“Nancy,” said Miss Grey severely, “you know it is against rules to talk in lesson time. Be quiet.”
“But I can’t really, Miss Grey,” said Nancy, craning her neck to get a better view of the culprit; “he’s poking up the potatoes like anything. Andrew will be so cross. You’d better just let us go and chase him back again.”
The excitement had now risen so high that Miss Grey felt this would really be the best plan, for attention to lessons seemed impossible, and soon the four children were rushing helter-skelter across the garden in pursuit of Antony. With a frisk of his tail and a squeak of defiance he led the chase in fine style, choosing Andrew’s most cherished borders. What a refreshment it was, after the tedium of French verbs and English history, and what a pity when Antony, after a brave resistance, was at length hustled back into his sty!
Whether the door was insecure, or not too carefully fastened after this, remains uncertain; but it is a fact that these pig-chases came to be of pretty frequent occurrence, and always happened, by some strange chance, during school hours. The cry of, “Pig out!” and the consequent rush of children in pursuit, at last reached such a pitch that both Miss Grey and the much-tried Andrew made complaint to the vicar. Miss Grey declared that discipline was becoming impossible, and Andrew that there would not be a “martal vegetable in the garden if Master David’s pig got out so often.” Then the vicar made a rule to this effect:
“If David’s pig is seen in the garden again, it goes back that same day to Farmer Hatchard.”
The vicar’s rules were not things to be disregarded, and his threats were always carried out. David and Ambrose might have been seen with a large hammer and nails very busy at the pig-sty that afternoon, and Antony’s visits to the garden ceased, until one unlucky occasion when David was away from home, and it fell out in the following manner:—
In the cathedral town of Nearminster, ten miles from Easney, lived Pennie’s godmother Miss Unity Cheffins, and it was Mr and Mrs Hawthorn’s custom to pay her an annual visit of two or three days, taking each of the four elder children with them in turn. It was an occasion much anticipated by the latter, but more for the honour of the thing than from any actual pleasure connected with it, for Miss Unity was rather a stiff old lady, and particular in her notions as to their proper behaviour. She was fond of saying, “In my time young people did so and so,” and of noticing any little failure in politeness, or even any personal defect. She was a rich old lady, and lived in a great square house just inside the Cathedral Close; it was sombrely furnished, and full of dark old portraits, and rare china bowls and knick-knacks, which last Miss Unity thought a great deal of, and dusted carefully with her own hands. Amongst the many injunctions impressed upon the children, they were told never to touch the china, and there were indeed so many pitfalls to be avoided, that the visit was not by any means an unmixed pleasure to Mrs Hawthorn. The children themselves, however, though they missed the freedom of their home, and were a little afraid of the upright Miss Unity, managed to extract enjoyment from it, and always looked enviously upon the one of their number whose turn it was to go to Nearminster.
And now the time had come round again, and it was David’s turn to go, but there was one drawback to his pleasure, because he must leave the pig. Who could say that some careless hand might not leave the door of the sty open or insecurely fastened during his absence? Then Antony’s fate would be certain, for Andrew was only too eager to carry out the vicar’s sentence of banishment, and was on the watch for the least excuse to hurry the pig back to the farm.
After turning it over in his mind, David came to the conclusion that he could best ensure Antony’s safety by placing him under someone’s special care, and he chose Nancy for this important office.
“You will take care of him, won’t you?” he said, drawing up very close to her and fixing earnest eyes upon her face, “and see that his gate is always fastened.”