Always Mind Your Mother."Always Mind Your Mother," Said Mrs. Pig.(Page57)XVGRUNTY MEANS MISCHIEFJolly Robin and his wife told all their friends that Grunty Pig was going to teach them a lesson. The birds had many a laugh over the matter. Not till old Mr. Crow visited the orchard one day did the Robin family cease chuckling over what they called "the joke of the season.""Don't laugh too soon!" Mr. Crow croaked. "This Grunty Pig means mischief. He isn't going to teach you the sort of lesson you've been snickering about. What he intends to do is to harm you in some way."Now, nobody in Pleasant Valley couldlook gloomier than old Mr. Crow. And when he hinted darkly, in his hoarse way, that there was trouble ahead for the Robin family, he threw Jolly Robin's wife into a flutter."Oh, what does Grunty Pig mean to do to us?" Mrs. Robin quavered."I'd rather not tell you," said old Mr. Crow. "I don't want you to worry."Mr. Crow left them then. Of course he couldn't have chosen a better way to upset Mrs. Robin. Even Jolly himself had to admit after a while that he could think of nothing that seemed to cheer his wife in the least. "I'll speak to Mr. Crow again," he told his wife. "I'll ask him just what he meant."Alas! Mr. Crow couldn't tell him. The truth was that Mr. Crow had already told all he knew."I'll ask Grunty Pig himself what hemeans to do to us," Jolly then declared to his wife. "I've noticed that he digs every day at the foot of our apple tree. The next time he comes here I'll have a talk with him." So that very day Jolly put his question to Grunty Pig."What is it," he asked, "that you intend to do to us?""You'll find out later," said Grunty Pig. "I expect to be in the top of your apple tree before fall. And then—"Jolly Robin couldn't wait for him to finish. He had to laugh right out, on the spot. And his wife, who had been listening eagerly, burst into the first giggle that had passed her bill for days and days.So Grunty Pig expected to climb a tree! Mr. and Mrs. Robin gave each other a merry look. It was all too funny for words."Umph!" said Grunty Pig. "You won't laugh when I'm in your tree top.""How are you going to get up here?" Jolly Robin asked him, with a wink at Mrs. Robin. "Are you going tofly?""No!" Grunty Pig said. "No!""Then you're going toclimb," cried Mrs. Robin. And both she and her husband choked, as they pictured fat Grunty Pig scrambling up the trunk of the old apple tree."No!" Grunty Pig said. "No!""Well, well!" Jolly Robin exclaimed. "Don't be so short with your answers! Explain how you expect to get up into the top of our apple tree.""I never said I expected to get up there," Grunty Pig corrected him."What?" cried Jolly Robin. "What?" cried his wife."No!" said Grunty Pig. "I said I'dbe in the tree top before fall. If I work here every day around the foot of the tree I'll have it uprooted at last. And when it topples over and falls on the ground I'll have no trouble getting into the top of it."When they heard that, Jolly Robin and his wife stopped laughing.XVIDANGER AHEADJolly Robin and his wife were terribly worried. Grunty Pig meant to uproot the apple tree where they had their nest. Every day he came and dug at the foot of the tree. Every day, just before he went away, he looked up at them and said, "I hope you'll sleep well to-night. You'd better enjoy your home while you have it, for the tree will be flat on the ground before fall."Sleep! Mrs. Robin complained that she never had a good night's rest any more. She said that she had bad dreams. She dreamed that the tree was falling.And then she was sure to wake up with a start. And her husband wasn't there to calm her, because he was roosting in a thicket over in the pasture with their first brood of the season.They both agreed—Jolly and his wife—that they must get their second brood of children out of the nest as soon as they could."The moment they're old enough, we must teach them to fly," Mrs. Robin told her husband."Yes!" he said. "And we'll have to be careful of them, too, with all these seven young porkers in the orchard.""Suppose—" said Mrs. Robin—"suppose Grunty Pig should bring our tree toppling to the ground before the children leave the nest!""Oh! There's no danger of that," Jolly assured her. She was always lookingon the dark side of things. But he didn't tell her so."I don't know how we're going to be sure the children are safe," Mrs. Robin continued. "How long do you think it will take Grunty Pig to uproot our tree?"Jolly Robin had to confess that he couldn't answer his wife's question."Then ask somebody who knows something about such matters!" Mrs. Robin cried. And there was a tart note in her voice that made Jolly Robin say hastily, "Yes! Yes, my dear! I'll go right now and find an answer to your question."Off he flew. And not knowing where else to go, he sat down on a bush in Farmer Green's garden, to ponder. Who could tell him how long it would take Grunty Pig to uproot the old apple tree? Although Jolly Robin thought and thought, he could think of no one whom he mightask. To be sure, there was Tommy Fox, who was known to be an able digger. But Jolly Robin didn't trust him. Tommy Fox was tricky. And there was Billy Woodchuck, who came from a famous family of burrowers. But everybody knew that old dog Spot had chased him into his hole that very afternoon, and was watching Billy's front door.While Jolly Robin sat there in the garden he happened to look down at the ground. And right before his eyes a long snout suddenly rose out of the dirt, followed by the squat form of Grandfather Mole.Jolly Robin gave a cheerful chirp. Everybody knew that Grandfather Mole was the champion digger of Pleasant Valley. And if he couldn't answer Mrs. Robin's question, then no one could.XVIIA PUZZLE SOLVED"Good morning, Grandfather Mole!" Jolly Robin called."What!" cried Grandfather Mole. "Have I made the mistake again of coming up on top of Farmer Green's garden?""You certainly have," Jolly told him."I must be getting old," said Grandfather Mole. "I'm growing more careless every day. I didn't mean to dig my way above ground." And then, thrusting his long nose right into the dirt, he began to burrow out of sight."Stop! Please stop!" Jolly Robin besoughthim. "I want to ask you a question about digging."Grandfather Mole pulled his nose out of the ground."What's your question?" he inquired."It's about Grunty Pig," Jolly Robin began."I thought you said it was about digging," Grandfather Mole grumbled. And he started to burrow once more."So it is!" Jolly exclaimed. "I want to know how long it will take Grunty Pig to dig up the apple tree where I live."Again Grandfather Mole paused."It all depends," he muttered. "It all depends on how much of his time he spends at digging.""He works every day," said Jolly Robin. "A good, long while every day!"Grandfather Mole appeared to be thinking deeply."He boasts—" Jolly Robin explained—"he boasts that he will have the tree uprooted before fall.""Nonsense!" Grandfather Mole snorted. "If Grunty Pig says that, he doesn't know much about apple trees. He may be a fair digger; but he must be stupid.""That's what I've always thought!" Jolly Robin exclaimed."He can't go very deep into things, or he'd never have made such a boast," Grandfather Mole declared. "When Grunty Pig digs, does he dig right down out of sight?""Oh, no! Never!" said Jolly Robin."Ah! He merely scratches the surface!" Grandfather Mole remarked with a wise nod of his head. "Well, it's no wonder that he made such a mistake.""Mistake!" Jolly Robin echoed. "Doyou mean that Grunty Pig won't have our apple tree down by fall?""I do," Grandfather Mole answered. "The roots of a big, old apple tree spread out a good rod in every direction. And it would take a hundred Grunty Pigs a whole summer to dig them free."A broad smile spread over Jolly Robin's face."Then—" he ventured—"then wouldn't it take Grunty Pig a hundred summers to dig up our tree, if he worked alone?""No doubt!" Grandfather replied. "Or, to be on the safe side, I'll say he could uproot your tree in ninety-nine summers.""Hurrah!" Jolly Robin shouted. "Hurrah—and thank you, Grandfather Mole!" And leaving the old gentleman to dig himself out of sight, Jolly Robin hurried home to his wife.Mrs. Robin was glad to see him. She knew, as soon as she caught a glimpse of his face, that he had good news for her. And she needed cheering, poor soul! For Grunty Pig was beneath the tree again, digging away in a most businesslike fashion."Let him dig!" Jolly Robin whispered to his wife. "Grandfather Mole says it will take him ninety-nine summers to topple our tree over. And you know that Grandfather Mole is the greatest burrower in Pleasant Valley."Mrs. Robin felt better at once. Looking down at Grunty Pig, she said to her husband, "How stupid this son of Mrs. Pig's is! He has turned up at least a dozen angleworms while you've been gone. And he has let every one of them get away from him!"XVIIITHE LUCKIEST OF ALLGrunty Pig found that being the smallest of the family wasn't all fun. Not only could his brothers and sisters crowd him at the feeding trough. Even when they were playing in the pen they often knocked him down and walked right over him. And if he objected—as he usually did—they were sure to laugh and call him "Runt."Try as she would, Mrs. Pig couldn't rid her children of these boorish ways. But she shouldn't be blamed for that. It must be remembered that she had seven youngsters, all of the same age.At least, Mrs. Pig did what she could to make Grunty's lot easier."Don't feel unhappy!" she said to him one day as he picked himself up, whimpering, after a hard knock. "Don't feel unhappy because you are the littlest of the family. In one way you are the luckiest of all my children."Grunty Pig didn't stop weeping. He saw no reason—yet—to feel more cheerful."Did you know—" his mother asked him—"did you know that in one respect you are the handsomest one of the whole litter? You have the curliest tail of them all!"Grunty Pig gazed, open-mouthed, at his mother. He stopped snivelling. Up to that time he had scarcely given his tail a thought. So long as it followed him wherever he went he had been satisfied with it.Grunty Pig Stuck Fast in the Fence.Grunty Pig Stuck Fast in the Fence.