downhill, and Ruby pounded along at an even trot, which
seemed to make a sort of accompaniment to David's thoughts--

To market, to market,
To buy a fat pig;
Home again, home again,
Jig a jig, jig!

it said, over and over again. "I wonder whether Antony will know me!"
thought David.

Five minutes more and the carriage stopped at the white gate, and Andrew
getting down to open it, David drove in a masterly manner up to the
front door, where Ambrose, Pennie, and Dickie were assembled to welcome
the return. Amidst the bustle which followed, while Miss Unity's
belongings were being unpacked and carried indoors under the watchful
eye of their owner, David slipped down from his perch and hurried away
towards the kitchen-garden; Antony lived there, and he would go and see
him first of all. As he ran along the narrow path, bordered with
fruit-trees, he stooped to pick up a wrinkled red apple which had
fallen. "He's _so_ fond of 'em!" thought he, as he put it in his
pocket. There was the sty, and now he should soon hear the low grunt so
delightful to his ears. All was silent, however, and he went on more
slowly, with a slight feeling of dread, for somehow the sty had a
strangely empty look about it. "He's eating," said David encouragingly
to himself; but even as he said so he stood still, quite afraid to go
any nearer. Then he called gently: "Choug, choug, choug." No sign of
life. No inquiring black snout peering over the edge. Unable to bear
the uncertainty, he rushed forward and looked into the sty.

Empty! Yes, quite empty--Antony's straw bed was there, and the remains
of some food in his trough, but no Antony!

David stood staring at the desolate dwelling for some minutes, hardly
able to believe his eyes; then with a thrill of hope he said to himself:

"He must have got out. He must be somewhere in the garden;" and he
turned round to go and search for him. As he did so, he saw a small
dejected figure coming down the path towards him with downcast face and
lagging step. It was Nancy--grief in every feature, and guilt in every
movement. One glance was enough for David; he understood it all now,
and he flushed angrily, and turned his back upon her, clenching his
fists tightly. She came slowly up and stood close to him; she was
crying.

"Oh, Davie," she said. "I am so sorry."

"Where's Antony?" said David in a muffled voice without looking at her.

"He's gone."

"Where?"

"Back to the fa