Out of the house
Came the farmer’s cat.
“Oh, dear me!” thought the little rabbit, backing away toward the old apple tree, “Black Cat will surely scratch all the little buttons off my fur overcoat.”
“Meow! Meow!” cried Black Cat, creeping forward, his wicked green eyes blazing like balls of fire and his sharp claws sticking out of his fur-mittens.
And the poor little rabbit, his back against the old apple tree, stood all a-tremble, not knowing what to do.
“Go way, go way!” he cried. But closer and closer crept the wicked cat in his long black coat.
All of a sudden a little voice from a treetop whispered:
“Don’t you remember how your mother taught you to defend yourself?”
Then, of course, the little rabbit boy remembered the only way a bunny can protect himself. Turning around as quick as a flash, he struck out with his two strong hind legs, hitting Black Cat such a welt in the belt that all the breath was knocked out of him. It took the old cat five minutes to find it. And while he hunted here and there, under a stone and behind a bush, away hopped the little rabbit, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, down the road to Rabbitville.
“Don’t forget next time to remember what mother tells you,” called little Bobbie Redvest from the apple tree.