(Page86)From that moment Grunty began to think a great deal about his tail. He was always turning his head to look at it, to make sure it hadn't lost any of its kink. Now and then he was even late for a meal, because he was feasting his eyes on his tail when Farmer Green came to the pen with food for Mrs. Pig's family.It must be confessed that Grunty sometimes boasted before his brothers and sisters about his beautiful curly tail. And just before meal time his brother Blackie was known, upon occasion, to mention the subject of tails. He did that in the hope that Grunty would be late at the feeding trough.Sad to say, Grunty Pig was fast becoming vain. He even talked about tails with the neighbors, taking pains to explain that his own was the handsomest one on the farm.Old dog Spot sniffed when Grunty boasted about his tail one day."Why, your tail is of no use whatsoever," Spot told him. "You can't use it to switch a fly off your back. The Muley Cow can do that. And so can the old horse, Ebenezer.""Ah! But my tail is so pretty to look at!" Grunty Pig exclaimed."You can't puff it up to show you're angry, as Miss Kitty Cat does," said Spot."Ah! But my tail has a beautiful curl!" said Grunty Pig."You can't wag it, to let folks know you're friendly, as I can," said Spot."Ah! But my tail issohandsome!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.XIXDOG SPOT'S PLANWhen Grunty Pig insisted that his own tightly curled tail was the most beautiful one in the neighborhood, old dog Spot yawned."If that's the case," he remarked, "I should think you'd want your tail where you could see it more easily. Don't you find it a nuisance to have to turn your head around every time you want to look at your tail?"Grunty Pig admitted that his tail wasn't in the most convenient place in the world."If Farmer Green should cut off your tail and nail it up on the outside of thebarn," old Spot suggested, "you could look at it easily enough. And it would give others a better chance to see it, too. Even the people that drive along the road could enjoy it. Everybody spoke about the tall corn that we nailed to the barn last fall. And I'm sure that folks would admire your tail."When Spot spoke of Farmer Green's cutting off his tail, Grunty Pig winced. But as the old dog talked on and on Grunty forgot the painful part of the plan."There's no doubt," he agreed, "that my tail would be a fine sight, fastened up on the barn where everybody could gaze at it. But don't you think, Mr. Spot, that I'd look very queer without any tail?""N—no!" Spot told him. "N—no! I've seen plenty of pigs without tails. They didn't look queer at all. Really,they looked better without tails than they would have looked with them."Grunty Pig had listened carefully to what Spot said. Yet somehow he couldn't quite make up his mind to part with his beautiful tail, even if it would delight many more people when nailed to the outside of the barn."I'd like to see one of those pigs," he said to Spot. "I'd like to see how they look.""That's easily arranged," old Spot told him. "I can show you a dozen of them—all as pink and white and happy as they can be. And not a single one of them with a tail!""I'd certainly like to see them," Grunty Pig murmured."They're a pretty sight," Spot assured him. "Don't you think you'd feel uncomfortable if you appeared before themwith a tail? Don't you want to have yours cut offbeforeyou go to see these tailless little fellows? It seems to me you'd be more at your ease. It would certainly bepoliteof you."Grunty Pig, however, cared little for politeness. He said that nobody was polite to him. His brothers—and even his sisters—were always knocking him down and trampling on him."Very well!" said Spot. "Squirm through that fence and follow me."It was a tight squeeze. When Grunty Pig was half through the hole in the fence he found himself stuck fast. He could move neither forward nor back. "Oh, dear!" he wailed. "What shall I do?""Keep perfectly still!" old dog Spot cautioned him—as if Grunty Pig could do anything else. "I'll jump the fence and help you."Now, Grunty Pig thought that old Spot intended to give him a push. Instead, Spot nipped him smartly.It was exactly the sort of help that Grunty needed. He gave a frantic plunge forward and fell, sprawling, on the ground outside the yard, where Spot soon joined him."It takes old Spot to hurry 'em along," said the old dog gleefully.Grunty Pig said "Umph! Umph!"Old dog Spot was not quite sure what he meant.XXA NEW KIND OF PIG"Stop grunting and squealing and follow me!" old dog Spot growled. And Grunty Pig, who had just tumbled through a hole in the fence, scrambled to his feet and trotted after his guide.Old Spot had promised to show Grunty a dozen pink and white pigs, all without tails. He wanted Grunty to see how handsome they looked."You'll like them," Spot told Grunty over his shoulder as they jogged across the farmyard. "You'll ask Farmer Green this very day to cut off your tail and nail it up on the barn. I tell you, thesepigs lookneat. There'sstyleabout them.""Umph! Umph!" said Grunty Pig as he shuffled along behind."Now, I wonder what he meant by that!" Spot mused. It was sometimes hard to tell whether Grunty'sumphsstood foryesorno.Around the corner of the farmhouse, near the woodshed door, old dog Spot came to a halt before a two-storied cage, the front of which was covered with fine-meshed wire netting.Stopping beside Spot, Grunty Pig peered inside the cage. He saw a number of odd little creatures running about upon the sawdust-strewn floor of the tiny house, one or another of them giving a faint squeak now and then as if ordering the two unasked callers to move on.Whoever they were, they were a bright-eyedlittle family. But Grunty Pig thought, as he stared at them, that they had a most peculiar look. There seemed to be something missing about them. Yet he couldn't tell just what it was.Together Grunty and Spot stood there, silent, for a time; until at last Grunty said, "Come along! Let's not stay here any longer. I want to see those twelve pigs without tails."Old dog Spot snorted."Youwantto see them!" he cried. "Well, nobody's stopping you. They're right here in front of you!"Grunty Pig's mouth fell open—he was so astonished. He knew, now, what made the little, pudgy, white strangers look so queer. There wasn't one of them that had even a hint of a tail!Then all at once Grunty turned angrily upon old dog Spot."These aren't pigs!" he squealed. "You needn't think you can fool me. They're not pigs at all.""Oh, yes—they are!" Spot insisted. "You didn't suppose that all the pigs in the world were exactly like your family—did you?"Grunty didn't know what to say. He looked at the odd little creatures again. And then he looked at Spot once more."If these really are pigs," he faltered, "they must be very, very young. They're certainly smaller than any day-old pigs I ever saw.... Maybe their tails haven't sprouted yet."Old dog Spot seemed to choke over something. He turned his head away for a moment or two before he spoke."These pigs," he said, "won't ever have tails. Not one of them would know what to do with a tail if you gave him one.They don't want tails. They have no use for them. And now that you see for yourself how happy they are without tails, you ought not to delay any longer about having yours cut off. I hope," Spot added, "I'll see your tail nailed up on the barn to-morrow, where everybody can admire it."Then Grunty Pig said something that surprised him."Why don't you have your own tail cut off?" he asked old Spot.And before old Spot could think of an answer, Johnnie Green came running out of the woodshed."Get away from my guinea pigs!" he shouted.Grunty and Spot both turned and ran in opposite directions. Grunty didn't see Spot again for more than a week. When they did at last meet, old Spot never mentionedtails at all. To tell the truth, he seemed to feel somewhat ashamed of himself for having tried to play a trick on Grunty Pig.Or maybe he felt ashamed because he was caught at it.XXIBEECHNUTSDown the hill, a little way from Farmer Green's house, a great beech tree stood beside the road. In the fall, when the nuts were ripe, Johnnie Green often visited the tree. And so did Frisky Squirrel. And so, likewise, did that noisy rascal, Jasper Jay. They liked beechnuts—all three. And somehow they got the notion that the beech tree belonged