ing her gently, "come and look here."

He led her to the hearth, and pointed speechless to something which
looked like a small flannel bundle in a basket. As she looked at it, it
moved a little.

"Well, Davie," said she, "what is this wonderful thing? Something
alive?"

David had knelt down close to the bundle and was peering in between the
folds of the flannel with an expression of reverent awe. He looked up
gravely.

"Don't you see," he said slowly in lowered accents, "it's a little baby
pig!"

Stooping down Miss Grey examined it more closely, and found that it was
indeed a little black pig of very tender age, so closely covered up in
flannel that only its small pointed snout and one eye were visible.

"Do you suppose it's ill?" inquired David.

"I daresay it is," answered Miss Grey; "we'll ask Mrs Hatchard about it
presently."

The other children had gathered round, all more or less interested in
the invalid pig; but presently, Pennie having suggested that they should
go and see the new little calf, they ran out of the kitchen in search of
fresh excitement.

"Come along, Davie," said Ambrose, looking back from the door; "come out
and see the other pigs."

"No," said David decidedly, "I shall stop here."

He took his seat as he spoke on the corner of the settle nearest the
pig, with the evident intention of waiting for Mrs Hatchard's arrival;
he was not going to lose a chance of inquiring closely into such an
important subject.

And at last Mrs Hatchard came bustling in, cheerful, brisk, and
ruddy-faced as usual, with many apologies for her delay. Miss Grey
plunged at once into business with her, and the patient David sat
silently biding his time for the fit moment to put his questions.

"Won't you run out, little master?" said the good-natured farmer's wife,
noticing the grave little figure at last. "There's the calves to see,
and a fine litter of likely young pigs too."

"No, thank you," said David politely. "I want to know, please, why you
keep this one little pig in here, and whether it's ill."

"Oh, aye," said Mrs Hatchard, coming up to the basket and stooping to
look at the occupant, which was now making a feeble grunting noise.
"I'd most forgot it. You see it's the Antony pig, and it's that weakly
and dillicut I took it away to give it a chance. I doubt I sha'n't rear
it, though, for it seems a poor little morsel of a thing."

"How many other little pigs are there?" asked David.