where they broke to slivers.

While his poor mother was helping the clerk clean up the scattered glass, Blacky-ears pried open her purse and sent the change jingling to the floor. Poor Mother Grunty! She was almost ready to give up!

At the next crossing Bad Boy Mischief merely tugged at Blacky-ears' sleeve, and Blacky turned slyly down the side street and was hidden in the crowd.

Mother Grunty realized with a start that she and Little-wee Pig were alone. "Blacky-ears!" she called piteously. "Oh-h-h, what shall I do!" But if Blacky-ears heard, he pretended not to, and at last poor, sorrowful Mother Grunty took Little-wee Pig by the hand and started for the station.

Blacky-ears did not care—not he! He was so foolish that he was glad! "Guess I'm smart enough to go it alone," he told himself. "I hate folks always fussing over me!"

But when darkness settled down over the city, he felt uneasy. He began to tire of gazing at shop windows.

"Guess I'll get a drink," he thought. But where?

On and on he wandered. Although he did not notice it, the stores had been left behind and the houses were growing fewer, and farther and farther apart. Suddenly he stopped and looked about him. "Why, I'm out in the country," he exclaimed. "Now I can find a well of good water. It's rather smart of me to come out where I can find a drink!"

But finding a well seemed not so easy, after all. It was dreadfully dark, now that the street lights were far behind. Somehow, the night was full of noises he had never before heard. "Maybe the moon will come up by and by," he told himself. "It wouldn't be so bad if I had a drink and—"

A long drawn-out howl made him tremble with fright! He knew that sound, though never before had he heard it. Had not Mother Grunty told him often just what noise the Wandering Wolf made when he came to eat up her two fat brothers!

Blacky-ears never looked to left or to right. He did not dare. He simply broke into a run! He had no time to remember how tired and thirsty and hungry he was. He remembered only one thing—that a dreadful wolf had howled!

Down went his poor little face kersplash! in the mud. He could not breathe through his poor bruised, muddy nose. But up he jumped and on he ran. Great muddy tears rolled off his face onto the ground, but never once did he dare to think of stopping. Something hurt inside. Every few steps he stumbled. Then he fell and could not move or cry out.

He remembered not at all that someone picked him up and dragged him into shelter. He lay very still for a long time. Finally, he slowly opened his eyes, and there stood the one person in the whole world he wanted to see—his mother.

Yes, he had run for miles and had fallen exhausted near his own front gate and right at the feet of Mother Grunty, who was watching anxiously for any sign of her lost boy.

Never had the little brick house seemed so safe and cozy. "I'll be good, Mother," he promised in a very weak voice. "I'll—I'll never-r-r disobey again!" he sobbed.

And poor, patient Mother Grunty believed him and gathered him into her strong mother arms where he went quietly off to sleep.

MOTHER PORKY GOES VISITING

Monday morning! And such a busy Monday morning in the little brick house! Mother Grunty was washing clothes. The house was a bit neglected, or so Mother Grunty thought, though a stranger entering it would never have guessed it to be so.

The kitchen was steaming with hot suds as Mother Grunty hurried to rub the clothes and feed her wringer so that Blacky-ears could turn it before starting for school. And there at the table sat Little-wee, book in hand, reading, "The clock strikes 11. How many hours ago did it strike 2?" At eight-thirty off hurried Blacky-ears and Little-wee.

"Good-by now, dearies. Do be careful of the crossings! Little-wee, your shoelace is dragging. There! that's better! You don't want to be called Johnny shoestrings, do you?" And then, though she was so very busy, Mother Grunty stood at the door smiling happily as her two trim little piglets trotted off to school.

"Well," she said to herself as she turned back toward the kitchen, "now I simply must go to work if I am ever to finish before night." Then back to her washtub she whisked.

She had just caught up her clothes basket and taken steps toward the back door when "Ringle, ringle, ring!" chimed the front doorbell. With a sigh, Mother Grunty put down her basket, tied on a fresh gingham apron, and went to open her door. And when she had thrown it wide, whom should she see but her very dear friend Mother Porky, with three of her very lovely but very lively little pigs!

"Well, well, well, this is a real surprise! Come right in," said dear, good Mother Grunty.

"I hope it is not too much of a surprise. We know Monday is wash day," smiled Mother Porky.

"No, not at all,—not at all, when such good friends as you come in!" And Mother Grunty really meant what she said, though she could not help worrying a bit about her well-nigh empty bread box and her large washing.

When hats and coats and rubbers had been put away and the four were comfortably settled around the fireplace, Mother Grunty told them all about her washing and about her untidy house and about her "picked-up" dinner. But she told them in such a nice way, such a nice, kindly, cordial way, that good Mother Porky had not the slightest reason to feel unwelcome.

"I don't know when I have had breakfast dishes to wash at this hour," laughed Mother Grunty as she returned to the kitchen, followed by Mother Porky and the three lovely little piglets.

"Now, my dears, you run outside and play," Mother Porky urged. "Blacky-ears and Little-wee have a nice swing and so many playthings out there, just you go on out now."

"All right," the two oldest agreed, but Little-tot, the baby of the family, wanted to stay with her mother. So Mother Grunty found some pictures and crayons and a pencil, and soon Little-tot was settled at one end of the kitchen table, while Mother Grunty and Mother Porky worked away at the breakfast dishes.

And such a good visit as they were having when shrieks and cries made them hurry to the kitchen door and out onto the porch.

"Where are they!" exclaimed Mother Porky, but even as she asked, one of her piglets came running toward her.

"Mamma! Oh, Mamma! Oh, Mamma! Do you know—?" Her breath gave out completely and she had to stop. "Oh, Mamma!" she began once more.

"Tell us what's wrong," urged Mother Grunty rather sharply.

"Oh, Mamma! Pinky is hung up! She's hung up in the oak tree!" she finally managed to say.

"What do you mean?" the two asked in one breath, as they hurried in the direction of the old oak. But when they came nearer the tree, they both gasped in surprise. The question had answered itself.

"What do you mean, Pinky! What do you mean! Haven't I always told you not to climb trees! Now, how ever are you expecting to get down!" scolded Mother Porky.

But Mother Grunty could do nothing but laugh and laugh and laugh. "Guess you won't need to scold her. She is taking her punishment right now," she said.

And if you could have seen Pinky, you would have laughed with Mother Grunty and you would have agreed with her too. Swinging from an old stub of a dead limb was Pinky Porky. Her pretty new skirt of stout tan