115
news of his return home, but they were only joking. They knew, as we did, that he was innocent, but continued to tease him, wishing to frighten other little pigs, as if they were not timid enough!
He used to come along to us, driven by sheer animal hatred of loneliness, but we always looked severe, and hid our intentions. In vain did he seek a key to them. In his absence of mind he would call us dear friends and companions, but we used to nod our heads and reply:
“Look here! They will hear you!”
Then he glanced towards the door, this little pig. Could we not make him earnest?
We laughed as men not used to laughing. He moved and merrily sat down near, narrated some story, and cried, thinking of his books left on the table, then of his mother and brothers, about whom he now knew nothing, not even
