Page 23 - My FlipBook

For a long time he lay very still, watching the bracken, and hoping

that they would come back. But they never returned, and presently

the sun sank lower and the little white moths fluttered out, and

the Boy came and carried him home.

Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but

the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he

loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned

grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape,

and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy.

To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little

Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people,

because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are

Real shabbiness doesn't matter.

Anxious Times

And then, one day, the Boy was ill.

His face grew very flushed, and he talked in his sleep, and his little

body was so hot that it burned the Rabbit when he held him close.

Strange people came and went in the nursery, and a light burned

all night and through it all the little Velveteen Rabbit lay there,

hidden from sight under the bedclothes, and he never stirred, for

he was afraid that if they found him some one might take him

away, and he knew that the Boy needed him.
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