UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE SECOND PIG
"There! It's all done!" exclaimed Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the nice
muskrat lady housekeeper, who, with Uncle Wiggily Longears, the
rabbit gentleman, was staying in the Littletail rabbit house, since
the hollow-stump bungalow had burned down.
"What's all done?" asked Uncle Wiggily, looking over the tops of his
spectacles.
"These jam tarts I baked for Billie and Nannie Wagtail, the goat
children," said Nurse Jane. "Will you take them with you when you go
out for a walk, Uncle Wiggily, and leave them at the goat house?"
"I most certainly will," said the rabbit gentleman, very politely.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Nurse Jane?"
But the muskrat lady wanted nothing more, and, wrapping up the jam
tarts in a napkin so they would not catch cold, she gave them to Mr.
Longears to take to the two goat children.
Uncle Wiggily was walking along, wondering what sort of an adventure
he would have that day, or whether he would meet Mother Goose again,
when all at once he heard a voice speaking from behind some bushes.
"Yes, I think I will build my house here," the voice said. "The wolf
is sure to find me anyhow, and I might as well have it over with.
I'll make my house here."
Uncle Wiggily looked over the bushes, and there he saw a funny
little animal boy, with some pieces of wood on his shoulder.
"Hello!" cried Uncle Wiggily, making his nose twinkle in a most
jilly-jolly way. "Who are you, and what are you going to do?"
"Why, I am Squeaker, the second little pig, and I am going to make a
house of wood," was the answer. "Don't you remember how it reads in
the Mother Goose book? 'Once upon a time there were three little
pigs, named Grunter, Squeaker and----'"
"Oh, yes, I remember!" Uncle Wiggily said. "I met your brother
Grunter yesterday, and helped him build his straw house."
"That was kind of you," spoke Squeaker. "I suppose the bad old wolf
got him, though. Too bad! Well, it can't be helped, as it is that
way in the book."
[Illustration: "Little pig! Little pig!
Let me come in!"]
Uncle Wiggily didn't say anything about having saved Grunter, for he
wanted to surprise Squeaker, so the rabbit gentleman just twinkled
his nose again and asked:
"May I have the pleasure of helping you build your house of wood?"
"Indeed you may, thank you," said Squeaker. "I suppose the old wolf
will be along soon, so we had better hurry to get the house
finished."
Then the second little pig and Uncle Wiggily built the wooden house.
When it was almost finished Uncle Wiggily went out near the back
door, and began piling up some cakes of ice to make a sort of box.
"What are you doing?" asked Squeaker.
"Oh, I'm just making a place where I can put these jam tarts I have
for Nannie and Billie Wagtail," the rabbit gentleman answered. "I
don't want the wolf to get them when he blows down your house."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Squeaker. "I rather wish, now, he didn't have to
blow over my nice wooden house, and get me. But he has to, I s'pose,
'cause it's in the book."
Still, Uncle Wiggily didn't say anything, but he just sort of
blinked his eyes and twinkled his pink nose, until, all of a sudden,
Squeaker looked across the snowy fields, and he cried:
"Here comes the bad old wolf now!"
And, surely enough, along came the growling, howling creature. He
ran up to the second little pig's wooden house, and, rapping on the
door with his paw, cried:
"Little pig! Little pig! Let me come in!"
"No, no! By the hair on my chinny-chin-chin I will not let you in,"
said the second little pig, bravely.
"Then I'll puff and I'll blow, and I'll puff and I'll blow, and blow
your house in!" howled the wolf.
Then he puffed out his cheeks, and he took a long breath and he blew
with all his might and main and suddenly:
"Cracko!"
Down went the wooden house of the second little piggie, and only
that Uncle Wiggily and Squeaker jumped to one side they would have
been squashed as flat as a pancake, or even two pancakes.
"Quick!" cried the rabbit gentleman in the piggie boy's ear. "This
way! Come with me!"
"Where are we going?" asked Squeaker, as he followed the rabbit
gentleman over the cracked and broken boards, which were all that
was left of the house.
"We are going to the little cabin that I made out of cakes of ice,
behind your wooden house," said Uncle Wiggily. "I put the jam tarts
in it, but there is also room for us, and we can hide there until
the bad wolf goes off."
"Well, that isn't the way it is in the book," said the second little
pig. "But----"
"No matter!" cried Uncle Wiggily. "Hurry!" So he and Squeaker hid in
the ice cabin back of the blown-down house, and when the bad wolf
came poking along among the broken boards, to get the little pig, he
couldn't find him. For Uncle Wiggily had closed the door of the ice
place, and as it was partly covered with snow the wolf could not see
through.
"Oh, dear!" howled the wolf. "That's twice I've been fooled by those
pigs! It isn't like the book at all. I wonder where he can have
gone?"
But he could not find Squeaker or Uncle Wiggily either, and finally
the wolf's nose became so cold from sniffing the ice that he had to
go home to warm it, and so Uncle Wiggily and Squeaker were safe.
"Oh, I don't know how to thank you," said the second little piggie
boy as the rabbit gentleman took him home to Mother Goose, after
having left the jam tarts at the home of the Wagtail goats.
"Pray do not mention it," spoke Uncle Wiggily, modest like, and shy.
"It was just an adventure for me."
He had another adventure the following day, Uncle Wiggily did. And
if the dusting brush doesn't go swimming in the soap dish, and get
all lather so that it looks like a marshmallow cocoanut cake, I'll
tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the third little pig.