"Come and see my pigs!" shouted Donald, who had run ahead and was
looking into the pen.

Four white, fat Berkshire pigs lay in the straw, lazily rolling their
little eyes toward their friend and feeder. A succession of grunts
served for conversation.

"I put in fresh straw every day," said Donald, "so my pigs can keep
themselves clean. And they have a patent trough to eat out of."

"I thought farmers in the West let their pigs run in the woods," said
Uncle Robert.

"We had a lot of razorbacks for a while, but they didn't pay," said
Donald. "Our Berkshires make nice pork."

"How warm the sun is getting!" said Uncle Robert as they turned away
from the pigpen.

"The wind is from the southwest," said Donald, looking at the weather
vane on top of the barn. "It always gets warmer when the wind is from
that direction."

"Uncle," said Susie, "before we begin to plant the seeds let's go and
see my lambs."

"You go ahead, and I'll get some salt for the sheep," said Donald. "They
always run to me when they see me coming with a pan. They know what that
means."