“Oh, it isn’t likely he’s there now,” said Franklin, taking Eunice’s hand; “and if he’s a friend of Weejums, he’ll turn up again, Sis, so don’t you worry. We’ll go home and put some stuff out in the back yard for him to eat.”
That evening, Mrs. Wood sat laying some lovely, sunshiny things away in a little box, and thinking of how like the face of a dandelion Ken’s dear head used to look.
“Mother’s lost her little baby!” she said to herself, as she slipped the last one from her finger, and kissed it softly before closing the box.
“Oh, stuff and nonsense!” said Grandmother, who was pretending to read the paper. “You’ve got something better.”
But Mrs. Wood knew that Grandmother had just such another box put away somewhere,—the box that held the curls of him who had been Kenneth’s father, and Grandmother’s little boy.
“I’m going to give Kenny my rabbits,” said Franklin, the next morning. “’Twas in the advertisement, and I promised.”
“Oh, but Kenny didn’t see the advertisement,” Mrs. Wood said; “and Weejums is going to buy him such a nice present this morning. I wouldn’t give away the rabbits, Franklin dear.”
“Well, but I promised, Mother.”
“Yes, but Kenny is such a little boy, he could never begin to take care of all Dulcie’s young families. Suppose that you give the new little bunnies to the children, if you want to give away something. I don’t believe Kenny himself would want you to part with the rabbits that you’ve had so long.”
“Well, I’ll think about it,” Franklin replied. And that afternoon it was announced that Eunice and Kenneth were to have a bunny apiece.