"That old Mrs. Pig wouldn't hurt you for anything. She was just trying
to get acquainted."

"Yes?" replied Mary Jane doubtfully, "but you see I'm not used to
getting acquainted that way. I 'spect she wouldn't hurt me, but she
didn't _act_ like she wouldn't hurt me," she added.

Grandfather threw back his head and laughed at that. "No, she didn't;
you're right, Mary Jane! She acted pretty bad. But you shouldn't be
here alone before you get used to our family."

Grandmother explained about the 'phone calling her back. "And I left
the receiver hanging, I came so quickly," she added laughingly. "I
guess I'll go back now and hang it up."

"Then I'll show Mary Jane around myself," said Grandfather firmly.
"She's more important than work, so there!" He set her down beside
him, took her hand snugly in his own (and it feels pretty good to have
somebody hold your hand when everything is strange, you know that
yourself), and they started off.

First they went into the barn where they saw Mrs. Pig, grunting still,
but standing very meekly in her own corner; and eleven little pigs that
grunted such cunning, squeaky little grunts. Mary Jane wasn't afraid
of them for one minute. They weren't dirty as Mary Jane supposed pigs
always were, not a bit dirty; they were tidy and neat and their little
round sides shone like silk.

"Oh, I like _them_, Grandfather!" she exclaimed. "Could I play with
them someday?"