The pig got out, but he made straight for the barnyard where Welcome Hodgkins was feeding the chickens. There was a scattering of poultry as the pig dashed beneath a wagon in the middle of the yard, landing Stubbins—bump—swish! on his back in the mud.
"Sthop the pig," cried Stubbins, struggling to his feet, "sthop my pig I thay!"
"See here, youngster, that's my pig!" declared Welcome Hodgkins. "Who are you, anyway, and what are you trying to do with my pig?"
"I'm Thubbinth, and I wath taking the pig to my houthe. I didn't know it wath your pig, and I didn't come to thee you, tho there!"
CHAPTER VII
PIGS IN THE ATTIC
Stubbins Mulvaney was naturally honest. Mr. Welcome Hodgkins was kind. So it came about that when the man talked pleasantly to the muddy boy about the rights of farmers and the ownership of pigs in particular, the child grew red in the face and looked uncomfortable.
"Thay!" he burst out, "I geth I thole five pigth. That boy thed pigth wath wild, tho I took thome home. I put 'em up sthairth, where they'd keep thafe. Do you th'pothe they wath your pigth?"
"Of course they were my pigs," replied the man, "and you must take them carefully back to the field. Wait a minute! If you go to your mother all covered with mud I'll warrant you'll get spanked."
"Thath nothing," was the reply, "ma ith uthed to mud and if I get thpanked I ith uthed to that, tho ith all right. Thay! I like pigs. Do you care if I thee you feed your pigth?"