<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>THE TALE OF<br/> GRUNTY PIG</h1>
<h2>BY</h2>
<h2>ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY</h2>
<h3>I</h3><h3>THE RUNT</h3>
<p>He was the smallest of seven children. At first his mother thought she
would call him "Runty." But she soon changed her mind about that; for
she discovered that even if he was the runt of the family, he had the
loudest grunt of all. So the good lady made haste to slip a G in front
of the name "Runty."</p>
<p>"There!" she exclaimed. "'Grunty' is a name that you ought to be proud
of. It calls attention to your best point. And if<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</SPAN></span> you keep on making as
much noise in the world as you do now, maybe people won't notice that
you're a bit undersized. You certainly sound as big as any little shote
I ever saw or heard."</p>
<p>So that was settled—though Grunty Pig didn't care one way or another.
He seemed to be interested in nothing but food. There is no doubt that
he would have been willing to change his name a dozen times a day for
the slight bribe of a drink of warm milk.</p>
<p>His mother sometimes said that he had the biggest appetite—as well as
the loudest grunt—of all her seven children. And she was glad that he
ate well, because food was the very thing that would make him grow.</p>
<p>"You won't always be runty, Grunty, if you eat a plenty," Mrs. Pig often
told him. And then he would grunt, as if to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</SPAN></span> say, "You don't need to
urge me. Just give me a chance!"</p>
<p>Grunty Pig soon learned that being the smallest of the family had one
sad drawback. His brothers and sisters (all bigger than he!) could crowd
him away from the feeding trough. And they not only <i>could</i>; but they
often <i>did</i>. Unless Grunty reached the trough among the first, there was
never a place left where he could squirm in. If he tried to eat at one
end of the trough he was sure to be shouldered away and go hungry.</p>
<p>So whenever he did succeed in getting the first taste of a meal he took
pains to plant himself in the exact middle of the trough. Then there
would be three other youngsters on each side of him, all crowding
towards him. And though he found it a bit hard to breathe under such a
squeezing, at least he got his share of the food.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Poor Mrs. Pig! Her children had frightful manners. Though she talked
and talked to them about not crowding, and about eating slowly, and
about eating noiselessly, the moment their food was poured into their
trough they forgot everything their mother had said.</p>
<p>That is, all but Grunty Pig! If he happened to be left out in the cold,
so to speak, and had to stand and look on while his brothers and sister
stuffed themselves, he couldn't help remembering his mother's remarks
about manners.</p>
<p>"It's awful to watch them!" he would gurgle. "I don't see how they can
be so boorish." He thought there was no sadder sight than his six
brothers and sisters jostling one another over their food, while he
couldn't find a place to push in among them.</p>
<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />