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After another pause, Pigling approached the door of the locked cupboard, and snuffed at the keyhole. It was quite quiet.

After another long pause, Pigling pushed a peppermint under the door. It was sucked in immediately.

In the course of the day Pigling pushed in all his remaining six peppermints.

When Mr. Piperson returned, he found Pigling sitting before the fire; he had brushed up the hearth and put on the pot to boil; the meal was not get-at-able.

Mr. Piperson was very affable; he slapped Pigling on the back, made lots of porridge and forgot to lock the meal chest. He did lock the cupboard door; but without properly shutting it. He went to bed early, and told Pigling upon no account to disturb him next day before twelve o’clock.

Pigling Bland sat by the fire, eating his supper.

All at once at his elbow, a little voice spoke–“My name is Pig-wig. Make me more porridge, please!” Pigling Bland jumped, and looked round.

A perfectly lovely little black Berkshire pig stood smiling beside him. She had twinkly little screwed up eyes, a double chin, and a short turned up nose.

She pointed at Pigling’s plate; he hastily gave it to her, and fled to the meal chest–“How did you come here?” asked Pigling Bland.

“Stolen,” replied Pig-wig, with her mouth full. Pigling helped himself to meal without scruple. “What for?” “Bacon, hams,” replied Pig- wig cheerfully. “Why on earth don’t you run away?” exclaimed the horrified Pigling.

“I shall after supper,” said Pig- wig decidedly.

Pigling Bland made more porridge and watched her shyly.

She finished a second plate, got up, and looked about her, as though she were going to start.

“You can’t go in the dark,” said Pigling Bland.

Pig-wig looked anxious.

“Do you know your way by day- light?”

“I know we can see this little white house from the hills across the river. Which way are you going, Mr. Pig?”

“To market–I have two pig papers. I might take you to the bridge; if you have no objection,” said Pigling much confused and sitting on the edge of his coppy stool. Pig- wig’s gratitude was such and she asked so many questions that it became embarrassing to Pigling Bland.

He was obliged to shut his eyes and pretend to sleep. She became quiet, and there was a smell of peppermint.

“I thought you had eaten them?” said Pigling, waking suddenly.

“Only the corners,” replied Pig- wig, studying the sentiments with much interest by the firelight.

“I wish you wouldn’t; he might smell them through the ceiling,” said the alarmed Pigling.

Pig-wig put back the sticky peppermints into her pocket; “Sing something,” she demanded.

“I am sorry. . . I have tooth- ache,” said Pigling much dismayed.

“Then I will sing,” replied Pig- wig, “You will not mind if I say iddy tidditty? I have forgotten some of the words.”

Pigling Bland made no objection; he sat with his eyes half shut, and watched her.

She wagged her head and rocked about, clapping time and singing in a sweet little grunty voice–

“A funny old mother pig lived in a stye,
and three little piggies had she;
“(Ti idditty idditty) umph, umph,
umph! and the little pigs said wee,
wee!”

She sang successfully through three or four verses, only at every verse her head nodded a little lower, and her little twinkly eyes closed up–

“Those three little piggies grew peaky
and lean, and lean they might very
well be;
“For somehow they couldn’t say umph,
umph, umph! and they wouldn’t
say wee, wee, wee!
“For somehow they couldn’t say–

Pig-wig’s head bobbed lower and lower, until she rolled over, a little round ball, fast asleep on the hearth-rug.

Pigling Bland, on tiptoe, covered her up with an antimacassar.

He was afraid to go to sleep himself; for the rest of the night he sat listening to the chirping of the crickets and to the snores of Mr. Piperson overhead.

Early in the morning, between dark and daylight, Pigling tied up his little bundle and woke up Pig- wig. She was excited and half- frightened. “But it’s dark! How can we find our way?”