This was touching a sore point. The Doctor had been a little remiss on the subject of the children’s ownership of their pets. He was nettled by this accusation.
“My dear, when I say a thing I mean it. I was about to add, though, that if I give you the entire proceeds of the pigs I shall expect you to attend to feeding them until they are big enough to be turned in with the drove.”
“I thought the mother fed them.”
“Well, the mother pig has to be fed.”
“Do you really, truly, mean it, Father?”
“Truly.”
Chicken Little forgot the late unpleasantness. “Oh, goody, let’s call Katy back and tell her!”
Katy was not so far away as might have been anticipated. Her wrath was dissipating also.
Dr. Morton lingered to help them a few moments and to satisfy himself that they could not do themselves any damage that a bath and the wash tub could not repair, then left them once more to their own resources.
By four o’clock they had all but one of the missing pigs safely stowed in the coop. They were very 140tired and hot, and decided to save the joy of hunting for the last pig for Ernest and Sherm in the evening.