakfast. "To the pigsty," replied Mrs. Arable. "A few piglets were born last night." "I don't understand why he needs an ax," continued Fern, who was only eight years old. "Oh," said her mother, "one of them was a little man. It grew so small and weak that it had no value left. So your father decided to destroy it." "Kill it?" Fern screamed. "You mean kill it? Just because he's smaller than the others?" Mrs. Arable put a jar of cheese on the table. "Don't yell, Fern!" she said. "Your dad was right. That pig would have died anyway."

Fern pushed the chair out of the way and ran out the door.The grass is wet, and the dirt exudes the breath of spring.By the time Fern catches up to her dad, her sneakers are all soaked. "Please don't kill it!" she whimpered. "It's not fair!" Mr. Arable stopped. "Fern," he said softly, "you should learn self-control." "Self-control?" cried Fern. "It's a matter of life and death! You're talking about self-control!" Tears rolled down Fern's cheeks.She grabbed the handle of the ax and tried to wrest it from her father.

"Fern," said Mr. Arable, "I know more about pigs than you do. A poor pig is hard to keep. Now you must let me go!" "But it's not fair," cried Fern. "Would the pig want to be born small, would he? If I was born small, would you kill me?" Mr. Arable smiled. "Of course not," he said, looking down lovingly at his daughter. "But it's different. A little girl is one thing, a skinny pig is another." "I don't see any difference," replied Fern, still holding on to the handle of the axe. "This is the scariest case I've ever heard of!"

Something strange came over Mr. John Arable's face.He looked like he was going to cry too. "Okay," he said. "You go home first. When I get home, I'll bring that little pig back. I'll let you bottle feed him like a baby. Then you'll understand what a trouble a little pig can be. " Half an hour later, Mr. Arable returned home with a cardboard box under his arm.Fern was upstairs changing her sneakers.Breakfast was set on the kitchen table, and the room was filled with the smell of coffee, bacon, wet plaster, and wood smoke wafting from the stove. "Put it on her chair!" said Mrs. Arable.Mr. Arable put the carton on Fern's seat.Then he washed his hands at the sink and dried them with the towel on the roller by the sink.

Fern went downstairs slowly.Because she cried just now, her eyes were still red.As she approached her chair, the cardboard box began to shake and there was a scratching sound inside.Fern looked at her father.Then she lifted the lid of the box.It was the newborn piggy who was looking at her from inside.It is white.The morning sun made its ears pink. "He's yours," said Mr. Arable. "You saved him from death. May God forgive my folly." Fern looked intently at the little pig. "Oh," she complimented softly. "Oh, look at him! He's gorgeous." She closed the lid carefully.She kissed first her father and then her mother.Then she lifted the lid again and lifted the piglet up to her face.At this time, her brother Avery walked in.Avery is ten years old.He was fully armed—an air rifle in one hand, and a wooden dagger in the other.

"What's that?" he asked. "What did Fern get?" "She has a visitor for breakfast," said Mrs. Arable. "Avery, go wash your hands and face!" "Let me see it!" Avery said, putting down his gun. "You say the poor little thing is a pig? It's just a miniature replica of a pig—he's not as big as a white mouse." "Go wash and eat, Avery!" said his mother. "The school bus is coming in half an hour." "Can I have a piggy too, Dad?" Avery asked. "No, I only give the piggy to the early risers," said Mr. Arable. "Fern got up at dawn to stop the injustice in the world. As a result, she now has a pig. Of course, he is very small, but it is a pig anyway. This Just goes to show what can happen if a person can get out of bed quickly. Let's have dinner!"

But Fern won't eat until her piglets have had their milk.Mrs. Arable found a baby's bottle and teat.She poured the warm milk into the bottle and put the nipple on before handing the bottle to Fern. "Give him breakfast!" she said. A minute later, Fern was sitting on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, holding her little baby on her lap, and started teaching him how to drink from the bottle.Although this little pig is so small, he has a good appetite and is a quick learner too. The horn of the school bus sounded on the road. "Run!" ordered Mrs. Arable, lifting the piglet from Fern and placing a donut in her hand.Avery hurriedly grabbed his gun and another donut.

The children ran to the side of the road and got on the school bus.In the car, Fern paid no attention to the others.She just sat there looking out the car window, thinking what a wonderful world it was, and how lucky she was to have a pig.By the time the car drove to school, Fern had already named her baby, the prettiest name she could think of. "Its name is Wilbur," she murmured to herself. When the teacher asked her in class, "Fern, what's the name of the capital of Pennsylvania?", she was still thinking about the little pig. "Wilbur," answered Fern absently.The students giggled.Fern blushed.