“Do you think Farmer Hatchard knows?” inquired David.
“Well, he might,” said Mrs Hatchard, “and then again he mightn’t. But I tell you what, Master David, if yonder little pig lives, and providin’ the vicar has no objections, I’ll give him to you. You always fancied pigs, didn’t you now?”
David was still leaning fondly over the basket, and made no reply at first. It took some time to fully understand the reality of such a splendid offer.
“Come, Davie,” said Miss Grey, “we must say good-bye and go and find the others.”
Then he got up, and held out his hand gravely to Mrs Hatchard.
“Good-bye,” he said. “Thank you. I hope you’ll accede in rearing the Antony pig. I should like to have it very much, if father will let me.”
David went home from the farm hardly able to believe in his own good fortune, but according to his custom he said very little.
The matter was discussed freely, however, by the other children, and it was so interesting that it lasted them all the way back. Would the pig live? they wondered, and if it did, would their father let David have it? Where would it live? What would David call the pig if he did get it? This last inquiry was put by Ambrose, and he felt quite rebuked when his brother replied scornfully, “Antony, of course.”
But there was some demur on the part of the vicar when he was informed of the proposed addition to his live stock.
“I don’t like to disappoint you, my boy,” he said, “but you know Andrew has plenty to do already. He has the garden to look after, and the cows, and my horse. I don’t think I could ask him to undertake anything more.”