answered David. "I should sell it to the
farmer."

"Well; but _he'd_ have it killed," pursued the relentless Nancy.

This was unanswerable.

"Never mind. I want a pig, and I shall save up my money," said David
sturdily.

David's bank was a white china house which stood on the nursery
mantel-shelf; it had a very red roof with a hole in it, and into this he
continued for some time to drop all his pennies, and halfpennies, and
farthings with great persistency, and a mind steadily fixed on the pig.
After all, however, he got it without spending any of his savings, and
this is how it happened:--

One fine morning at the end of September the children were all ready for
their usual walk with Miss Grey--all, that is, except Dickie, who, being
still a nursery child, went out walking with Nurse and baby. The other
four, however, were ready, not only as regards hats and jackets, but
were also each provided with something to "take out," which, in their
opinion, was quite as indispensable. Penelope therefore carried a
sketching book, Ambrose a boat under one arm, and under the other a
camp-stool in case Miss Grey should be tired, Nancy two dolls and a
skipping-rope, and David a whip and a long chain. At the end of this
was the terrier dog Snuff, choking and struggling with excitement, and
giving vent to smothered barks. Snuff would willingly have been loose,
and there was indeed not the least occasion for this restraint, as it
would have been far easier to lose David than the dog; he knew well,
however, that children have their little weaknesses in these matters,
and submitted to his bondage with only a few whines of remonstrance when
the company had once fairly started.

His patience was a good deal tried on this occasion, as well as that of
the children, for it seemed as though Mrs Hawthorn never would finish
talking to Miss Grey in the hall. At last, however, she said something
which pleased them very much:

"I want you to go to Hatchard's Farm for me, and ask about the butter."

Now Hatchard's Farm was the place of all others that the children
delighted to visit. It was about two miles from Easney, and the nicest
way to it was across some fields, where you could find mushrooms, into a
little narrow lane where the thickly growing blackberry brambles caught
and scratched at you as you passed. This lane was muddy in winter, and
at no time in the year did it appear so desirable to Miss Grey as to the
children; but