The sun's setting rays spread across the golden heads of grain. As she sat on the back porch, the quietness of the evening filled eleven-year-old Mary's soul. With head bowed on her bare knees she sat in silent reverie. Suddenly the silence was broken by a piercing cry. Something came running across the yard from the field. What could it be?

Her eyes searched the ground from where the continuous screaming came. Now as it came closer to the barn, she recognized it was one of the new piglets. In hot pursuit came Uncle Henry. Now she remembered. She had just fed the pigs. Could it be that she had forgotten to close the gate to the pig pen? Quickly she gathered her senses. She must help to catch the escapee. With a dash toward the barn she confronted the piglet as it was trying to skirt around to go under the porch steps. Cornered by Uncle Henry and by Mary, the piglet was soon lassoed, and together they placed the squealing culprit in the pen.

"This is the way the gate is locked so it can't be opened," were the only words of admonition Mary received.

Mary remembered, she had been allowed to visit the farm for two weeks on one condition. She would be obedient and not forgetful. Forgetfulness was one of her bad habits. "I will try to be more careful. No more gates left unlocked," she said to herself as she received a big hug from Uncle Henry. She knew she had been forgiven.

Next day was a busy one. She was taken into the big vegetable garden by Aunt Martha. There she was shown how to hoe, how to water, and how not to walk on young plants with careless feet.

That evening Mary was again resting on the back steps. She was lulled into day dreaming by the soft whisper of the south wind and the choir of sparrows singing in the big elm tree. She sat up with a start. She heard, then saw Jake, the collie, running after something, running right into Aunt Martha's garden. The gate was open. No, oh no! She remembered she had closed that gate. Yet there it was, wide open. Was she that forgetful?

Aunt Martha was out of the house and down the steps in a flash. Mary came trailing behind. Together they drove Jake and Mitzie, the cat, out of the newly planted garden. "Two nights in a row. How can you be so careless?" But Mary wasn't so sure that she had left the gate open. However, to make peace and to remain on the farm, Mary accepted it as her error and asked for forgiveness.

Next morning, Mary was up much earlier than usual. The night had been a fitful one. "Today, I'll do everything perfectly," she promised herself. Oops! She had spilt some milk as she poured it on her cereal. Not the best way to start the day. "I must, I must be more careful," she repeated to herself. She felt as if she were being watched and silently censured throughout the day.

As every day comes to an end, so did this one. Her quiet time had at last arrived, and no way was she going to fall into a dreamy state when she settled on the back porch. Instead she squinted her eyes almost shut and surveyed everything that had a locked gate protecting plants and animals. Then she saw it. A small figure near the chicken coop. It was crawling on the ground in the shadows. It was nearing the small coop entrance.

Quickly and quietly Mary crept toward the figure. Faster, faster before the lock could be opened...Pounce! Mary had the figure in her grasp. What a piercing scream filled the air. Mary held tight. She had the little imp who was putting her through all those trying country incidents. It was Johnny, her mischievous cousin!

Now it was Aunt Martha and Uncle Henry who came running to the rescue. It was some time before Johnny could sit comfortably again.

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