to them—and to nobody else.One fine, crisp fall day when Johnnie Green was in school, a fourth nut-lover wandered down the road, stopped right between the wheel tracks, and sniffed. Itwas Grunty Pig. "I smell beechnuts!" he cried with a joyful squeal. And crashing into the light underbrush along the roadside, he began to search among the fallen leaves with his long nose.Soon Grunty came upon a cluster of the three-sided nuts, clinging inside a bur that the frost had split open. He ate the sweet nuts, shells and all. And with many a grunt of delight he grubbed beneath the tree from which the nuts had fallen. His keen nose led him to burs that Johnnie Green had trampled over that very morning, and missed."I wonder—" said Grunty Pig aloud—"I wonder why nobody ever told me about this beech tree.""Perhaps it was because you are a pig," said a voice right over his head.He looked up. And there on a low branch sat Frisky Squirrel. Gruntyknew him; he had sometimes seen him around Farmer Green's corncrib."Of course I'm a Pig," Grunty retorted. "I'm Mrs. Pig's son.""Well, Mrs. Pig's son, I notice that you have helped yourself freely to beechnuts.""I've eaten all I could find," Grunty told Frisky with a grin."I don't hear any thanks," Frisky Squirrel remarked. "Don't you know that these beechnuts belong to me and Jasper Jay and Johnnie Green?""Umph!""You did?" Frisky inquired."Umph!""Oh, you didn't!" Frisky exclaimed. "Then I suppose I shall have to pardon you. But Jasper Jay wouldn't, if he caught you taking any of the nuts that fall from this tree."There was truth in what Frisky said.Even as he spoke a patch of blue flashed in the top of the beech tree. And a harsh voice sang out, "What's going on here?"Jasper Jay had arrived.Grunty Pig, however, did not even give Jasper a glance. Instead, he began nosing about for another beechnut bur.For a moment or two Jasper Jay watched him. And then Jasper began to squawk."Stop that!" he ordered. "Don't you dare to take any of our beechnuts!""Umph!" said Grunty Pig. "I can't find any more on the ground. So I suppose I shall have to obey him," Grunty muttered half under his breath."Don't mumble! Speak up!" cried Jasper Jay. "If you have any excuses to make, let's hear them!"XXIIJASPER JAY OBJECTSWhile Jasper Jay, in the beech tree, waited for Grunty Pig, on the ground, to speak up and make his excuses for taking beechnuts, a bur dropped from a twig and landed right in front of Grunty's nose. He fell upon it greedily. And, tearing it open, he devoured the nuts with relish.For a few moments his action struck Jasper Jay dumb. That blue-coated rascal turned to Frisky Squirrel, who clung to a limb near-by."Well, did you ever?" Jasper gasped. And then, having found his voice, Jasper began to use it on Grunty Pig.Now, Jasper Jay was a wild fellow. He often used words that made the gentler folk in Pleasant Valley shudder. And he called Grunty Pig names that would have made many a person angry.Grunty Pig, however, never even blinked. And after a while Jasper Jay used up all his special words, which he generally employed at such times. He gave Frisky Squirrel a helpless look."My! My! Isn't this chap thick-skinned?" he exclaimed."Certainly I am!" cried Grunty Pig. "That's why I like to wallow in mud.""Ha!" Jasper Jay sniffed. And he spoke again to Frisky Squirrel. "This chap is thick-headed, too. I see that I'm going to have trouble making him understand what I say."Frisky Squirrel merely grinned at his companion."Look here, young Porker!" Jasper called to Grunty Pig. "Doesn't Farmer Green feed you?"The name "Porker" made Grunty Pig look up."I'm Mrs. Pig's son," he said. "Don't call me 'Porker'!""Well—Pig, then!" Jasper Jay squalled. "Doesn't Farmer Green feed you?""Yes!""Well, then—don't come here and take our nuts! Didn't your mother ever teach you that things that grow on trees—such things as nuts—belong to the people that live in the trees?""Does Johnnie Green live in this tree?" Grunty Pig inquired."He spends half his time here—or a quarter, anyhow," Jasper Jay grumbled. "And you may be sure he gets his share ofthese beechnuts. Goodness knows he leaves few enough for me and my friend here."Now," Jasper Jay went on, "I want you to promise not to eat any more of our nuts."Grunty Pig shook his head."I can't promise that, exactly," he said. "But I'll promise not to eat any that I don't find on the ground.""Huh!" Jasper Jay scoffed. "That means that you won't eat any nuts that you can't reach. That's no promise at all. It's nothing but a threat. It's the same as saying that you're going to eat every nut that drops off this tree."Grunty Pig made no reply. He would have wandered on, but for a fresh breeze that had begun to whip the branches of the beech tree. He decided to wait there. More burs might fall. And Gruntywanted to be on hand to meet them when they dropped."Go home!" Jasper Jay shrieked at him. "Go back to your pigpen where you belong. We don't want you here." And he said many more things that were still ruder.But Grunty Pig never showed the least sign of anger. He didn't even let Jasper Jay know that he had heard. When the wind died down he waddled off down the road. And Frisky Squirrel followed him through the tree tops. When they had travelled out of Jasper Jay's sight and hearing, Frisky asked Grunty Pig a question."I should like to know," he said, "how you managed to keep still when Jasper was abusing you. I know that I should have lost my temper. Can it be that you didn't hear what he said?""Oh, I heard him clearly enough," said Grunty. "But there was no sense in my getting angry withhim. If he had been standing on the ground near me he would never have dared talk to me as he did. Jasper Jay called me names because he was safe in the tree. If he hadn't had that tree to help him he'd never have dared say what he did."To tell the truth, I am a bit out of patience with that beech tree," Grunty confessed. "It played me a mean trick. And I hope there'll be a raging wind to-night that will rob it of every bur it has.... I'd uproot the beech," he added, "if I didn't like beechnuts so much.""Well, youarean odd one," said Frisky Squirrel."If everybody was as odd as I am there'd be fewer Jasper Jays in the world," Grunty Pig declared.XXIIIMOSES MOUSE'S WAYOne day when Grunty Pig was at home, in the pigpen, a squeaky voiced piped "Good morning!" to him. Looking up, Grunty saw a plump little gentleman clinging to the top board on one side of the pen."Good morning!" Grunty answered. "May I inquire what your name is?""I'm Moses Mouse," his caller replied."Do you live in the piggery?—or in the barn?" Grunty asked him."Neither!" said Moses Mouse. "I live in the farmhouse. My wife and I have a nest in the wall.... The cat's away," heexplained. "That's why I decided to stroll across the yard and visit you folks out here.""Some people," said Grunty Pig, "have all the luck. You live in the farmhouse. Miss Kitty Cat lives in the farmhouse—when she's at home. And old dog Spot spends a good deal of his time there—especially in cold weather. It must be pleasant to have your home where there's always plenty to eat, whenever you happen to feel hungry.""Miss Kitty Cat and old dog Spot always fare well," Mr. Mouse admitted. "But I've often gone to bed half starved. Maybe you didn't know that Mrs. Green is terribly neat. She doesn't leave much food around for us Mice.""Well," Grunty remarked, "it's an honor, anyhow, to live in the farmhouse. You ought not to complain about the food,even if it is a bit scarce at times. I'd be glad to live there. And I dare say I'd find a plenty to eat. The farmhouse is where the sour milk comes from.""If you feel like that," said Moses Mouse, "why don't you join us? Why don't you come to the farmhouse for the winter, anyhow?"Grunty Pig shook his head."No!" he said, half to himself. "No! I can't do it.""Why not?" Mr. Mouse wanted to know."I've never been invited," Grunty told him, with something like a frown.Moses Mouse surprised him with a merry laugh."Ho!" he exclaimed. "Neither have I. If I had waited for an invitation I wouldn't be living in the farmhouse. I'd have shivered my days out in the barn."Grunty Pig looked at his caller with growing interest. He would have said that so tiny a gentleman would be too timid to crowd in where he wasn't asked."Don't wait any longer for an invitation," Moses Mouse urged him. "Go to the farmhouse and walk right in.""Oughtn't I to rap?" Grunty inquired."Certainly not!" said Moses Mouse. "Make yourself right at home. Act as if the farmhouse belonged to you. That's the way I do. And nobody ever bothers me, except Miss Kitty Cat—or Miss Snooper, as we Mice call her. Even she can't drive me away from the farmhouse. I lived there before she ever came to Pleasant Valley.""She certainly couldn't drive me away," Grunty Pig muttered. "Besides, didn't you say she was away herself?""Yes!" said Moses Mouse. "And I hope she has gone for good.""Then," said Grunty Pig, "it ought to be quite safe for me to go to the farmhouse. And as soon as I have a chance to get out of this pen I'll do as you suggest.""Good!" cried Moses Mouse. And he said that he hoped to have many a chat with Grunty, at the farmhouse."Umph!" said Grunty Pig. And Mr. Mouse was much pleased, for he took that to mean "Yes!"XXIVA PIG IN THE