How those pigs did squeal, while they impatiently waited for the breakfast which was so very long in coming!
"They're nearest, father," said Corry. "Hadn't we better stop that noise, first thing we do?"
"You and Port go for them."
They dug away manfully at that drift, or, rather, at the hole they meant to make through it, while the grown-up shovellers toiled in the direction of the barnyard-gate.
"Corry," said Port, "don't you think this is pretty hard work for Sunday morning?"
"Those pigs don't know any thing about Sunday. The cows don't either. They get hungry, just the same."
"I s'pose it's all right."
"Right! You trust father for that. He says the Lord made Sunday, and the Lord sent the snow, and we needn't worry about it. The Lord wants all his cattle fed regularly."
"Did your father say that?"
"Yes, I heard him saying it to aunt Judith."