“How do you know he wasn’t? Perhaps he was doing something hateful to some other animal. Animals do that, you know; they’re such beasts.”
“Well, anyway, you couldn’t have shot it; squirrels run so fast,” replied Jane with satisfaction.
“I could have if I’d had any practice. When I get my gun I shall practice on the rabbits. They’re no good, anyhow.”
“They are some good. They’re sweet, dear, gentle things and you just shan’t hurt them.”
“They haven’t got as much sense as squirrels and they’re lots greedier.”
Then followed a discussion between the children concerning the habits of squirrels, rabbits and other creatures of the forest, in which each displayed a goodly stock of knowledge of natural history. Grandfather chuckled proudly as he listened, but made no comment.
“Well, well, well,” he remarked, when the subject of red squirrels had been exhausted and he thought he saw another “why” trembling on the tip of Christopher’s tongue, “here we are, half-way to town and nobody has yet offered to relieve me of the hard task of driving.”
There was instant strife for possession of the reins.
“Tut, tut, play fair. Kit, my boy, remember your manners. Ladies first.” And grandfather handed the reins to triumphant Jane.
“Aw, she’s not a lady, she’s only a girl,” growled Christopher in chagrin. “Anyhow, it’s my turn to sit on the outside. I’m sure it is, and I’m going to have my turn. Move over, Jane, you needn’t think you can have everything. She needn’t be a pig, just because she’s a lady,” he added to his grandfather, who had laid a restraining hand upon his sleeve. “Move over, you!”