PARLORGrunty Pig had got out of his pen and out of the piggery, too. Ever since his talk with Moses Mouse the day before he had been hoping for a chance to escape. And shuffling across the farmyard somewhat heavily—for he was growing longer and taller and fatter every day—Grunty went straight to the woodshed door. It was open. And he walked through it. Then he clattered over the woodshed floor and peered into the kitchen. There was no one there.For a few moments Grunty stood sniffing in the doorway. A delicious odorgreeted him. He wasn't sure what it was. A pan sat near the edge of the table. And Grunty Pig had no trouble upsetting it with his nose.Doughnuts rolled in every direction—crisp, brown, freshly fried doughnuts. And Grunty Pig showed that he was thoughtful. He went to the trouble of picking them all up off the floor. But he forgot to drop them back into the pan. Instead, he put every one of them into his own mouth."That Moses Mouse was all wrong," he murmured. "He complained of the food here. When I see him I'll have to tell him that he was mistaken. Why, I never ate anything that tasted better than these rings!"After making sure that there was nothing else for him to devour in the kitchen Grunty Pig pushed through a door thatstood ajar. He found himself in a long, dimly lighted hall. There were doors on both sides of it. Grunty nosed around each one in turn. Not till he came to the last of all, at the further end of the hall, did he find one that wasn't shut tight. This door yielded to a little gentle pushing. And Grunty then found himself—though he did not know it—in the parlor of the farmhouse.As he stood still and gazed about him, who should come stealing into the room but Moses Mouse."Ah!" said Moses in a whisper. "So you've arrived at last?""Yes!" said Grunty Pig. "Isn't this a fine pen? Now that I've come to the farmhouse to live I believe I'll make this pen my headquarters.""That's a good idea," Moses Mouse told him. "Farmer Green's family don't useit often. They seldom come here unless they have company."While he listened, Grunty Pig sidled up to a table in the center of the room and began, in an absent-minded fashion, to rub his back against it. To his surprise, the table tipped over and a lamp that had stood upon it crashed into a hundred pieces on the floor. Then a door slammed somewhere. And steps sounded in the hall.Moses Mouse tried not to look startled."I must be going now," he said abruptly. "I'll see you later." Then he dashed into the fireplace and ran up the chimney."The accident was really your fault," Grunty called to him. "If you hadn't talked so much I'd have noticed what I was doing."Moses Mouse, however, did not reply.And a moment later Farmer Green's wife appeared in the doorway. When she saw Grunty Pig she gave a scream. Mrs. Green couldn't help being surprised at first. But soon she began to laugh as if she would never stop."A pig in our parlor!" she cried. "Who ever would have thought it?"Grunty Pig tried to explain that the broken lamp was really Moses Mouse's fault. But Mrs. Green wouldn't listen. She ran out of the room and came back at once with a broom in her hand. Then, opening the front door, she drove Grunty Pig into the yard."Now, I wonder why Mrs. Green put me out of the farmhouse," he muttered.Suddenly an idea popped into his head. "It must be," he cried, "because I told tales. I tattled on Moses Mouse; and Mrs. Green didn't like it. Next time I'llbe careful about what I say to her."There never was a next time. Perhaps Farmer Green took pains to keep the door of Grunty's pen shut. Perhaps Farmer Green made the fence outside the piggery "hog tight," as he would say. Or perhaps Grunty Pig grew so fat that he couldn't squeeze through any ordinary opening.Anyhow, Grunty never set foot inside the farmhouse again. After a while he didn't care. The bigger he was, the less he liked to roam about. And at last Farmer Green began calling him his "prize hog."So you can see how very fat he must have been.THE ENDLittle Jack Rabbit Books(Trademark Registered.)By DAVID CORYAuthor of "Little Journeys to Happyland"Colored Wrappers With Text Illustrations.A new and unique series about the furred and feathered little people of the wood and meadow.Children will eagerly follow the doings of little Jack Rabbit, and the clever way in which he escapes from his three enemies, Danny Fox, Mr. Wicked Wolf and Hungry Hawk will delight the youngsters.LITTLE JACK RABBIT'S ADVENTURESLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND DANNY FOXLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND THE SQUIRREL BROTHERSLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND CHIPPY CHIPMUNKLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND THE BIG BROWN BEARLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND UNCLE JOHN HARELITTLE JACK RABBIT AND PROFESSOR CROWLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND OLD MAN WEASELLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND MR. WICKED WOLFLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND HUNGRY HAWKLITTLE-JACK RABBIT AND THE POLICEMAN DOGLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND MISS MOUSIELITTLE JACK RABBIT AND UNCLE LUCKYLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND THE YELLOW DOG TRAMPGrosset & Dunlap,Publishers, NEW YORKTHE PUSS-IN-BOOTS, Jr. SERIESBy DAVID CORYAuthor of "The Little Jack Rabbit Stories" and "LittleJourneys to Happyland"Handsomely Bound. Colored Wrappers. Illustrated.Each Volume Complete in Itself.To know Puss Junior once is to love him forever. That's the way all the little people feel about this young, adventurous cat, son of a very famous father.THE ADVENTURES OF PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.FURTHER ADVENTURES OF PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.IN FAIRYLANDTRAVELS OF PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND OLD MOTHER GOOSEPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., IN NEW MOTHER GOOSE LANDPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND THE GOOD GRAY HORSEPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND TOM THUMBPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND ROBINSON CRUSOEPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND THE MAN IN THE MOONGROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORKHAPPY HOME SERIESBy HOWARD R. GARISIndividual Colored Wrappers and Colored Illustrations byLANG CAMPBELLMr. Garis has written many stories for boys and girls, among them his Uncle Wiggly volumes, but these books are something distinctly new, surprising and entertaining.ADVENTURES OF THE GALLOPING GAS STOVEA tale of how Gassy mysteriously disappeared, and how he came riding home on the back of an elephant. It is also related how he broke his leg, and fed a hungry family in a cottage near a lake.ADVENTURES of the RUNAWAY ROCKING CHAIRRacky creaked and groaned when fat Grandma sat on him too hard. He felt himself ill-treated, so he vanished. He did not intend to take Grandma's glasses with him, but he did. And he rocked a bunny to sleep.ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVELING TABLETippy, the table, always wanted to travel and see the world, but he did not know how to start. Until, all of a sudden, a diamond ring was hidden in his leg and a balloon carried him off through the air.ADVENTURES OF THE SLIDING FOOT STOOLJust because he did not want to be used as a milking stool by the Maiden All Forlorn, Skiddy slid away Christmas eve. With him went Jack the Jumper, and they had a wonderful time in the top shop.ADVENTURES OF THE SAILING SOFASkippy always wanted to be a sailor. When the high water came in the spring, the sofa went sailing. He had a Rooster for a crew, while Tatter, the rag doll with one shoe button eye, was Captain.GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORKCAROLYN WELLS BOOKSAttractively Bound. Illustrated. Colored Wrappers.THE MARJORIE BOOKSMarjorie is a happy little girl of twelve, up to mischief, but full of goodness and sincerity. In her and her friends every girl reader will see much of her own love of fun, play and adventure.MARJORIE'S VACATIONMARJORIE'S BUSY DAYSMARJORIE'S NEW FRIENDMARJORIE IN COMMANDMARJORIE'S MAYTIMEMARJORIE AT SEACOTETHE TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIESIntroducing Dorinda Fayre—a pretty blonde, sweet, serious, timid and a little slow, and Dorothy Rose—a sparkling brunette, quick, elf-like, high tempered, full of mischief and always getting into scrapes.TWO LITTLE WOMENTWO LITTLE WOMEN AND TREASURE HOUSETWO LITTLE WOMEN ON A HOLIDAYTHE DICK AND DOLLY BOOKSDick and Dolly are brother and sister, and their games, their pranks, their joys and sorrows, are told in a manner which makes the stories "really true" to young readers.DICK AND DOLLYDICK AND DOLLY'S ADVENTURESGROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, New York
Always Mind Your Mother."Always Mind Your Mother," Said Mrs. Pig.(Page57)
"Always Mind Your Mother," Said Mrs. Pig.
(Page57)
Jolly Robin and his wife told all their friends that Grunty Pig was going to teach them a lesson. The birds had many a laugh over the matter. Not till old Mr. Crow visited the orchard one day did the Robin family cease chuckling over what they called "the joke of the season."
