So, in a little while, they came to the house which Eeyore had found, and for some minutes before they came to it, Piglet was nudging Pooh, and Pooh was nudging Piglet, and they were saying, “It is!” and “It can't be!” and “It is, really!” to each other.
And when they got there, it really was.
“There!” said Eeyore proudly, stopping them outside Piglet's house. “And the name on it, and everything!”
“Oh!” cried Christopher Robin, wondering whether to laugh or what.
“Just the house for Owl. Don't you think so, little Piglet?”
And then Piglet did a Noble Thing, and he did it in a sort of dream, while he was thinking of all the wonderful words Pooh had hummed about him.
“Yes, it's just the house for Owl,” he said grandly. “And I hope he'll be very happy in it.” And then he gulped twice, because he had been very happy in it himself.
“What do you think, Christopher Robin?” asked Eeyore a little anxiously, feeling that something wasn't quite right.
Christopher Robin had a question to ask first, and he was wondering how to ask it.
“Well,” he said at last, “it's a very nice house, and if your own house is blown down, you must go somewhere else, mustn't you Piglet? What would you do, if your house was blown down?”
Before Piglet could think, Pooh answered for him.
“He'd come and live with me,” said Pooh, “wouldn't you, Piglet?”
Piglet squeezed his paw.
“Thank you, Pooh,” he said, “I should love to.”
-A. A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner
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