Grunty Pig's little eyes fell away from his mother's when she asked him what the bear looked like—the bear that had chased him.  
"Er—he was whitish, with brown spots, like Johnnie Green's dog," said Grunty; "and—er—he had a long tail like the old horse Ebenezer's; and he had six legs."
 
Mrs. Pig suddenly made a most sound. It couldn't be called a , nor a , nor a gurgle, nor a . It was a little like all four. And springing clumsily upon her son, Mrs. Pig upset him before he could her.
 
Grunty Pig began to whimper. "What have I done?" he .
 
"You've deceived me!" his mother cried. "You haven't seen a bear. You've never seen a bear in all your life."
 
"Ouch," Grunty howled, as his mother sent him once more. "I didn't mean any harm. I was only having fun with you."
 
"Well," said his mother. "Turn about is fair play. I'll have a little fun with you, now."
 
Mrs. Pig gave her wayward son such a punishing that he remembered it all the rest of that day. At least, he stayed at home. And Mrs. Pig dared hope that at last she had cured him of two bad habits—running away and telling fibs.
 
The next day, however, the fields called again to Grunty Pig. They called so plainly that he couldn't resist answering.
............