"A pig!" cried Father. "What would you do with a pig in our town? We are not in the country. Where would you keep a pig?"
"Oh, I could build a little pen for him in our yard. Look, let me have that one, he is so pink and pretty and clean."
"Ha! So you want that pig, do you?" asked the farmer. The boy and his father and sisters were paying a visit to the farm.
"Yes, I want a pig very much!" the boy said. "And I think I'd like that one," and he pointed straight at Squinty. Poor Squinty ran and tried to hide under the straw, for he knew the boy was talking about him.
"Oh, see him run!" cried the boy. "Yes, I think he is the nicest pig in the lot. I want him. Has he any name?"
"Well, we call him Squinty," the farmer said. "He has a funny, squinting eye."
"Then I'll call him Squinty, too," the boy went on. "Please, Father, may I have that little pig?"
"Well, I don't know," said his father slowly, scratching his head. "A pig is a queer pet. I suppose you might have him, though. You could keep him in the back yard. Yes, I guess you could have him, if Mr. Jones will sell him, and if the pig will behave. Do you think that little pig will be good, Mr. Jones?" asked the father of the farmer man.
"Well, yes, I guess so," answered the farmer. "He has run away out of the pen a couple of times, but if you board up a place good and tight, I guess he won't get out."
"Oh, I do hope he'll be good!" exclaimed the boy. "I do so want a little pet pig, and I'll be so kind to him!"