"Why don't you lay the poor little cubs down somewhere?" he asked, looking round vainly for a fit place.
"No place to put 'em, sir," said Porky, "and every time we start to move them, they clutch us and start to scream. As long as we sort of keep 'em hugged up tight, they sleep."
"It's awful—awful!" said the officer. "I wish I knew what to do with them now. There's not an asylum of any sort, not a place fit to leave them within miles and miles, and what's to become of them I don't know. Every orphan asylum in France is crowded."
"Oh, that's all right," said Porky. "We don't intend they shall go to any asylum. Our mother has adopted them."
"Your what?" asked the captain after a prolonged stare.
"Our mother," repeated Porky.
"Your mother has WHAT?" said the captain. "Just repeat it all."
"Our mother has adopted them," said Porky patiently and distinctly. The captain pushed back his cap and stared.
"Where is your mother?" he asked.
"Home," said Porky.