28
Poor Cecco
“I suppose really we should have paid him something on account,” said Virginia May. “But we never seem to have any money!”
The Money-Pig kept quiet, which was rather mean of him, for every one knew he had all the money there was.
Bulka had fallen on his nose in the onion bed, which was really fortunate, for he had just opened his mouth to cry when the wagon tipped over, but, lying face downward on the soft earth, he couldn’t do it. Now he picked himself up and repeated “Hurrah!” instead.
A little way off, by the edge of the potato patch, they could see the big stone.
