"I am no judge."
"Never see a litter o' piggies afore?"
"I suppose I have, sometime."
"Them's first-rate. Like to eat 'em?"
"Eat them!" cried Rotha. "Such young pigs?"
"Just prime now," said the man, looking at them lovingly over the fence, while grunting noses sniffing in his direction testified that the inmates of the pen knew him as well as he knew them. "Just prime; they's four, goin' on five, weeks old. Prissy's at me to give her one on 'em; and maybe I will, now you've come. I telled her it was expensive, to eat up a half a winter's stock for one dinner. I aint as extravagant as Prissy."
"How 'half a winter's stock'?" said Rotha, by way of saying something.
"Bless you, don't you see? Every one o' them fellers'd weigh two hundred by next Christmas; and that'd keep Prissy and me more'n half the winter. I s'pose you won't be here to help us eat it then?"
"Next Christmas! No," said Rotha. "I shall not be here so long as that."
"Summer's got to come first, hain't it? Well, you might be in a wuss place."