"Oh dear!" thought Squinty, when he heard this. "So I am to learn more
tricks, it seems. Well, I hope they will all be eating ones."

"Make him do it again," suggested Mollie, after a bit.

"No, I haven't any more apples," the boy answered. "And at first I'll
have to make him jump for an apple each time. After a bit I'll not give
him an apple until he has done all his tricks. Come on now, Squinty,
back to your pen."

The boy lifted up his pet, and put him back in the pen that had been
especially built for the little pig. As soon as he was in it Squinty ran
over to the trough, hoping there would be some sour milk in it. But
there was none.

"You've had enough to eat for a while," said the boy with a laugh.
"Later on I'll give you your milk."

"Uff! Uff!" grunted Squinty, and I suppose he meant he would be glad to
have the milk now. But he got none, so he curled himself up in the clean
straw and went to sleep.

When he awakened, he thought at first he was back in the pen at home,
and he cried out:

"Oh, Wuff-Wuff! Oh, Twisty Tail. I had the queerest dream! I thought a
boy had me, and that I could jump a rope, and hunt acorns, and do lots
of tricks. But I--!" And then Squinty stopped. He looked around and
found himself all alone in the new pen. None of his brothers or sisters