"Why, there's ten on 'em--all fine likely pigs except this one, and they
do that push and struggle and fight there's no chance for him."

"Why do you call it the Antony pig?" pursued David with breathless
interest.

"Well, I don't rightly know why or wherefore," said Mrs Hatchard; "it's
just a name the folks about here always give to the smallest pig in the
litter."

"Do you think Farmer Hatchard knows?" inquired David.

"Well, he might," said Mrs Hatchard, "and then again he mightn't. But
I tell you what, Master David, if yonder little pig lives, and providin'
the vicar has no objections, I'll give him to you. You always fancied
pigs, didn't you now?"

David was still leaning fondly over the basket, and made no reply at
first. It took some time to fully understand the reality of such a
splendid offer.

"Come, Davie," said Miss Grey, "we must say good-bye and go and find the
others."

Then he got up, and held out his hand gravely to Mrs Hatchard.

"Good-bye," he said. "Thank you. I hope you'll accede in rearing the
Antony pig. I should like to have it very much, if father will let me."

David went home from the farm hardly able to believe in his own good
fortune, but according to his custom he said very little.

The matter was discussed freely, however, by the other children, and it
was so interesting that it lasted them all the way back. Would the pig
live? they wondered, and if it did, would their father let David have
it? Where would it live? What would David call the pig if he did get
it? This last inquiry was put by Ambrose, and he felt quite rebuked
when his brother replied scornfully, "Antony, of course."

But there was some demur on the part of the vicar when he was informed
of the proposed addition to his live stock.

"I don't like to disappoint you, my boy," he said, "but you know Andrew
has plenty to do already. He has the garden to look after, and the
cows, and my horse. I don't think I could ask him to undertake anything
more."

Poor little David's face fell, and his underlip was pushed out
piteously. He would not have cried for the world, and none of the
children ever thought of questioning what their father said; so he stood
silent, though he felt that the world without the Antony pig would be
empty indeed.

"Do you want it very much, Davie?" said the vicar, looking up from his
writing at the mournful little face.

"Yes, father, I do," said David, and with all his resolutio