The children stared at her a good deal, for no doubt they too had heard about the fire, and many had seen her on her pony; but she was so friendly in her manner that the girls soon overcame their shyness and began to talk with her.
There was one particularly pretty girl who was especially nice to Tiny, and gave her half her apple to eat. There was another little girl whose mother combed her hair in one braid at the back of her head. Just as she started to talk with Tiny, one of the boys came along, and pulled the little girl’s hair.
“Hello, Piggy,” he said. “Hello, Piggy. Piggy-wiggy, Piggy-wiggy.”
“Oh, dear,” said the little girl, “I do wish they wouldn’t call me names.”
“For shame!” Tiny called to the boy. “It is dreadfully rude for you to call names. I won’t like you one bit if you call names.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the boy. “I don’t care! Piggy-wiggy wears a pig-tail.”
“Never mind, dear,” said Tiny. “I believe I can make him stop.”
Then the bell rang.
After school Tiny went to the boy. “Listen,” she said, “what’ll you take to stop calling names?”
“What’ll I take?” repeated the boy.