"I was thinking you might like a baby pig," Mr. Hildreth informed her. "There's one in the last litter that isn't getting a fair chance. He's a runt and crowded out. If you want to take him and bring him up on a bottle, you can have him for your own."
"I'll take him," said Sarah quickly. "I can learn how to feed him, can't I? And he can sleep with me—or at least in my room—I knew a girl who had a little puppy and he slept in her doll's bed. Thank you ever so much, Mr. Hildreth."
So it was arranged that Sarah was to have her pig in the morning and she and Mr. Hildreth parted excellent friends.
She did not go back to the house but, instead, started off down the road over which, she knew, Warren and Richard, Rosemary and Shirley, must come. She had walked perhaps half a mile, when she saw them.
Sarah became unaccountably shy. She walked more and more slowly and, reaching Rosemary, who was ahead, she found she had nothing to say.
"Hello, dear," Rosemary greeted her, wondering why Sarah had changed her mind and come to meet them. "Do you feel better?"
"Come back and walk with me, Sarah," said Warren pleasantly, for he had determined to put Sarah at her ease about the grain bins.
"A fuss like that is nothing to worry about," he had told Richard, "and I don't like to see a kid unhappy over such trifles."
Sarah waited till the other three were a little ahead and then she slipped a confiding hand into Warren's.
"I told Mr. Hildreth," she whispered, "and he wasn't cross one bit; and I'm going to have a baby pig for my own and bring it up on a bottle."