"Don't laugh too soon!" Mr. Crow croaked. "This Grunty Pig means mischief. He isn't going to teach you the sort of lesson you've been snickering about. What he intends to do is to harm you in some way."
Now, nobody in Pleasant Valley couldlook gloomier than old Mr. Crow. And when he hinted darkly, in his hoarse way, that there was trouble ahead for the Robin family, he threw Jolly Robin's wife into a flutter.
"Oh, what does Grunty Pig mean to do to us?" Mrs. Robin quavered.
"I'd rather not tell you," said old Mr. Crow. "I don't want you to worry."
Mr. Crow left them then. Of course he couldn't have chosen a better way to upset Mrs. Robin. Even Jolly himself had to admit after a while that he could think of nothing that seemed to cheer his wife in the least. "I'll speak to Mr. Crow again," he told his wife. "I'll ask him just what he meant."
Alas! Mr. Crow couldn't tell him. The truth was that Mr. Crow had already told all he knew.
"I'll ask Grunty Pig himself what hemeans to do to us," Jolly then declared to his wife. "I've noticed that he digs every day at the foot of our apple tree. The next time he comes here I'll have a talk with him." So that very day Jolly put his question to Grunty Pig.
"What is it," he asked, "that you intend to do to us?"
"You'll find out later," said Grunty Pig. "I expect to be in the top of your apple tree before fall. And then—"
Jolly Robin couldn't wait for him to finish. He had to laugh right out, on the spot. And his wife, who had been listening eagerly, burst into the first giggle that had passed her bill for days and days.
So Grunty Pig expected to climb a tree! Mr. and Mrs. Robin gave each other a merry look. It was all too funny for words.
"Umph!" said Grunty Pig. "You won't laugh when I'm in your tree top."
"How are you going to get up here?" Jolly Robin asked him, with a wink at Mrs. Robin. "Are you going tofly?"
"No!" Grunty Pig said. "No!"
"Then you're going toclimb," cried Mrs. Robin. And both she and her husband choked, as they pictured fat Grunty Pig scrambling up the trunk of the old apple tree.
"No!" Grunty Pig said. "No!"
"Well, well!" Jolly Robin exclaimed. "Don't be so short with your answers! Explain how you expect to get up into the top of our apple tree."
"I never said I expected to get up there," Grunty Pig corrected him.
"What?" cried Jolly Robin. "What?" cried his wife.
"No!" said Grunty Pig. "I said I'dbe in the tree top before fall. If I work here every day around the foot of the tree I'll have it uprooted at last. And when it topples over and falls on the ground I'll have no trouble getting into the top of it."
When they heard that, Jolly Robin and his wife stopped laughing.
Jolly Robin and his wife were terribly worried. Grunty Pig meant to uproot the apple tree where they had their nest. Every day he came and dug at the foot of the tree. Every day, just before he went away, he looked up at them and said, "I hope you'll sleep well to-night. You'd better enjoy your home while you have it, for the tree will be flat on the ground before fall."
Sleep! Mrs. Robin complained that she never had a good night's rest any more. She said that she had bad dreams. She dreamed that the tree was falling.And then she was sure to wake up with a start. And her husband wasn't there to calm her, because he was roosting in a thicket over in the pasture with their first brood of the season.
They both agreed—Jolly and his wife—that they must get their second brood of children out of the nest as soon as they could.
"The moment they're old enough, we must teach them to fly," Mrs. Robin told her husband.
"Yes!" he said. "And we'll have to be careful of them, too, with all these seven young porkers in the orchard."
"Suppose—" said Mrs. Robin—"suppose Grunty Pig should bring our tree toppling to the ground before the children leave the nest!"
"Oh! There's no danger of that," Jolly assured her. She was always lookingon the dark side of things. But he didn't tell her so.
"I don't know how we're going to be sure the children are safe," Mrs. Robin continued. "How long do you think it will take Grunty Pig to uproot our tree?"
Jolly Robin had to confess that he couldn't answer his wife's question.
"Then ask somebody who knows something about such matters!" Mrs. Robin cried. And there was a tart note in her voice that made Jolly Robin say hastily, "Yes! Yes, my dear! I'll go right now and find an answer to your question."
Off he flew. And not knowing where else to go, he sat down on a bush in Farmer Green's garden, to ponder. Who could tell him how long it would take Grunty Pig to uproot the old apple tree? Although Jolly Robin thought and thought, he could think of no one whom he mightask. To be sure, there was Tommy Fox, who was known to be an able digger. But Jolly Robin didn't trust him. Tommy Fox was tricky. And there was Billy Woodchuck, who came from a famous family of burrowers. But everybody knew that old dog Spot had chased him into his hole that very afternoon, and was watching Billy's front door.
While Jolly Robin sat there in the garden he happened to look down at the ground. And right before his eyes a long snout suddenly rose out of the dirt, followed by the squat form of Grandfather Mole.
Jolly Robin gave a cheerful chirp. Everybody knew that Grandfather Mole was the champion digger of Pleasant Valley. And if he couldn't answer Mrs. Robin's question, then no one could.
"Good morning, Grandfather Mole!" Jolly Robin called.
"What!" cried Grandfather Mole. "Have I made the mistake again of coming up on top of Farmer Green's garden?"
"You certainly have," Jolly told him.
"I must be getting old," said Grandfather Mole. "I'm growing more careless every day. I didn't mean to dig my way above ground." And then, thrusting his long nose right into the dirt, he began to burrow out of sight.
"Stop! Please stop!" Jolly Robin besoughthim. "I want to ask you a question about digging."
Grandfather Mole pulled his nose out of the ground.
"What's your question?" he inquired.
"It's about Grunty Pig," Jolly Robin began.
"I thought you said it was about digging," Grandfather Mole grumbled. And he started to burrow once more.
"So it is!" Jolly exclaimed. "I want to know how long it will take Grunty Pig to dig up the apple tree where I live."
Again Grandfather Mole paused.
"It all depends," he muttered. "It all depends on how much of his time he spends at digging."
"He works every day," said Jolly Robin. "A good, long while every day!"
Grandfather Mole appeared to be thinking deeply.
"He boasts—" Jolly Robin explained—"he boasts that he will have the tree uprooted before fall."
"Nonsense!" Grandfather Mole snorted. "If Grunty Pig says that, he doesn't know much about apple trees. He may be a fair digger; but he must be stupid."
"That's what I've always thought!" Jolly Robin exclaimed.
"He can't go very deep into things, or he'd never have made such a boast," Grandfather Mole declared. "When Grunty Pig digs, does he dig right down out of sight?"
"Oh, no! Never!" said Jolly Robin.
"Ah! He merely scratches the surface!" Grandfather Mole remarked with a wise nod of his head. "Well, it's no wonder that he made such a mistake."
"Mistake!" Jolly Robin echoed. "Doyou mean that Grunty Pig won't have our apple tree down by fall?"
"I do," Grandfather Mole answered. "The roots of a big, old apple tree spread out a good rod in every direction. And it would take a hundred Grunty Pigs a whole summer to dig them free."
A broad smile spread over Jolly Robin's face.
"Then—" he ventured—"then wouldn't it take Grunty Pig a hundred summers to dig up our tree, if he worked alone?"
"No doubt!" Grandfather replied. "Or, to be on the safe side, I'll say he could uproot your tree in ninety-nine summers."
"Hurrah!" Jolly Robin shouted. "Hurrah—and thank you, Grandfather Mole!" And leaving the old gentleman to dig himself out of sight, Jolly Robin hurried home to his wife.
Mrs. Robin was glad to see him. She knew, as soon as she caught a glimpse of his face, that he had good news for her. And she needed cheering, poor soul! For Grunty Pig was beneath the tree again, digging away in a most businesslike fashion.
"Let him dig!" Jolly Robin whispered to his wife. "Grandfather Mole says it will take him ninety-nine summers to topple our tree over. And you know that Grandfather Mole is the greatest burrower in Pleasant Valley."
Mrs. Robin felt better at once. Looking down at Grunty Pig, she said to her husband, "How stupid this son of Mrs. Pig's is! He has turned up at least a dozen angleworms while you've been gone. And he has let every one of them get away from him!"
Grunty Pig found that being the smallest of the family wasn't all fun. Not only could his brothers and sisters crowd him at the feeding trough. Even when they were playing in the pen they often knocked him down and walked right over him. And if he objected—as he usually did—they were sure to laugh and call him "Runt."
