Page 27 - My FlipBook

That night the Boy slept in a different bedroom, and he had a new

bunny to sleep with him. It was a splendid bunny, all white plush

with real glass eyes, but the Boy was too excited to care very much

about it. For to-morrow he was going to the seaside, and that in

itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing

else.

And while the Boy was asleep, dreaming of the seaside, the little

Rabbit lay among the old picture-books in the corner behind the

fowl-house, and he felt very lonely. The sack had been left untied,

and so by wriggling a bit he was able to get his head through the

opening and look out. He was shivering a little, for he had always

been used to sleeping in a proper bed, and by this time his coat

had worn so thin and threadbare from hugging that it was no

longer any protection to him. Near by he could see the thicket of

raspberry canes, growing tall and close like a tropical jungle, in

whose shadow he had played with the Boy on bygone mornings.

He thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden–how happy

they were–and a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see

them all pass before him, each more beautiful than the other, the

fairy huts in the flower-bed, the quiet evenings in the wood when

he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws; the

wonderful day when he first knew that he was Real.

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