At Mrs. Rabbit’s House.
Arriving at the opposite bank, which she clambered up in no time, Mrs. Frog was feeling refreshed; she came to a road that fringed the lake, and, crossing this, she came to the briar patch. She went up and down the road, now entering one opening in the briar patch and then another, only to find that they were “blind” and that they led nowhere. One after another she entered these openings and had to come out again. She was about to give up the task and return home and she was soothing her disappointed feelings with the reflection that while she had not found Mrs. Rabbit and returned her call, she had enjoyed the outing immensely and had been benefited by the trip, when she saw a small opening nearly covered by hanging leaves. After some hesitation she entered this and found, to her great joy, that it was an arched pathway, well beaten by travel, which led to the home of Mrs. Rabbit. She followed this until she neared the house and saw Mrs. Rabbit standing in her front yard. Mrs. Frog saluted her cheerily but Mrs. Rabbit pretended that she was frightened and rushed in her house and hid in a heap in the darkest corner. Mrs. Frog followed her in, exclaiming: “La! Mrs. Rabbit, you need not hide. It is only Mrs. Frog that has come to see you and she is not going to hurt you.”
Mrs. Rabbit came out and said: “Why, Mrs. Frog, I am so glad to see you. I have been thinking of you and wondering if you never would come or if you had quite forgotten me. You are looking so well. I really believe, Mrs. Frog, that you are getting younger every day. I am sure you are getting better looking. How is Mr. Frog and the children—the dear things, how I would like to see them—how are they all?”
“The children,” replied Mrs. Frog, “are just as dear and sweet as they can live; and growing? You never saw the like! Why, they are perfect Jonah’s gourds, one would think, to see how they grow. And they are just as bad! Not mean, you know, but just mischievous and into everything. They run me wild, at times. But with all the trouble they give us, what would life be without them? Dear me! This would be a sad place without children. I needn’t ask how you are,” continued Mrs. Frog, “because your looks speak for themselves and tell the story of your good health and happiness. How are the dear children and Mr. Rabbit? I suppose he is like my old man, grumbledy and fussy, but just as good as he can be. I hope he will come in before I leave because I want to see him.”
There was an undertone of sadness in the forced mirth of Mrs. Rabbit’s voice as she replied: “The children are all well. Now and then one of them gets sick but it is only for a little while and it amounts to nothing. Mr. Rabbit has gone to mill with a turn of corn so that I may have flour to make bread for Sunday dinner. We usually have a good deal of company on Sunday.”
Mrs. Rabbit said this with the faintest suggestion of vanity, and then continued: “I am sure you must be famished after your long trip across the lake. Dear me, how I wish I could swim.” (Mrs. Rabbit was only too sincere in this.)
“Spread this mullein leaf over your dress to protect it. What a pretty dress you have and it is so becoming to you. I always did like green. Your appetite must provide the relish for what I have to set before you, as I have only scraps to offer and it would keep you too long waiting to cook something fresh. Somebody once said something in praise of a dinner of herbs; but for my part, I would prefer something else.”
Mrs. Frog spread the mullein leaf over her lap and fell to with much energy, but her thoughts were on her dress, of which she was very proud. “I am glad you like my dress,” she said. “I like it very much. I got it at a bargain, too, because I bought the goods by the quantity and made dresses of the same material for all children and had quite a lot left for mending. Children are so hard on clothes. This dress like all the rest does not fit me. I suppose I must have an awful figure”—Mrs. Frog said this, but did not mean a word of it; she was really proud of her fine figure—“and the dressmakers never fit me. It is all right around the neck but, you see, it is much too tight and binding across the bust and it is not full enough about the hips; while the waist is baggy—it is so loose, and,—dear me! if I wore corsets it would look like a meal sack on a hoe handle, on me.”
Mrs. Frog asked: “What is the news over this way?”
Mrs. Rabbit could not see the defects mentioned and concluded they were imaginary. People frequently differ in opinion.
The conversation turned to general topics and Mrs. Frog asked: “What is the news over this way?”
Said Mrs. Rabbit: “We never hear anything in this out-of-the-way place. It is so quiet. The overflow has caused some suffering and one of Mr. Fox’s sons, who had been stealing a farmer’s chickens in the clearing, was killed the other night and his skin is going to be worn by the farmer’s daughter next winter to keep her neck and shoulders warm. Mr. Bear’s brother, who had been killing and eating the farmer’s calves in the canebrake, was caught in a trap and shot dead. His skin is stretched on the door of the farmer’s barn and his body is hung up in the smokehouse near by. Mr. Woodpecker brought this news to us and warned us to be on our guard because there are so many hungry animals abroad. I am afraid to let the children out of my sight.”
“Well, well!” exclaimed Mrs. Frog. “That is too bad! But you know,” continued Mrs. Frog, glancing furtively at her reflection in the mirror and comparing her appearance with the appearance of Mrs. Rabbit, the result of which seemed to please her, “you know the way of the transgressor is hard. But really I must go as it is getting late.”
Mrs. Frog jumped up and made ready to take her departure, taking at the same time a mental inventory of everything in the house.
Mrs. Rabbit begged her to stay longer, assured her it was quite early and that she had plenty of time to reach home, and reproached her for hurrying off. Mrs. Rabbit accompanied Mrs. Frog to the end of the path through the briar patch and out into the opening on the bank of the lake.
“You must come and see me again, soon,” said Mrs. Rabbit. “Come early and spend the day and bring the children and I will keep mine home from school and we will have a nice time.”
“I am coming right soon. You cannot keep me away because I enjoy these visits hugely. I am sorry I did not see Mr. Rabbit and the dear children. Now, I will not take no. You must come to see me soon; you must.” Mrs. Frog was very emphatic.
“I’m coming before long,” said Mrs. Rabbit. “I’m coming, sure. I would have been over before this but I cannot take a short cut across the lake, like you, but must go around. And, since his son was killed, Mr. Fox lives up at this end of the lake, which makes me go the long way, around the lower end. And getting through the switch-cane is a job, I tell you. When I brought home the coffee I borrowed from you it took me until evening to make the trip. Mr. Bear has plenty of paths through the switch-cane, but they run all which ways and you are coming home half the time when you think you are going; but there is no way out of it unless you could fly over it as Mr. Jaybird does when he goes over to the deadening to tote down fire-wood for the devil on Friday mornings, and the Cotton-tail family cannot fly nor even jump like the Jackrabbit family. But I’ll manage to get there soon.”
They shook hands and kissed and Mrs. Frog plunged into the lake with a ker-plunk and swimming gaily out a distance turned around and said:
“You must come soon.”
“I will, and you must come soon.”
Mrs. Rabbit watched her guest depart and when out of hearing almost hissed: “Horrid thing! I don’t see what brings her here. I wish Mr. Moccasin-snake or Mr. Hawk would come along and catch her. She just came here to show that green dress because she knew neither myself nor my children have a stitch to wear but these old grey gowns trimmed with fur, and here it is the middle of summer.”
Mrs. Rabbit returned home just as Mr. Rabbit, who had been to mill with a turn of corn to have ground into flour to make bread for Sunday dinner, turned the corner.