landlord--the children's father, you understand--had had a
little talk about pigs in general, and these piglings in particular. And
so mamma knew more about them than Max and Dolly had any idea of.

_How_ pleased they were when they woke the next morning to think that
they were really going out for a little walk--out into the sweet fresh
air again, after all these weary dreary weeks in the house. And it was
really a very nice day; there was more sunshine than had been seen for
some time, so that at two o'clock the children were all ready--wrapped
up and eager to start when their mother peeped into the nursery to call
them.

[Illustration]

At first the feeling of being out again was so delicious it almost
seemed to take away their breath, and they could not think of anything
else. But after a few minutes they quieted down a little, and walked on
with their mother, one at each side.

"We kept our promise, mamma," said Dolly, "we didn't look out of our
windows at all this morning. Nurse let us look out of the night nursery
one for a little--it's turned the other way, so we couldn't see the
pigs."

"But we'll _have_ to see them in a minute," said Max, "when we come out
of this path we're close to the gate of the big field, you know, mamma."

"I know," said mamma, "but I want to turn the other way--down the little
lane, for before we go to the field to look at the pigs, I want to speak
to Farmer Wilder a moment."

A few minutes brought them to the farm, and just as they came in sight
of it, Mr. Wilder himself appeared, coming towards them. Max and Dolly
started a little when they first saw him; something small and black was
trotting behind him--could it be one of the piglings? Their heads were
full of little black pigs, you see. No, as he came nearer, they found it
was a small black dog--a new one, which they had never seen before.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilder," said their mother, "that's your new dog--Max
and Dolly have not made acquaintance with him yet. 'Nigger,' you call
him? He's a clever fellow, isn't he?"

"A bit too clever," replied the farmer. "He's rather too fond of
meddling. Yesterday afternoon he got into the big field where we'd just
turned out all the little black pigs, and he was chasing and hunting
them all the time."

"They'll not get fat at that rate," said the children's mother, smiling.
"What a lot of them there are--twelve, didn't you say, yesterday?"

"Yes--a dozen--nice pigs they are too,"