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"Who wants to buy a fine young pig of my breeding?" he asked, indicating with his finger something shapeless that struggled in a bag at his feet. A great burst of laughter greeted him. They knew them well, these pigs of Hormidas' raising. No bigger than rats, and quick as squirrels to jump the fences. "Twenty-five cents!" one young man bid chaffingly. "Fifty cents!" "A dollar!"
"Don't play the fool, Jean. Your wife will never let you pay a dollar for such a pig as that." Jean stood his ground: "A dollar, I won't go back on it." Hormidas Berube with a disgusted look on his face awaited another bid, but only got jokes and laughter. Meantime the women in their turn had begun to leave the church.
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