I
suppose that was his way of saying: "Thank you!"
As soon as Squinty's brothers and sisters saw the green pig weed the
farmer's wife had tossed into the pen, up they rushed to the trough,
grunting and squealing, to get some too.
They pushed and scrambled, and even stepped into the trough, so eager
were they to get something to eat; even though they had been fed only a
little while before.
That is one strange thing about pigs. They seem to be always hungry. And
Squinty's brothers and sisters were no different from other pigs.
But wait just a moment. They were a bit different, for they were much
cleaner than many pigs I have seen. The farmer who owned them knew that
pigs do not like to live in mud and dirt any more than do cows and
horses, so this farmer had for his pigs a nice pen, with a dry board
floor, and plenty of corn husks for their bed. They had clean water to
drink, and a shady place in which to lie down and sleep.
Of course there was a mud bath in the pig pen, for, no matter how clean
pigs are, once in a while they like to roll in the mud.
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