By-and-by a large Tommy Cat came along.

“Are you my brother?” asked the child.

“Go and look at yourself in the glass,” said the Tommy Cat haughtily, “and you will have your answer.  I have been washing myself in the sun all the morning, while it is clear that no water has come near you for a long time.  There are no such creatures as you in my family, I am humbly thankful to say.”

He walked on, waving his tail, and the child waited.

Presently a pig came trotting along.

The child did not wish to ask the pig if he were his brother, but the pig did not wait to be asked.

“Hallo, brother!” he grunted.

“I am not your brother!” said the child.

“Oh yes, you are!” said the pig.  “I confess I am not proud of you, but there is no mistaking the members of our family.  Come along, and have a good roll in the barnyard!  There is some lovely black mud there.”

“I don’t like to roll in mud!” said the child.

“Tell that to the hens!” said the Pig Brother.  “Look at your hands and your shoes, and your pinafore!  Come along, I say!  You may have some of the pig-wash for supper, if there is more than I want.”

“I don’t want pig-wash!” said the child; and he began to cry.

Just then the Tidy Angel came out.

“I have set everything to rights,” she said, “and so it must stay.  Now, will you go with the Pig Brother, or will you come back with me, and be a tidy child?”

“With you, with you!” cried the child; and he clung to the Angel’s dress.

The Pig Brother grunted.

“Small loss!” he said.  “There will be all the more wash for me!” And he trotted off.

THE CAKE[1]

[Footnote 1:  From The Golden Windows, by Laura E. Richards. (H.R.  Allenson Ltd. 2s. 6d. net.)]

A child quarrelled with his brother one day about a cake.

“It is my cake!” said the child.

“No, it is mine!” said his brother.

“You shall not have it!” said the child.  “Give it to me this minute!” And he fell upon his brother and beat him.

Just then came by an Angel who knew the child.

“Who is this that you are beating?” asked the Angel.

“It is my brother,” said the child.

“No, but truly,” said the Angel, “who is it?”

“It is my brother, I tell you!” said the child.

“Oh no,” said the Angel, “that cannot be; and it seems a pity for you to tell an untruth, because that makes spots on your soul.  If it were your brother, you would not beat him.”

“But he has my cake!” said the child.

“Oh,” said the Angel, “now I see my mistake.  You mean that the cake is your brother; and that seems a pity, too, for it does not look like a very good cake,—­and, besides, it is all crumbled to pieces.”

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN TOWN[1]