," continued Mr. Guffins, "and Henry--or
the pig, for it _couldn't_ have been Henry--followed her. And what do
you think it did?"

"What?" asked Mr. Gubb.

"It went right to the dining-room table and climbed into a chair. Pigs
don't do that, do they? But you don't believe it could have been
Henry, do you? It got up in the chair and _sat_ in it, and put its
front feet on the table and grunted. And Mrs. Lippett hurried about
saying, 'Oh, Henry! Oh, poor, dear Henry!' and brought a plate of
fried hominy and sliced apple and set it before him. And he wouldn't
touch it! He wouldn't eat. So Mrs. Lippett wept harder and got a
napkin and tied it around the pig's neck. Then the pig ate. He almost
climbed into the plate, and gobbled the food down. And then he grunted
for more. And Mrs. Lippett wept and said: 'It's Henry! He always did
tie a napkin around his neck--he spilled his soup so. It's Henry! It
acts just like Henry. He never did anything at the table but eat and
grunt.' And so," said Mr. Guffins sadly, "she thinks it's Henry. She's
fixed up the guest bedroom for him."

"The idea of such a notion!" said Mr. Gubb.

[Illustration: "SHE THINKS IT'S HENRY. SHE'S FIXED UP THE GUEST
BEDROOM FOR HIM"]

"Well, that's it," said Mr. Guffins sadly. "I ain't sure but it _is_
Henry. Do you know, that pig walks on its hind feet like a man? She
says it walks like Henry.... Oh!"

"What is it?" asked Mr. Gubb.

"I told you Henry--"

"Yes?"

"I told you Henry broke his neck. He fell down and broke his neck, in
his store. He was coming down the back stairs in the dark, and his
foot caught in a piece of rope and he fell. And--this pig came into
the parlor with a piece of string on its leg! Here's the string."

Mr. Gubb took it. From his desk he took the string Mr. Greasy Gus had
left. The two ends joined perfectly.

"I'll get you out of this fix, and fix it so Mrs. Lippett won't have
that pig onto her hands," he said. "I'll go tell her what a fraud of a
faker you are, and it won't cost you but twenty-five dollars."

"Willingly paid," said Mr. Guffins, reaching into his pocket.

"And don't you worry about that pig being Henry K. Lippett," said Mr.
Gubb. "That pig was a stranger into Riverbank. And," he went on, as if
reading the words from the end of the whipcord, "it was tied to the
alley fence. Tied to an iron staple," he said, "by a short, stoutish
man with a ruddish face." He took up the other piece of cord and
looked at