Try as she would, Mrs. Pig couldn't rid her children of these boorish ways. But she shouldn't be blamed for that. It must be remembered that she had seven youngsters, all of the same age.
At least, Mrs. Pig did what she could to make Grunty's lot easier.
"Don't feel unhappy!" she said to him one day as he picked himself up, whimpering, after a hard knock. "Don't feel unhappy because you are the littlest of the family. In one way you are the luckiest of all my children."
Grunty Pig didn't stop weeping. He saw no reason—yet—to feel more cheerful.
"Did you know—" his mother asked him—"did you know that in one respect you are the handsomest one of the whole litter? You have the curliest tail of them all!"
Grunty Pig gazed, open-mouthed, at his mother. He stopped snivelling. Up to that time he had scarcely given his tail a thought. So long as it followed him wherever he went he had been satisfied with it.
Grunty Pig Stuck Fast in the Fence.Grunty Pig Stuck Fast in the Fence.(Page86)
Grunty Pig Stuck Fast in the Fence.
(Page86)
From that moment Grunty began to think a great deal about his tail. He was always turning his head to look at it, to make sure it hadn't lost any of its kink. Now and then he was even late for a meal, because he was feasting his eyes on his tail when Farmer Green came to the pen with food for Mrs. Pig's family.
It must be confessed that Grunty sometimes boasted before his brothers and sisters about his beautiful curly tail. And just before meal time his brother Blackie was known, upon occasion, to mention the subject of tails. He did that in the hope that Grunty would be late at the feeding trough.
Sad to say, Grunty Pig was fast becoming vain. He even talked about tails with the neighbors, taking pains to explain that his own was the handsomest one on the farm.
Old dog Spot sniffed when Grunty boasted about his tail one day.
"Why, your tail is of no use whatsoever," Spot told him. "You can't use it to switch a fly off your back. The Muley Cow can do that. And so can the old horse, Ebenezer."
"Ah! But my tail is so pretty to look at!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.
"You can't puff it up to show you're angry, as Miss Kitty Cat does," said Spot.
"Ah! But my tail has a beautiful curl!" said Grunty Pig.
"You can't wag it, to let folks know you're friendly, as I can," said Spot.
"Ah! But my tail issohandsome!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.
When Grunty Pig insisted that his own tightly curled tail was the most beautiful one in the neighborhood, old dog Spot yawned.
"If that's the case," he remarked, "I should think you'd want your tail where you could see it more easily. Don't you find it a nuisance to have to turn your head around every time you want to look at your tail?"
Grunty Pig admitted that his tail wasn't in the most convenient place in the world.
"If Farmer Green should cut off your tail and nail it up on the outside of thebarn," old Spot suggested, "you could look at it easily enough. And it would give others a better chance to see it, too. Even the people that drive along the road could enjoy it. Everybody spoke about the tall corn that we nailed to the barn last fall. And I'm sure that folks would admire your tail."
When Spot spoke of Farmer Green's cutting off his tail, Grunty Pig winced. But as the old dog talked on and on Grunty forgot the painful part of the plan.
"There's no doubt," he agreed, "that my tail would be a fine sight, fastened up on the barn where everybody could gaze at it. But don't you think, Mr. Spot, that I'd look very queer without any tail?"
"N—no!" Spot told him. "N—no! I've seen plenty of pigs without tails. They didn't look queer at all. Really,they looked better without tails than they would have looked with them."
Grunty Pig had listened carefully to what Spot said. Yet somehow he couldn't quite make up his mind to part with his beautiful tail, even if it would delight many more people when nailed to the outside of the barn.
"I'd like to see one of those pigs," he said to Spot. "I'd like to see how they look."
"That's easily arranged," old Spot told him. "I can show you a dozen of them—all as pink and white and happy as they can be. And not a single one of them with a tail!"
"I'd certainly like to see them," Grunty Pig murmured.
"They're a pretty sight," Spot assured him. "Don't you think you'd feel uncomfortable if you appeared before themwith a tail? Don't you want to have yours cut offbeforeyou go to see these tailless little fellows? It seems to me you'd be more at your ease. It would certainly bepoliteof you."
Grunty Pig, however, cared little for politeness. He said that nobody was polite to him. His brothers—and even his sisters—were always knocking him down and trampling on him.
"Very well!" said Spot. "Squirm through that fence and follow me."
It was a tight squeeze. When Grunty Pig was half through the hole in the fence he found himself stuck fast. He could move neither forward nor back. "Oh, dear!" he wailed. "What shall I do?"
"Keep perfectly still!" old dog Spot cautioned him—as if Grunty Pig could do anything else. "I'll jump the fence and help you."
Now, Grunty Pig thought that old Spot intended to give him a push. Instead, Spot nipped him smartly.
It was exactly the sort of help that Grunty needed. He gave a frantic plunge forward and fell, sprawling, on the ground outside the yard, where Spot soon joined him.
"It takes old Spot to hurry 'em along," said the old dog gleefully.
Grunty Pig said "Umph! Umph!"
Old dog Spot was not quite sure what he meant.
"Stop grunting and squealing and follow me!" old dog Spot growled. And Grunty Pig, who had just tumbled through a hole in the fence, scrambled to his feet and trotted after his guide.
Old Spot had promised to show Grunty a dozen pink and white pigs, all without tails. He wanted Grunty to see how handsome they looked.
"You'll like them," Spot told Grunty over his shoulder as they jogged across the farmyard. "You'll ask Farmer Green this very day to cut off your tail and nail it up on the barn. I tell you, thesepigs lookneat. There'sstyleabout them."
"Umph! Umph!" said Grunty Pig as he shuffled along behind.
"Now, I wonder what he meant by that!" Spot mused. It was sometimes hard to tell whether Grunty'sumphsstood foryesorno.
Around the corner of the farmhouse, near the woodshed door, old dog Spot came to a halt before a two-storied cage, the front of which was covered with fine-meshed wire netting.
Stopping beside Spot, Grunty Pig peered inside the cage. He saw a number of odd little creatures running about upon the sawdust-strewn floor of the tiny house, one or another of them giving a faint squeak now and then as if ordering the two unasked callers to move on.
Whoever they were, they were a bright-eyedlittle family. But Grunty Pig thought, as he stared at them, that they had a most peculiar look. There seemed to be something missing about them. Yet he couldn't tell just what it was.
Together Grunty and Spot stood there, silent, for a time; until at last Grunty said, "Come along! Let's not stay here any longer. I want to see those twelve pigs without tails."
Old dog Spot snorted.
"Youwantto see them!" he cried. "Well, nobody's stopping you. They're right here in front of you!"
Grunty Pig's mouth fell open—he was so astonished. He knew, now, what made the little, pudgy, white strangers look so queer. There wasn't one of them that had even a hint of a tail!
Then all at once Grunty turned angrily upon old dog Spot.
"These aren't pigs!" he squealed. "You needn't think you can fool me. They're not pigs at all."
"Oh, yes—they are!" Spot insisted. "You didn't suppose that all the pigs in the world were exactly like your family—did you?"
Grunty didn't know what to say. He looked at the odd little creatures again. And then he looked at Spot once more.
"If these really are pigs," he faltered, "they must be very, very young. They're certainly smaller than any day-old pigs I ever saw.... Maybe their tails haven't sprouted yet."
Old dog Spot seemed to choke over something. He turned his head away for a moment or two before he spoke.
"These pigs," he said, "won't ever have tails. Not one of them would know what to do with a tail if you gave him one.They don't want tails. They have no use for them. And now that you see for yourself how happy they are without tails, you ought not to delay any longer about having yours cut off. I hope," Spot added, "I'll see your tail nailed up on the barn to-morrow, where everybody can admire it."
Then Grunty Pig said something that surprised him.
"Why don't you have your own tail cut off?" he asked old Spot.
And before old Spot could think of an answer, Johnnie Green came running out of the woodshed.
"Get away from my guinea pigs!" he shouted.
Grunty and Spot both turned and ran in opposite directions. Grunty didn't see Spot again for more than a week. When they did at last meet, old Spot never mentionedtails at all. To tell the truth, he seemed to feel somewhat ashamed of himself for having tried to play a trick on Grunty Pig.
Or maybe he felt ashamed because he was caught at it.
Down the hill, a little way from Farmer Green's house, a great beech tree stood beside the road. In the fall, when the nuts were ripe, Johnnie Green often visited the tree. And so did Frisky Squirrel. And so, likewise, did that noisy rascal, Jasper Jay. They liked beechnuts—all three. And somehow they got the notion that the beech tree belonged to them—and to nobody else.
