While the mother sat silent her sons were talking together in low tones. Andy and Jim told of the rabbits they had trapped in the hazel brush, and how they had eaten some and some they had sold in the stores. And Mike, in his turn, told them how many rabbits there were in the Brady neighborhood, and how nobody seemed to wish to have them disturbed.
"What are they good for, if you can't catch 'em?" asked Jim, who could never catch enough.
"Good to look pretty hopping about, I guess," responded Mike.
"Huh!" exclaimed Jim, who, like many a one older than he, had small respect for opinions that clashed with his own.
"He'll be turnin' to be an agitator sure, only maybe I can head him off," thought the mother, who had been idly listening.
"Jim," she said, "'twas your father as was iver for hearin' both sides of iverything. If there's them that thinks rabbits looks pretty jumpin' around, why, no doubt they do. 'Tisn't iverybody that's trappin', you'll moind. If you was a horse now, you'd be called strong in the mouth, and you'd need a firm hand on the lines. And if you'd been brung up among horses, as your father was, you'd know as them obstinate wans as wants the bits in their teeth are the wans as gets the beatin's. You're no horse, but things will go crossways to you all your loife if you don't do different. When there's nayther roight nor wrong in the matter let iverybody have their own way."
And then little Jim became downright sulky.
"Rabbits is for trappin'," he said stubbornly.
"Well, well," thought the widow, "I'll have to be waitin' a bit. But I'll be makin' something out of Jim yet."