The “Old Gal” continued to be unhappy, with only the cat to feed. Accordingly, one morning Bettesworth announced to me—

“I bought two little pigs last night.”

“Oh,” I said. “Where did you get 'em?”

“Ol' Dame Skinner's … I wanted to ast—if you'd be a friend to me, sir, and lend me half a sov'reign?”

“All right. How much did you give for them?”

“A guinea. She got more for the others. But these wa'n't the best. They bin picked, all excep' the darlin's. They got the darlin's theirselves. Matt Brixton up here wanted one of 'em—she wouldn't let he 'ave 'n, though. But when I bought one off her las' night, she says, 'Why don't ye 'ave the other, Fred?' ‘Ah!’ I says, 'I would, but I en't got the money.' ‘They'll do better together,' she says. An' that's right—so they will. So I brought 'em 'ome. My ol' cat, she was asleep in the lodge. Some o' that litter I cut up 'ere, ye know—it's as dry an' smells as sweet …! Very often, if we can't find the cat, we've looked in the pigsty lodge an' there she bin, curled up asleep. She was there las' night.