of a snowy dawn. She went out, gazed along the road, and returning, said, "He's not coming. Drunk last night, I expect. The snow is not enough to hinder him, surely!"
"Then we must put it off. It is only the water boiled for nothing. The snow may be deep in the valley."
"Can't be put off. There's no more victuals for the pig. He ate the last mixing o' barleymeal yesterday morning."
"Yesterday morning? What has he lived on since?"
"Nothing."
"What—he has been starving?"
"Yes. We always do it the last day or two, to save bother with the innerds. What ignorance, not to know that!"
"That accounts for his crying so. Poor creature!"
"Well—you must do the sticking—there's no help for it. I'll show you how. Or I'll do it myself—I think I could. Though as it is such a big pig I had rather Challow had done it. However, his basket o' knives and things have been already sent on here, and we can use 'em."
"Of course you sha'n't do it," said Jude. "I'll do it, since it must be done."
He went out to the sty, shovelled away the snow for the space of a couple of yards or more, and placed the stool in front, with the knives and ropes at hand. A robin peered down at the preparations from the nearest tree, and, not liking the sinister look of the scene, flew away, though hungry. By this time Arabella had joined her husband, and Jude, rope in hand, got into the sty, and noosed the affrighted animal, who, beginning with a squeak of surprise, rose to repeated cries of rage. Arabella opened the sty-door, and together they hoisted the victim on to the stool, legs upward, and while Jude held him, Arabella bound him down, looping the cord over his legs to keep him from struggling.
The animal's note changed its quality. It was not now
