"I shall be all the more certain to get the sovereign, or two
sovereigns," said Henry to David, the only person whom he could find
to listen to him, "if Sam is gone; and everyone will be caring about
me."
"And then you'll give it to the pig," said David.
"Oh yes, to be sure. You will grow into a pig yourself if you go on
that way, David."
However, David, partaking the family distrust of Hal's birds-in-the-
bush, and being started on the subject of the hoard, ran up to Sam,
who was learning his lessons by way of something to do, and said, "If
you go to London, Sam, may I have your sixpence on Monday for the
pig?"
"I don't know that I am going."
"But if you do--or we sha'n't get the pig."
"I don't care."
"Don't you care if we don't get the pig?"
"No. Be off with you."
David next betook himself to his eldest sister, who was trying to
write to her father, and finding such a letter harder and sadder work
than that to Ida Greville, though no one teased her about writing,
blots, or spelling.
"If you go to London, Susie," said he, in the very same words, "may I
have your sixpence on Monday for the pig?"
"Oh, Davie, don't be tiresome!"
David only said it over again in the same words, and put his hand
down on her letter in his earnestness.
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