Old Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with a chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco.

She had been having a complete turn out and spring cleaning, to relieve her feelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was wondering anxiously what she would do next.

In Mr. Tod's kitchen, amidst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his way to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the oven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He lifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.

"I've got them! Can we get away?

Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?"

Peter p.r.i.c.ked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the wood.

Five minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down Bull Banks, half carrying, half dragging a sack between them, b.u.mpetty b.u.mp over the gra.s.s. They reached home safely, and burst into the rabbit hole.

Great was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and Benjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit babies were rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed.

They soon recovered.

A new long pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to Mr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.

Old Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and Benjamin told their story--but they had not waited long enough to be able to tell the end of the battle between Tommy Brock and Mr.

Tod.

THE TALE OF PIGLING BLAND

[For Cicily and Charlie, a Tale of the Christmas Pig]

Once upon a time there was an old pig called Aunt Pett.i.toes. She had eight of a family: four little girl pigs, called Cross-patch, Suck-suck, Yock-yock and Spot; and four little boy pigs, called Alexander, Pigling Bland, Chin-Chin and Stumpy.

Stumpy had had an accident to his tail.

The eight little pigs had very fine appet.i.tes--"Yus, yus, yus! they eat and indeed they DO eat!" said Aunt Pett.i.toes, looking at her family with pride. Suddenly there were fearful squeals; Alexander had squeezed inside the hoops of the pig trough and stuck.

Aunt Pett.i.toes and I dragged him out by the hind legs.

Chin-chin was already in disgrace; it was washing day, and he had eaten a piece of soap. And presently in a basket of clean clothes, we found another dirty little pig--"Tchut, tut, tut! whichever is this?" grunted Aunt Pett.i.toes.

Now all the pig family are pink, or pink with black spots, but this pig child was s.m.u.tty black all over; when it had been popped into a tub, it proved to be Yock-yock.

I went into the garden; there I found Cross-patch and Suck-suck rooting up carrots. I whipped them myself and led them out by the ears. Cross-patch tried to bite me.

"Aunt Pett.i.toes, Aunt Pett.i.toes!

you are a worthy person, but your family is not well brought up.

Every one of them has been in mischief except Spot and Pigling Bland."

"Yus, yus!" sighed Aunt Pett.i.toes.

"And they drink bucketfuls of milk; I shall have to get another cow!

Good little Spot shall stay at home to do the housework; but the others must go. Four little boy pigs and four little girl pigs are too many altogether." "Yus, yus, yus," said Aunt Pett.i.toes, "there will be more to eat without them."

So Chin-chin and Suck-suck went away in a wheel-barrow, and Stumpy, Yock-yock and Cross- patch rode away in a cart.

And the other two little boy pigs, Pigling Bland and Alexander went to market. We brushed their coats, we curled their tails and washed their little faces, and wished them good bye in the yard.

Aunt Pett.i.toes wiped her eyes with a large pocket handkerchief, then she wiped Pigling Bland's nose and shed tears; then she wiped Alexander's nose and shed tears; then she pa.s.sed the handkerchief to Spot. Aunt Pett.i.toes sighed and grunted, and addressed those little pigs as follows--

"Now Pigling Bland, son Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Take your brother Alexander by the hand. Mind your Sunday clothes, and remember to blow your nose"

--(Aunt Pett.i.toes pa.s.sed round the handkerchief again)--"beware of traps, hen roosts, bacon and eggs; always walk upon your hind legs."

Pigling Bland who was a sedate little pig, looked solemnly at his mother, a tear trickled down his cheek.

Aunt Pett.i.toes turned to the other--"Now son Alexander take the hand"--"Wee, wee, wee!"

giggled Alexander--"take the hand of your brother Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Mind--" "Wee, wee, wee!" interrupted Alexander again. "You put me out," said Aunt Pett.i.toes--"Observe signposts and milestones; do not gobble herring bones--" "And remember," said I impressively, "if you once cross the county boundary you cannot come back. Alexander, you are not attending. Here are two licenses permitting two pigs to go to market in Lancashire. Attend Alexander. I have had no end of trouble in getting these papers from the policeman."

Pigling Bland listened gravely; Alexander was hopelessly volatile.

I pinned the papers, for safety, inside their waistcoat pockets; Aunt Pett.i.toes gave to each a little bundle, and eight conversation peppermints with appropriate moral sentiments in screws of paper. Then they started.

Pigling Bland and Alexander trotted along steadily for a mile; at least Pigling Bland did. Alexander made the road half as long again by skipping from side to side. He danced about and pinched his brother, singing--

"This pig went to market, this pig stayed at home, "This pig had a bit of meat--

let's see what they have given US for dinner, Pigling?"

Pigling Bland and Alexander sat down and untied their bundles.

Alexander gobbled up his dinner in no time; he had already eaten all his own peppermints--"Give me one of yours, please, Pigling?" "But I wish to preserve them for emergencies," said Pigling Bland doubtfully. Alexander went into squeals of laughter. Then he p.r.i.c.ked Pigling with the pin that had fastened his pig paper; and when Pigling slapped him he dropped the pin, and tried to take Pigling's pin, and the papers got mixed up. Pigling Bland reproved Alexander.

But presently they made it up again, and trotted away together, singing--

"Tom, Tom the piper's son, stole a pig and away he ran!

"But all the tune that he could play, was 'Over the hills and far away!'"

"What's that, young Sirs? Stole a pig? Where are your licenses?" said the policeman. They had nearly run against him round a corner. Pigling Bland pulled out his paper; Alexander, after fumbling, handed over something scrumply--

"To 2 1/2 oz. conversation sweeties at three farthings"--"What's this?

this ain't a license?" Alexander's nose lengthened visibly, he had lost it. "I had one, indeed I had, Mr.

Policeman!"

"It's not likely they let you start without. I am pa.s.sing the farm.

You may walk with me." "Can I come back too?" inquired Pigling Bland. "I see no reason, young Sir; your paper is all right." Pigling Bland did not like going on alone, and it was beginning to rain. But it is unwise to argue with the police; he gave his brother a peppermint, and watched him out of sight.

To conclude the adventures of Alexander--the policeman sauntered up to the house about tea time, followed by a damp subdued little pig. I disposed of Alexander in the neighborhood; he did fairly well when he had settled down.

Pigling Bland went on alone dejectedly; he came to cross roads and a sign-post--"To Market-town 5 miles," "Over the Hills, 4 miles,"

"To Pett.i.toes Farm, 3 miles."

Pigling Bland was shocked, there was little hope of sleeping in Market Town, and tomorrow was the hiring fair; it was deplorable to think how much time had been wasted by the frivolity of Alexander.

He glanced wistfully along the road towards the hills, and then set off walking obediently the other way, b.u.t.toning up his coat against the rain. He had never wanted to go; and the idea of standing all by himself in a crowded market, to be stared at, pushed, and hired by some big strange farmer was very disagreeable--