ПЕРЕВИДИТЕ В КОСТВЕНУЮ РЕЧЬ Where039;s Papa going with the ax?"fern asked

ПЕРЕВИДИТЕ В КОСТВЕНУЮ РЕЧЬ
Where's Papa going with the ax?"fern asked her mother at the table during Breakfast.
"Going to the barn," said Mrs. Arabl. "Several pigs were born last night."
"I don't understand why he needs an ax," continued fern, who was only eight years old.
"Well," said mother. "One of the pigs is short. Very small and weak, and it is no use to us. So your father decided to end it."
"To end it?"screamed fern. "You mean to kill her? Just because she's smaller than the others?"
"Don't shout, fern!"said Mrs. Arable. "Your father is right. Pigs will probably have to die anyway."
Fern pushed a chair aside and ran outside. The grass was wet and the earth smelled of spring. Fern's sneakers were wet, and after a while she caught up with her father. "Please don't kill him!"she cried. "It's not fair", Mr. Arable stopped.
"Fern, "he said softly," you must learn to control yourself. "
"Keep your hands to yourself?"screamed fern. "It's a matter of life and death, and you're talking about running yourself." Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she grabbed an axe and tried to pull it out of her father's hands.
"Fern," said Mr. Arable, I know more about raising pigs than you do. A weakling brings trouble. Now get out of here!"
"But it is unfair, cried fern. "A pig couldn't help but be born small, could it? If only I was very little at
birth, would you kill me?"
Mr. of Arable smiled. "Of course not," he said, looking at his daughter with love. "It is quite another. A girl is one thing, and a pig is a stunted other"
"I don't see the difference. "fern answered, still hanging on the axe. "This is the worst case of injustice I've ever heard. "
A strange look covered the face of John Arable. It seemed that he almost expected himself to cry.
"Well," he Said. "You go back to the house, and I'll bring the Shorty when I get home. I'll let you put it in a haze of hay like a baby. Then you will see what the problem might be with this pig."
When Mr. Arable returned to the house half an hour later, he was carrying a box under his arm. Fern was upstairs changing shoes. The kitchen table was set for Breakfast and the room smelled like coffee, bacon, damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.
Put him on the chair!"said Mrs. Arable. Mr. Arabl put the box down in fern's place. Then he went to the sink and washed his hands and dried them with a towel.
Fern walked slowly down the stairs. Her eyes were red with tears. When she walked up to her chair, the box chattered and there was a scratch sound. Fern looked at her father. Then she opened the lid of the box. There, inside, looking at her, was a newborn piggy. He was white. The morning light shining through the ears, turning them pink.
"It's yours". said Mr. Arable. "Saved from premature death. And can and well, my God, forgive me for this stupidity."
Fern could not take her eyes from the tiny pigs. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh. Look at him! It's absolutely real."