One fine, crisp fall day when Johnnie Green was in school, a fourth nut-lover wandered down the road, stopped right between the wheel tracks, and sniffed. Itwas Grunty Pig. "I smell beechnuts!" he cried with a joyful squeal. And crashing into the light underbrush along the roadside, he began to search among the fallen leaves with his long nose.
Soon Grunty came upon a cluster of the three-sided nuts, clinging inside a bur that the frost had split open. He ate the sweet nuts, shells and all. And with many a grunt of delight he grubbed beneath the tree from which the nuts had fallen. His keen nose led him to burs that Johnnie Green had trampled over that very morning, and missed.
"I wonder—" said Grunty Pig aloud—"I wonder why nobody ever told me about this beech tree."
"Perhaps it was because you are a pig," said a voice right over his head.
He looked up. And there on a low branch sat Frisky Squirrel. Gruntyknew him; he had sometimes seen him around Farmer Green's corncrib.
"Of course I'm a Pig," Grunty retorted. "I'm Mrs. Pig's son."
"Well, Mrs. Pig's son, I notice that you have helped yourself freely to beechnuts."
"I've eaten all I could find," Grunty told Frisky with a grin.
"I don't hear any thanks," Frisky Squirrel remarked. "Don't you know that these beechnuts belong to me and Jasper Jay and Johnnie Green?"
"Umph!"
"You did?" Frisky inquired.
"Umph!"
"Oh, you didn't!" Frisky exclaimed. "Then I suppose I shall have to pardon you. But Jasper Jay wouldn't, if he caught you taking any of the nuts that fall from this tree."
There was truth in what Frisky said.Even as he spoke a patch of blue flashed in the top of the beech tree. And a harsh voice sang out, "What's going on here?"
Jasper Jay had arrived.
Grunty Pig, however, did not even give Jasper a glance. Instead, he began nosing about for another beechnut bur.
For a moment or two Jasper Jay watched him. And then Jasper began to squawk.
"Stop that!" he ordered. "Don't you dare to take any of our beechnuts!"
"Umph!" said Grunty Pig. "I can't find any more on the ground. So I suppose I shall have to obey him," Grunty muttered half under his breath.
"Don't mumble! Speak up!" cried Jasper Jay. "If you have any excuses to make, let's hear them!"
While Jasper Jay, in the beech tree, waited for Grunty Pig, on the ground, to speak up and make his excuses for taking beechnuts, a bur dropped from a twig and landed right in front of Grunty's nose. He fell upon it greedily. And, tearing it open, he devoured the nuts with relish.
For a few moments his action struck Jasper Jay dumb. That blue-coated rascal turned to Frisky Squirrel, who clung to a limb near-by.
"Well, did you ever?" Jasper gasped. And then, having found his voice, Jasper began to use it on Grunty Pig.
Now, Jasper Jay was a wild fellow. He often used words that made the gentler folk in Pleasant Valley shudder. And he called Grunty Pig names that would have made many a person angry.
Grunty Pig, however, never even blinked. And after a while Jasper Jay used up all his special words, which he generally employed at such times. He gave Frisky Squirrel a helpless look.
"My! My! Isn't this chap thick-skinned?" he exclaimed.
"Certainly I am!" cried Grunty Pig. "That's why I like to wallow in mud."
"Ha!" Jasper Jay sniffed. And he spoke again to Frisky Squirrel. "This chap is thick-headed, too. I see that I'm going to have trouble making him understand what I say."
Frisky Squirrel merely grinned at his companion.
"Look here, young Porker!" Jasper called to Grunty Pig. "Doesn't Farmer Green feed you?"
The name "Porker" made Grunty Pig look up.
"I'm Mrs. Pig's son," he said. "Don't call me 'Porker'!"
"Well—Pig, then!" Jasper Jay squalled. "Doesn't Farmer Green feed you?"
"Yes!"
"Well, then—don't come here and take our nuts! Didn't your mother ever teach you that things that grow on trees—such things as nuts—belong to the people that live in the trees?"
"Does Johnnie Green live in this tree?" Grunty Pig inquired.
"He spends half his time here—or a quarter, anyhow," Jasper Jay grumbled. "And you may be sure he gets his share ofthese beechnuts. Goodness knows he leaves few enough for me and my friend here.
"Now," Jasper Jay went on, "I want you to promise not to eat any more of our nuts."
Grunty Pig shook his head.
"I can't promise that, exactly," he said. "But I'll promise not to eat any that I don't find on the ground."
"Huh!" Jasper Jay scoffed. "That means that you won't eat any nuts that you can't reach. That's no promise at all. It's nothing but a threat. It's the same as saying that you're going to eat every nut that drops off this tree."
Grunty Pig made no reply. He would have wandered on, but for a fresh breeze that had begun to whip the branches of the beech tree. He decided to wait there. More burs might fall. And Gruntywanted to be on hand to meet them when they dropped.
"Go home!" Jasper Jay shrieked at him. "Go back to your pigpen where you belong. We don't want you here." And he said many more things that were still ruder.
But Grunty Pig never showed the least sign of anger. He didn't even let Jasper Jay know that he had heard. When the wind died down he waddled off down the road. And Frisky Squirrel followed him through the tree tops. When they had travelled out of Jasper Jay's sight and hearing, Frisky asked Grunty Pig a question.
"I should like to know," he said, "how you managed to keep still when Jasper was abusing you. I know that I should have lost my temper. Can it be that you didn't hear what he said?"
"Oh, I heard him clearly enough," said Grunty. "But there was no sense in my getting angry withhim. If he had been standing on the ground near me he would never have dared talk to me as he did. Jasper Jay called me names because he was safe in the tree. If he hadn't had that tree to help him he'd never have dared say what he did.
"To tell the truth, I am a bit out of patience with that beech tree," Grunty confessed. "It played me a mean trick. And I hope there'll be a raging wind to-night that will rob it of every bur it has.... I'd uproot the beech," he added, "if I didn't like beechnuts so much."
"Well, youarean odd one," said Frisky Squirrel.
"If everybody was as odd as I am there'd be fewer Jasper Jays in the world," Grunty Pig declared.
One day when Grunty Pig was at home, in the pigpen, a squeaky voiced piped "Good morning!" to him. Looking up, Grunty saw a plump little gentleman clinging to the top board on one side of the pen.
"Good morning!" Grunty answered. "May I inquire what your name is?"
"I'm Moses Mouse," his caller replied.
"Do you live in the piggery?—or in the barn?" Grunty asked him.
"Neither!" said Moses Mouse. "I live in the farmhouse. My wife and I have a nest in the wall.... The cat's away," heexplained. "That's why I decided to stroll across the yard and visit you folks out here."
"Some people," said Grunty Pig, "have all the luck. You live in the farmhouse. Miss Kitty Cat lives in the farmhouse—when she's at home. And old dog Spot spends a good deal of his time there—especially in cold weather. It must be pleasant to have your home where there's always plenty to eat, whenever you happen to feel hungry."
"Miss Kitty Cat and old dog Spot always fare well," Mr. Mouse admitted. "But I've often gone to bed half starved. Maybe you didn't know that Mrs. Green is terribly neat. She doesn't leave much food around for us Mice."
"Well," Grunty remarked, "it's an honor, anyhow, to live in the farmhouse. You ought not to complain about the food,even if it is a bit scarce at times. I'd be glad to live there. And I dare say I'd find a plenty to eat. The farmhouse is where the sour milk comes from."
"If you feel like that," said Moses Mouse, "why don't you join us? Why don't you come to the farmhouse for the winter, anyhow?"
Grunty Pig shook his head.
"No!" he said, half to himself. "No! I can't do it."
"Why not?" Mr. Mouse wanted to know.
"I've never been invited," Grunty told him, with something like a frown.
Moses Mouse surprised him with a merry laugh.
"Ho!" he exclaimed. "Neither have I. If I had waited for an invitation I wouldn't be living in the farmhouse. I'd have shivered my days out in the barn."
Grunty Pig looked at his caller with growing interest. He would have said that so tiny a gentleman would be too timid to crowd in where he wasn't asked.
"Don't wait any longer for an invitation," Moses Mouse urged him. "Go to the farmhouse and walk right in."
"Oughtn't I to rap?" Grunty inquired.
"Certainly not!" said Moses Mouse. "Make yourself right at home. Act as if the farmhouse belonged to you. That's the way I do. And nobody ever bothers me, except Miss Kitty Cat—or Miss Snooper, as we Mice call her. Even she can't drive me away from the farmhouse. I lived there before she ever came to Pleasant Valley."
"She certainly couldn't drive me away," Grunty Pig muttered. "Besides, didn't you say she was away herself?"
