The animals looked rather tired but settled down contentedly
in the front-garden of No. 3.
Mrs. Pugsley, hearing their voices, came to the door.
"Why, Willum, I was just making ready to come out with you to go and see
them."
"My tender dear," he said with emotion, "would I let you be taken miles in
this heat to see the finest pigs ever littered? No. 'Tis not for my wife to
go to see pigs, 'tis for pigs to come to see my wife. Here they be. That's
Spion Kop, the big black one--called because 'tis the highest mountain in
America and he's to make the highest price. The pink one is Square Measure,
for he'll eat his own size in meal any day. That's Diadem--no, it's not;
Diadem lost--I should say Diadem's lost to us." Uncle Billy lifted his hat
reverently. "The ginger one is Comrade--a fine name."
"Why, 'tis a little sow."
"And what better comrade than a blessed female, my loving dear, and who'd
know that better than me?"
"Don't you go mixing me up with the pigs, Willum; I won't have it. What's
the name of that perky black one?"
"Mount Royal," said Uncle Billy. "I'm a KING'S man and like to respect they
set over me. Royal just means one of the KING'S family."
The parade was dismissed; the herd returned to its home and Uncle Billy
paid the cost of wear and tear.
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