"Nancy _always_ forgets," said David, "wrong things and right things
too."

Mrs Hawthorn was silenced, for this was strictly true.

"I don't know what to make of David," she said to her husband
afterwards. "I would ask you to let him have the pig back, but I don't
think he ought to have it while he shows this unforgiving spirit."

"Let him alone," said the vicar. "Leave it to time."

So David was left alone; but time went on and did not seem to soften his
feelings in the least, and this was at last brought about by a very
unexpected person.

One morning Miss Unity, who had now been staying some time at Easney,
went out to take a little air in the garden: it was rather damp under
foot, for it had rained in the night, but now the sun shone brightly,
and she stepped forth, well protected by over-shoes and thick shawl,
with the intention of taking exercise for exactly a quarter of an hour.

From the direction of the Wilderness she heard shouts and laughter which
warned her of the children's whereabouts, and she turned at once into
another path which led to the kitchen-garden.

"How Mary does let those children run wild!" she said to herself, "and
Pennie getting a great girl, too. As for Miss Grey, she's a perfect
cipher, and doesn't look after them a bit. If they were _my_
children--"

But here Miss Unity's reflections were checked. Lifting her eyes she
saw at the end of the narrow path a low shed which looked like a
pig-sty; by it was a plank, raised at each end on a stone, so as to form
a rough bench, and on this there crouched a small disconsolate figure.
It was bent nearly double, and had its face buried in its hands, so that
only a rough shock of very light hair was visible; but though she could
not see any features Miss Unity knew at once that it was David mourning
for his pig.

Her first impulse was to turn round and go quickly away, for she had
gathered from what she had heard of the affair that he was a very
naughty, sulky little boy; as she looked, however, she saw by a slight
heaving movement of the shoulder that he was crying quietly, and her
heart was stirred with sudden pity:

"It's a real grief to the child, that's evident, though it's only about
a pig," she said to herself, and, yielding to another impulse, she
walked on towards him instead of going back. But after all it was a
difficult situation when she got close to him, for she did not know what
to say, although she felt an increasi