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HERE was once a man and his wife who had three sons. The two oldest were tall, strong boys, who helped their father every day in his work, but the youngest was small and sickly, and as he stayed at home most of the time, hanging about his mother, they called him "Mother's Pet." At last the father died, and not long after the mother was taken sick. When she felt that death was near she called her youngest boy to her bedside, and said, sadly: "What will become of you, Mother's Pet, when I am gone? Your brothers are big enough to help themselves, but you are so small and weak!"

"I shall have no trouble," answered the lad. "You need not be worried about that."

So the mother died and was buried. Now the oldest son took possession of the house, and the second oldest took everything that remained.

"What, shall I have?" asked Mother's Pet.

"Well, well," said the eldest. "We forgot you Let us see—yes, you may have the kneading-trough, though. If you can obtain flour and yeast, you may