"Yes!" said Moses Mouse. "And I hope she has gone for good."
"Then," said Grunty Pig, "it ought to be quite safe for me to go to the farmhouse. And as soon as I have a chance to get out of this pen I'll do as you suggest."
"Good!" cried Moses Mouse. And he said that he hoped to have many a chat with Grunty, at the farmhouse.
"Umph!" said Grunty Pig. And Mr. Mouse was much pleased, for he took that to mean "Yes!"
Grunty Pig had got out of his pen and out of the piggery, too. Ever since his talk with Moses Mouse the day before he had been hoping for a chance to escape. And shuffling across the farmyard somewhat heavily—for he was growing longer and taller and fatter every day—Grunty went straight to the woodshed door. It was open. And he walked through it. Then he clattered over the woodshed floor and peered into the kitchen. There was no one there.
For a few moments Grunty stood sniffing in the doorway. A delicious odorgreeted him. He wasn't sure what it was. A pan sat near the edge of the table. And Grunty Pig had no trouble upsetting it with his nose.
Doughnuts rolled in every direction—crisp, brown, freshly fried doughnuts. And Grunty Pig showed that he was thoughtful. He went to the trouble of picking them all up off the floor. But he forgot to drop them back into the pan. Instead, he put every one of them into his own mouth.
"That Moses Mouse was all wrong," he murmured. "He complained of the food here. When I see him I'll have to tell him that he was mistaken. Why, I never ate anything that tasted better than these rings!"
After making sure that there was nothing else for him to devour in the kitchen Grunty Pig pushed through a door thatstood ajar. He found himself in a long, dimly lighted hall. There were doors on both sides of it. Grunty nosed around each one in turn. Not till he came to the last of all, at the further end of the hall, did he find one that wasn't shut tight. This door yielded to a little gentle pushing. And Grunty then found himself—though he did not know it—in the parlor of the farmhouse.
As he stood still and gazed about him, who should come stealing into the room but Moses Mouse.
"Ah!" said Moses in a whisper. "So you've arrived at last?"
"Yes!" said Grunty Pig. "Isn't this a fine pen? Now that I've come to the farmhouse to live I believe I'll make this pen my headquarters."
"That's a good idea," Moses Mouse told him. "Farmer Green's family don't useit often. They seldom come here unless they have company."
While he listened, Grunty Pig sidled up to a table in the center of the room and began, in an absent-minded fashion, to rub his back against it. To his surprise, the table tipped over and a lamp that had stood upon it crashed into a hundred pieces on the floor. Then a door slammed somewhere. And steps sounded in the hall.
Moses Mouse tried not to look startled.
"I must be going now," he said abruptly. "I'll see you later." Then he dashed into the fireplace and ran up the chimney.
"The accident was really your fault," Grunty called to him. "If you hadn't talked so much I'd have noticed what I was doing."
Moses Mouse, however, did not reply.And a moment later Farmer Green's wife appeared in the doorway. When she saw Grunty Pig she gave a scream. Mrs. Green couldn't help being surprised at first. But soon she began to laugh as if she would never stop.
"A pig in our parlor!" she cried. "Who ever would have thought it?"
Grunty Pig tried to explain that the broken lamp was really Moses Mouse's fault. But Mrs. Green wouldn't listen. She ran out of the room and came back at once with a broom in her hand. Then, opening the front door, she drove Grunty Pig into the yard.
"Now, I wonder why Mrs. Green put me out of the farmhouse," he muttered.
Suddenly an idea popped into his head. "It must be," he cried, "because I told tales. I tattled on Moses Mouse; and Mrs. Green didn't like it. Next time I'llbe careful about what I say to her."
There never was a next time. Perhaps Farmer Green took pains to keep the door of Grunty's pen shut. Perhaps Farmer Green made the fence outside the piggery "hog tight," as he would say. Or perhaps Grunty Pig grew so fat that he couldn't squeeze through any ordinary opening.
Anyhow, Grunty never set foot inside the farmhouse again. After a while he didn't care. The bigger he was, the less he liked to roam about. And at last Farmer Green began calling him his "prize hog."
So you can see how very fat he must have been.
THE END
Little Jack Rabbit Books(Trademark Registered.)By DAVID CORYAuthor of "Little Journeys to Happyland"
Colored Wrappers With Text Illustrations.
A new and unique series about the furred and feathered little people of the wood and meadow.
Children will eagerly follow the doings of little Jack Rabbit, and the clever way in which he escapes from his three enemies, Danny Fox, Mr. Wicked Wolf and Hungry Hawk will delight the youngsters.
LITTLE JACK RABBIT'S ADVENTURESLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND DANNY FOXLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND THE SQUIRREL BROTHERSLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND CHIPPY CHIPMUNKLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND THE BIG BROWN BEARLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND UNCLE JOHN HARELITTLE JACK RABBIT AND PROFESSOR CROWLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND OLD MAN WEASELLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND MR. WICKED WOLFLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND HUNGRY HAWKLITTLE-JACK RABBIT AND THE POLICEMAN DOGLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND MISS MOUSIELITTLE JACK RABBIT AND UNCLE LUCKYLITTLE JACK RABBIT AND THE YELLOW DOG TRAMP
Grosset & Dunlap,Publishers, NEW YORK
THE PUSS-IN-BOOTS, Jr. SERIESBy DAVID CORYAuthor of "The Little Jack Rabbit Stories" and "LittleJourneys to Happyland"
Handsomely Bound. Colored Wrappers. Illustrated.Each Volume Complete in Itself.
To know Puss Junior once is to love him forever. That's the way all the little people feel about this young, adventurous cat, son of a very famous father.
THE ADVENTURES OF PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.FURTHER ADVENTURES OF PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.IN FAIRYLANDTRAVELS OF PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr.PUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND OLD MOTHER GOOSEPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., IN NEW MOTHER GOOSE LANDPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND THE GOOD GRAY HORSEPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND TOM THUMBPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND ROBINSON CRUSOEPUSS-IN-BOOTS,Jr., AND THE MAN IN THE MOON
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
HAPPY HOME SERIESBy HOWARD R. GARIS
Individual Colored Wrappers and Colored Illustrations byLANG CAMPBELL
Mr. Garis has written many stories for boys and girls, among them his Uncle Wiggly volumes, but these books are something distinctly new, surprising and entertaining.
ADVENTURES OF THE GALLOPING GAS STOVE
A tale of how Gassy mysteriously disappeared, and how he came riding home on the back of an elephant. It is also related how he broke his leg, and fed a hungry family in a cottage near a lake.
ADVENTURES of the RUNAWAY ROCKING CHAIR
Racky creaked and groaned when fat Grandma sat on him too hard. He felt himself ill-treated, so he vanished. He did not intend to take Grandma's glasses with him, but he did. And he rocked a bunny to sleep.
ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVELING TABLE
Tippy, the table, always wanted to travel and see the world, but he did not know how to start. Until, all of a sudden, a diamond ring was hidden in his leg and a balloon carried him off through the air.
ADVENTURES OF THE SLIDING FOOT STOOL
Just because he did not want to be used as a milking stool by the Maiden All Forlorn, Skiddy slid away Christmas eve. With him went Jack the Jumper, and they had a wonderful time in the top shop.
ADVENTURES OF THE SAILING SOFA
Skippy always wanted to be a sailor. When the high water came in the spring, the sofa went sailing. He had a Rooster for a crew, while Tatter, the rag doll with one shoe button eye, was Captain.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS
Attractively Bound. Illustrated. Colored Wrappers.
THE MARJORIE BOOKS
Marjorie is a happy little girl of twelve, up to mischief, but full of goodness and sincerity. In her and her friends every girl reader will see much of her own love of fun, play and adventure.
MARJORIE'S VACATIONMARJORIE'S BUSY DAYSMARJORIE'S NEW FRIENDMARJORIE IN COMMANDMARJORIE'S MAYTIMEMARJORIE AT SEACOTE
THE TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES
Introducing Dorinda Fayre—a pretty blonde, sweet, serious, timid and a little slow, and Dorothy Rose—a sparkling brunette, quick, elf-like, high tempered, full of mischief and always getting into scrapes.
TWO LITTLE WOMENTWO LITTLE WOMEN AND TREASURE HOUSETWO LITTLE WOMEN ON A HOLIDAY
THE DICK AND DOLLY BOOKS
Dick and Dolly are brother and sister, and their games, their pranks, their joys and sorrows, are told in a manner which makes the stories "really true" to young readers.
DICK AND DOLLYDICK AND DOLLY'S ADVENTURES
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, New York