“I do think you ought not to have taken them from the box. I am sure Paul will not like it when I tell him they are gone,” said Luretta.
Anna’s face grew grave. “Must you tell him?” she asked.
“Of course I must. He will bring home young leaves and roots for them to-night, and what will he say!” and Luretta’s voice sounded as if tears were very near.
While Luretta spoke Anna’s eyes had been fixed on a little clump of bushes on the other side of the trail. The bushes moved queerly. There was no wind, and Anna was sure that some little animal was hiding behind the shrubs. Greatly excited, Anna leaned forward, grasping Luretta’s arm.
“Look! those bushes!” she whispered.
At that moment a queer ball of dingy white appeared on the opposite side of the trail, and instantly Anna sprang toward it. Her hands grasped the torn and twisted piece of floating cloth, and closed upon the poor frightened little creature, one of the lost rabbits, nearly frightened to death by the strange garment that had prevented his escape.
If he could have spoken he would have begged for the freedom that his brother had achieved; but he could only tremble and shrink from the tender hands that held him so firmly.
In a moment Anna had unfastened the doll’s skirt, and Trit, or Trot, was once more clear of the detested garment.
“Oh, Danna! Do you suppose we can take it safely home?” exclaimed the delighted Luretta.
“Just see how frightened he is,” Anna responded. Somehow she no longer wished to take the little creature back and shut it up.