"Children!" he said, "Here is something for you in my handkerchief. Guess what it is; but don't touch."
The handkerchief looked as if something very heavy was in it; and we guessed all sorts of things, but in vain.
At last Papa let us feel, and my sister grasped it rather roughly; but withdrew her hand quickly, with five or six sharp pricks.
"Oh! it is a nasty hedgehog," cried she; "look how my fingers are bleeding!"
"Not a nasty hedgehog," I said, "but a curious nice creature; where did you get it, Papa?"
"It was given to me this morning for you," he replied; "It will live in the garden; and you must sometimes give it a little milk, and it will do very well; and perhaps become quite tame."
The little creature, when placed on the grass, did not curl itself up and appear affrighted, but looked about him, and ran quickly to and fro. We brought some milk out in a saucer, but he could not manage to get his nose over the side; so we made a little pond of the milk on the grass, and he dipped his black snout into it, and then sucked it up greedily.
This hedgehog soon became very tame; when we took him up in our hands, he did not curl up in afright, but let us look at his feet, and touch and pat his curious little pig's face. He helped himself to what he liked best in the garden; and we never found that he rooted up anything, or did the slightest damage; he liked the milk which we gave him daily; and when we were playing on the grass, he used to run about us, as if he liked our company.
We had been told that we should never be able to keep a hedgehog; that they always climbed over the walls, and escaped to the fields and hedges.
But although we did not in any way confine Pricker, he never attempted to leave us, being apparently quite content with his run of the kitchen garden, flower garden and house; for we sometimes carried him into the kitchen, and up stairs into the nursery, where he would roll himself up into some snug corner, and remain apparently asleep for an hour or more.