meeting. I think I'll stay—and have a bit of fun!"
So he stood in a corner, and then, when he had a chance to do it, he slipped his hand under the cushion and took out the pig. He stood it on the mantelpiece.
He shook it and the money jingled. Then Pink-Whistle made a grunting noise, just like a little pig, and spoke in a funny, piggy voice.
"Take me back, take me back!"
Mr. Crooky, the man who lived in the cottage, looked up, very startled, and so did his friend. It seemed to them as if the money¬box pig on the mantelpiece was jigging up and down and talking. They couldn't see Pink-Whistle moving it, of course.
"How extraordinary!" said the friend. Mr. Crooky got up and took hold of the pig very roughly. He took it into the kitchen and put it on the dresser there. He slammed the door and came back. There was a knock at the front door and two more men came in to the meeting.
Pink-Whistle grinned. He slipped quietly into the kitchen, found the pig, came back, shut the kitchen door softly, and, when no one was looking, placed the pig on the mantelpiece again!
Then he jiggled it hard and grunted in a piggy way again, talking in a funny, squeaky voice. "Take me back! Take me back! I don't belong to you. Take me back!"
"HOW EXTRAORDINARY!" SAID CROOKY'S FRIEND.
All the four men stopped talking and stared in astonishment at the jigging pig. Mr. Crooky went very red and looked most alarmed. How had that pig got down from the dresser, opened the kitchen door, and got back to the mantelpiece? How was it that it grunted and jiggled and talked like that? It must be magic!
"What does it mean, saying that it wants to be taken back?" asked one of the men. "Doesn't it belong to you?"
"Of course it does," said Mr. Crooky. "I can't imagine what's come over the pig. I never knew a tin pig behave like that before."
"Oh, you bad story-teller, oh, you wicked man!" squeaked Pink-Whistle, making the pig dance all round the mantelpiece as if it was angry. "You stole me! You know you did! Take me back, take me back!"
"This is very strange," said one of the men, looking hard at Crooky. "What does it mean?"
"Nothing. It's just a silly joke of some sort," said Mr. Crooky, beginning to tremble. "I'll throw the pig into the dust-bin."
So he snatched it up, went into the yard and threw the pig hard into the dust-bin. He slammed on the lid and went back to the house. How tiresome of this to happen just when he had called a meeting to ask his friends to give him money to start a shop! Now they might not trust him!
Pink-Whistle had gone into the yard with Mr. Crooky. As soon as Crooky had gone back, Pink-Whistle took off the lid and fished out the pig. It was covered with tea-leaves.
Pink-Whistle crept to the window. It was open. To the men's enormous surprise, the money-box pig suddenly appeared on the window-sill, jigging and capering like mad, and a grunting voice could be heard at the same time. Then came the squeaky, piggy voice.
"You bad man! You put me in the dust-bin! I'm covered with tea-leaves—but you ought to be covered with shame! You stole me from those children. You know you did. Take me back, take me back!"
"This is most extraordinary and most disgraceful," said one of the men, standing up. "Mr. Crooky, take that pig back at once. If you don't, I shall call the village policeman and ask him to listen to all the pig says."
Mr. Crooky felt as if he were in a bad dream. He stared at the pig, which turned a somersault and rattled like mad. "I'm hungry!" it squeaked, "I'm hungry. You put something into me, quick! I'm hungreeeeeeeeeeeh!''
Mr. Crooky felt so frightened that he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out all the money there. He popped it into the slit in the pig's back.
"More, more!" cried the pig, and Mr. Crooky put in more and more till he had no money left. "Now take me home, home, home!" cried the pig, and leapt high into the air and back again to the window-sill. Mr. Crooky thought that either he or the