"That's rubbish," said Max, "it _couldn't_ be."

"Listen," said mamma; "promise me that neither of you will look out of the window to-morrow morning before you see me. Then if it is really a fine mild day, the doctor says you may both go a little walk."

"_Oh_, how nice!" interrupted the little prisoners. "And I will take you myself," their mother went on. "Immediately after your dinner--about two o'clock will be the best time. And we will see if we can't settle the question of the thir--no, I had better not say how many--of the little black pigs, in a satisfactory way."

Mamma smiled at the children--her smile was very nice, but there was a little sparkle of mischief in her eyes too. And _I_ may tell _you_, in confidence, though she had not said so to Max and Dolly, that that afternoon she had pa.s.sed Farmer Wilder's when she was out walking with their father, and had stood at the gate of the very field which the children saw from the nursery window, where the little black pigs were gambolling about. And Farmer Wilder had happened to come by himself, and he and his landlord--the children's father, you understand--had had a little talk about pigs in general, and these piglings in particular. And so mamma knew more about them than Max and Dolly had any idea of.

_How_ pleased they were when they woke the next morning to think that they were really going out for a little walk--out into the sweet fresh air again, after all these weary dreary weeks in the house. And it was really a very nice day; there was more sunshine than had been seen for some time, so that at two o'clock the children were all ready--wrapped up and eager to start when their mother peeped into the nursery to call them.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

At first the feeling of being out again was so delicious it almost seemed to take away their breath, and they could not think of anything else. But after a few minutes they quieted down a little, and walked on with their mother, one at each side.

"We kept our promise, mamma," said Dolly, "we didn't look out of our windows at all this morning. Nurse let us look out of the night nursery one for a little--it's turned the other way, so we couldn't see the pigs."

"But we'll _have_ to see them in a minute," said Max, "when we come out of this path we're close to the gate of the big field, you know, mamma."

"I know," said mamma, "but I want to turn the other way--down the little lane, for before we go to the field to look at the pigs, I want to speak to Farmer Wilder a moment."

A few minutes brought them to the farm, and just as they came in sight of it, Mr. Wilder himself appeared, coming towards them. Max and Dolly started a little when they first saw him; something small and black was trotting behind him--could it be one of the piglings? Their heads were full of little black pigs, you see. No, as he came nearer, they found it was a small black dog--a new one, which they had never seen before.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilder," said their mother, "that's your new dog--Max and Dolly have not made acquaintance with him yet. 'n.i.g.g.e.r,' you call him? He's a clever fellow, isn't he?"

"A bit too clever," replied the farmer. "He's rather too fond of meddling. Yesterday afternoon he got into the big field where we'd just turned out all the little black pigs, and he was chasing and hunting them all the time."

"They'll not get fat at that rate," said the children's mother, smiling.

"What a lot of them there are--twelve, didn't you say, yesterday?"

"Yes--a dozen--nice pigs they are too," said the farmer, "perhaps it would amuse the children to see them--black pigs are rare in these parts."

He turned towards the field, Max, Dolly and their mother following.

"Mamma," said Max, eagerly, "did you hear? There's only twelve."

"But I saw _thirteen_," said Dolly.

"Yes," said mamma. "You were right as to the number of pigs, Max, but Dolly was right as to the number of black creatures she counted, for n.i.g.g.e.r was there. So you were wrong in your _counting_, Max, and Dolly was wrong in the number of pigs, and so--"

"Both were right and both were wrong," cried the children together, "like the people who quarrelled about the shield!"

"Just fancy!" said Dolly.

"It _is_ queer!" said Max.

And when they got to the gate and stood looking at the pigs--I think Dolly preferred keeping the gate between her and them--they counted again, and this time there were only twelve! For n.i.g.g.e.r was standing meekly at his master's heels, having been whipped for his misdemeanours of the day before.

"Any way, mamma," said Dolly, as they made their way home again after a pleasant little walk, "it shows how silly it is ever to _quarrel_, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Max agreed.

And you may be sure mamma was _quite_ of the same opinion!

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[Ill.u.s.tration]

Right Hand And Left

An old friend had come to see the children's mother. They had not met for several years, and the visitor was of course interested in seeing all the little people.

So mamma rang the bell for all five to come down from the nursery. Lily and Belle, being the two eldest, came first. Lily was eleven, Belle's ninth birthday was just pa.s.sed. They were followed by their two brothers, Basil and George, who were only seven and five, and Baby Barbara, a young lady of two. They were a pleasant-looking little party, and their kind-faced new friend asked many questions about them, as each was introduced to her by name.

The children did not care very much for her remarks as to whom each of them was like, for she spoke of relations most of them were too young to remember, or had scarcely ever heard of, as she was an elderly lady.

But the two older girls at least, listened with all their ears to one or two little things their own dear mother herself said about them.

"Lily," she said, as she drew forward the fair-haired little girl, "is already quite my right hand."

Lily's eyes sparkled with pleasure, but Belle grew rather red, and turned away. She was not the least like Lily, her hair was dark and cut short round her head, for she had had a bad illness not long ago.

The stranger lady had quick eyes.

"And Belle?" she said, kindly. "You can't have two right hands of course. But I've no doubt she is a helpful little woman too, in her way."

"Oh, yes!" said her mother, "she is. And she is getting on well with her lessons again, in spite of having been so put back last year."

"And," said the old lady--who had noticed the rather sullen look on Belle's little brown face--"I hope the two sisters love each other dearly, besides being a pair of extra hands to their mother."

Lily smiled back in reply.

"Yes," she said, "I am sure we do."

[Ill.u.s.tration: They were a pleasant-looking little party]

Soon after, their mother sent them all upstairs again. Nurse had come down to fetch Baby, and the two boys trotted off together. Lily took Belle's hand as they got to the foot of the stairs.

"Isn't she a nice lady?" she said, for Lily was feeling very pleased just then with herself and everybody else--I must say she was very seldom a cross little girl, but she was perhaps rather too inclined to be pleased with herself--"and didn't you like," she went on, "what mamma said of us two, to her?"

"No," said Belle, roughly, pulling herself away from her sister. "I don't want to be counted a clumsy, stupid, left hand. I don't wonder you're pleased, you always get praised."

"Oh, Belle!" said Lily. "I really don't think you need be so cross about it. You know you're younger than I."

But Belle would not answer, and all the rest of the afternoon she remained very silent and gloomy, looking, to tell the truth, as if that strange invisible little "black dog," that we have all heard of, I think, had seated himself comfortably upon her shoulders, with no intention of getting off again in a hurry.