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 the corner of the barn. "I thought you said Winkie Baby was here," called Mrs. Cann.

"He is," said her husband, coming nearer.

"I can't see him," said Mrs. Cann, looking again.

"And I can't," at Cheery.

"An' I can't," echoed The Chum.

Mr. Cann laughed, and pointed to a dreadful, black mud-puddle, right in the middle of the pen.

Mrs. Cann shrank back. "That—that isn't Winkie Baby!" she cried, pointing to a small pig, wallowing and rooting in the very deepest of the mud.

"That's just who it is," said Mr. Cann, laughing again.

Mrs. Cann gasped. "That—that—my pretty, clean, pink and white Winkie Baby? Well you just please climb right in there and bring him out. I won't have him look like that!"

Mr. Cann protested, and the children