I go out among the horses and cows, and stop to watch the hens pecking at their food.

This is a happy place, and I hope my dear Miss Laura will live to enjoy it many years after I am gone.
I have very few worries.

The pigs bother me a little in the spring, by rooting up the bones that I bury in the fields in the fall, but that is a small matter, and I try not to mind it.

I get a great many bones here, and I should be glad if I had some poor, city dogs to help me eat them.
I don't think bones are good for pigs.
Then there is Mr.Harry's tame squirrel out in one of the barns that teases me considerably.

He knows that I can't chase him, now that my legs are so stiff with rheumatism, and he takes delight in showing me how spry he can be, darting around me and whisking his tail almost in my face, and trying to get me to run after him, so that he can laugh at me.
I don't think that he is a very thoughtful squirrel, but I try not to notice him.
The sailor boy who gave Bella to the Morrises has got to be a large, stout man, and is the first mate of a vessel.