Miss Grey always felt
sure that when once David had struggled through a lesson, whether it
were the kings and queens of England, or the multiplication table, that
he would remember it if she asked him a question weeks afterwards. But
then it was a long time before he knew it--so long that it often seemed
a hopeless task. Nevertheless, if David was slow he was certainly sure,
and people had a habit of depending upon him in various matters. For
instance, when Nurse wanted to intrust the baby for a few moments to any
of the children during her absence from the nursery, it was never to the
three elder she turned, but to David, and her confidence was not
misplaced. Once having undertaken any charge or responsibility, David
would carry it through unflinchingly, whether it were to amuse the baby,
or to take care of any of the animals while their various owners were
away. It would have been impossible to him to have forgotten to feed
the dormouse for a week as Nancy did, or to have left Sappho the canary
without any water, which Pennie to her great agony of mind was once
guilty of doing.

David's animals never missed their meals, or were neglected in any way;
he was particularly proud of his sleek rabbits, which, together with a
family of white rats, lived in the barn, and certainly throve
wonderfully, if numbers mean prosperity. The biggest rabbit was called
Goliath, and it was David's delight to hold him up by the ears, in spite
of his very powerful kicks, and exhibit his splendid condition to any
admiring beholder. But though Goliath was handsome, and the white rats
numerous, their owner was not quite satisfied, for his fondest wish for
some time past had been to possess a pig. A nice little round black
pig, with a very curly tail; he would then be content, and ask nothing
further of fortune.

He thought of the pig, and hoped for the pig, and it would not be too
much to say that he dreamed of the pig. When he passed a drove of them
in the road, squeaking, pushing, grunting, and going every way but the
right, he would stand in speechless admiration. His mind was a
practical one, and did not dwell merely on the pleasure of owning the
pig itself, but also on the prospect of fattening, selling, and
realising money by it.

"You'd never be able to have it killed," said Nancy, who was his chief
confidante, "after you got fond of it, and it got to know you; you'd as
soon kill Goliath."

"I shouldn't have it killed,"