"I mean to have a missionary pig," Cyril said to Don as they walked home together. "I'll take good care of it and feed it well, so it will be very fat, so that I can get ten dollars for it; and every cent of it shall go to the missionaries. And I'll make more besides for them out of my garden and my chickens."
"So will I," said Don; "but I shan't let 'em have all the money."
"How much, then?"
"I don't know yet."
"I'm afraid it won't do for all of us to have pigs," said Ada, overhearing the talk of her little brothers.
"No," laughed Zillah; "we'd overstock the market and bring down the price."
"I don't see what I can do then, except give some of my pocket-money; unless mother will pay me for doing without butter and tea and sugar, as some of the children do that the missionary told about."
"That's too hard a way," said Cyril; "you won't catch me trying that: I'll work for the heathen, but I won't starve for 'em."
"It would be hard; but we ought to deny ourselves," Ada returned half regretfully.