"Wild rabbits are no good in hutches," said Kink.
Jack was very sullen. "It's awful rot," he said. "You all ought to be vegetarians if you talk like that. But we'll let him go," and he loosened the wire and the rabbit dashed away.
"A nice return to the gipsy for his kindness," Jack muttered.
Kink watched the rabbit till it was out of sight. "Whose rabbit do you suppose that was?" he asked.
"Mine," said Jack.
"What about the farmer?" said Kink.
"A nice return for a night's lodging—poaching his rabbits."
"Poaching!" cried Horace. "Is that poaching? Is Jack a poacher? Oh, how splendid! Jack's a poacher! Jack's a poacher! I wish I was."
"I'd never thought of it as poaching," said Jack, who was not a little proud of his new character.
"When did you set the wire?" Horace asked him.