"Slept well, Bunny?" said the Man; "it's more than I have. I've made my mind up, Bunny. I'm going. I can't bear the house. I can't bear the rooms. They're empty, empty, empty."
The Man stepped slowly down the stairs and Bunny Rabbit stumbled after him. He reached the hall and paused, then caught up Bunny Rabbit, and once more ascended. He entered every upstairs room and gazed as though to clinch them on his memory. He entered every downstairs room, and in one room, the loneliest of all, he sat and cried his heart out.
*****
"We're homeless, Bunny Rabbit," said the Man. "But you're the better off, for your home's somewhere here."
They had got half-way up the slope. The Man stood tall among the ragwort, and Bunny Rabbit, with wide, frightened eyes, clung to his shoulder.
The Man stooped down, and Bunny Rabbit slid to earth.
"Now you must find your home or make one," said the Man, and Bunny Rabbit straightway tried to make one. He plunged his forepaws in the ground and scratched. The dust flew out behind and, in the midst, shot something hard and glittering.
It was a small gold locket.
The Man bent down and picked it up. He opened it and with dimmed eyes he kissed it.
"You've done me a good turn," he said—"of course it's pure coincidence," and Bunny Rabbit watched him out of sight.