The tears came a little faster.
"She says, though, one must ask awfully hard. Perhaps I don't ask hard enough. I'll ask again."
Beth folded her hands and closed her eyes.
"Dear God, I can't eat gruel any more. I'll die if I have to eat gruel, and I don't want to die. I want rabbit."
It would seem that the days of miracles had not passed; for even while she prayed, she felt two paws rest on her cot. She opened her eyes and there was Duke waiting impatiently for her to notice him. She could hardly believe her eyes, for in his mouth he held a little live rabbit as if for her to take it. To make sure she was not dreaming, she stretched forth her hand for the rabbit. Duke let her take it without offering the least resistance. In fact, he looked at her as much as to say:
"I heard them say that my little mistress wanted a rabbit. I was bound she should have a rabbit, and here it is."
Mrs. Davenport entered the room. "Here is your broth, dear."
"Take it away," cried Beth exultingly. "I'm going to have a rabbit. God sent Duke to bring me one. Wasn't he good not to eat it himself—he always used to eat them when he caught them, and God was so good to me, too."
The speech appeared a little ambiguous to Mrs. Davenport, but it was all very plain to the child.
Never did a stew seem more delicious to any one than did that rabbit stew to Beth. In fact, it proved a turning point with her, the fever subsiding thereafter very rapidly.