“If they’re going to buy a rabbit, they oughtn’t to buy one here,” he thought, in an agony of anxiety. “There isn’t a rabbit here that I’d put in my house.”
“If that bird-store man does Mother on that rabbit, I’ll go down and settle him to-morrow,” he added to himself. And then he remembered, with shame, that he could never accept a rabbit from Eunice, after he had chased her cat.
He took a car home and looked eagerly on the front porch, half expecting that Weejums would be sitting there waiting for him with a forgiving smile. But she did not appear, and he went all around the alley again, calling her in beseeching tones. Suddenly, under the corner of a neighbor’s shed, he saw something white move, and went into the house to get a saucer of milk.
“I s’pose she’ll be afraid to come to me now,” he thought, and the thought hurt, for Franklin was not a cruel boy.
He set the milk down, very carefully, near the place where he had seen the white thing move, and presently it hopped out, with a great flop of the ears, and began to drink. But it was a white thing with black spots, and its name was Stamper.
Rabbits love milk as well as cats do, so it was easy for Franklin to grab the runaway by his long ears, and bear him off to his box, with a milky nose and an indignant heart. Then he rushed into the house to see if his mother and sister had come home. But they were not there, and Franklin feared that they might have gone to some strange and distant place in search of a rabbit. He was much relieved when a car stopped, and Mrs. Wood and Eunice got off; for they were not carrying anything but some bundles from the dry-goods store, and five cents’ worth of candy for Kenneth. There was no sign whatever of any rabbit being concealed about them.
“Stamper’s come home,” he said, almost before they reached the steps.
“I thought you told Eunice there was no chance of his ever coming back,” said Mrs. Wood, kissing Kenneth, who had run to meet them.
“Well, I didn’t think there was,” said Franklin, shamefacedly. “Eunice didn’t need to cry.”
He suspected that his mother had very little admiration for boys who made Eunice cry.