"But we'll have to see them in a minute," said Max, "when we come out of this path we're close to the gate of the big field, you know, mamma."
"I know," said mamma, "but I want to turn the other way—down the little lane, for before we go to the field to look at the pigs, I want to speak to Farmer Wilder a moment."
A few minutes brought them to the farm, and just as they came in sight of it, Mr. Wilder himself appeared, coming towards them. Max and Dolly started a little when they first saw him; something small and black was trotting behind him—could it be one of the piglings? Their heads were full of little black pigs, you see. No, as he came nearer, they found it was a small black dog—a new one, which they had never seen before.
"Good morning, Mr. Wilder," said their mother, "that's your new dog—Max and Dolly have not made acquaintance with him yet. 'Nigger,' you call him? He's a clever fellow, isn't he?"
"A bit too clever," replied the farmer. "He's rather too fond of meddling. Yesterday afternoon he got into the big field where we'd just turned out all the little black pigs, and he was chasing and hunting them all the time."
"They'll not get fat at that rate," said the children's mother, smiling. "What a lot of them there are—twelve, didn't you say, yesterday?"
"Yes—a dozen—nice pigs they are too," said the farmer, "perhaps it would amuse the children to see them—black pigs are rare in these parts."
He turned towards the field, Max, Dolly and their mother following.
"Mamma," said Max, eagerly, "did you hear? There's only twelve."
"But I saw thirteen," said Dolly.