THE CONCEITED PIG.

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THE CONCEITED PIG.

One cold November evening several littlepigs were lying very comfortably in theirsty, and keeping themselves warm byburying their noses under the straw, whenone who had been routing about veryuneasily for some time gave a loud gruntall at once, and seemed to be very muchfrightened. His mother, the old sow,who was stretched in one corner of the[6]sty fast asleep, opened her little browneyes, and asked in a very angry voicewhat was the matter. Several of thelittle pigs answered at once that it wasonly Wilful who was making such a noisethat nobody could go to sleep.

“Hush, hush, hush!” cried Wilful, assoon as his brothers were silent; “hush!do not you hear a great cracking andnoise the other side of the yard? I amquite sure that the stables are on fire.Had not we better all go and help to putit out directly?”

“Nonsense and stuff, you foolish littlefellow!” exclaimed his mother; “youare always fancying something or otheris the matter, and wanting to poke yournose into things that don’t concern you.I cannot hear any noise at all, and I beg[7]you will be quiet, and let me go to sleepagain.”

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The little pig did not dare answer hismother, so he lay quite still for a minuteor two, hoping that he should hear thesame noise again. And presently he didhear it, louder than before, and therecould be no doubt that more than usualwas going on about the premises. Helooked round to see what his motherwould say now; but she had fallen fastasleep again, and two or three of hisbrothers were snoring very loud. Hislittle brother Fatsides was lying close tohim, and Wilful thought by the twinklingof his eyes that he was not really asleep;so he gave him a kick, and said in a verylow voice, for fear his mother should hearhim, “Fatsides, Fatsides, do you hear?[8]there is that strange noise come back thatI heard before. Do just listen. Whatcan it be?”

“Oh, I dare say it is nothing but thehorses in the stable, or that wretched oldHector rattling his everlasting chain,”answered Fatsides. “You know theother night when you woke us all up itturned out to be nothing but Buttercuprubbing her horns against the crib.”

“Ah, very likely,” interrupted Wilful;“but this is a very different thing.There, just hear that strange poppingsound; depend upon it, either the stablesare on fire, or there are a number of thosefrightful great blue butchers killing andcarrying off all the cows. I am determined,at any rate, that I will go and seewhat is the matter.”

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