“For twenty-four hours I lay senseless; and when I came to—alas! what was there to come to?—I was alone in the world! All, all were gone, the old familiar faces; and the doctor was looking into my cage and saying: ‘Well, well! You’re a tough little Guinea-Pig, and no mistake.’”
A fresh flood of tears delayed the recital, and the Rabbit, who was anxious to be off, looked his impatience. With an effort the Guinea-Pig continued:
“I had tuberculosis in March, diphtheria in April, tetanus in May, and anthrax in June; but—but I recovered—”
“Of course you did,” said the Rabbit, cheerily; “otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Well, I’ve got to be moving along, as I have several important matters to attend to.”
“There! Don’t cry any more, Brown Eyes,” said Buddie, wiping the Guinea-Pig’s eyes with a corner of her dress.
“By the way,” said the Rabbit, “how would you like to look in on the Greenwood Club this afternoon? You can come as my guest, you know.”
“Ever so much!” replied Buddie, happily.
“Doctor Goose is to read a paper; and there will be games and singing and the usual good time. We get together once a week, and even the Guinea-Pig forgets his troubles. Don’t you, old fellow?”
But Brown Eyes only snuffled.
“If you will meet me at the Corner at two o’clock,” said the Rabbit to Buddie, “I shall be happy to escort you to the Club. Good morning!” He bowed and hurried away.