Well, Peterkin let them have the pennies, and they let the hare go, and glad enough it was to get away, I can tell you.
“See, Peterkin,” it said, speaking as plainly as a Christian, “you shall lose nothing by this. When you are in a tight place, whistle on your fingers—thus—and perhaps help will come to you.”
Then it thumped its feet on the ground and away it scampered.
As for Peter’s brothers, they laughed and laughed. A fool and his money were soon parted, said they. How could a little grey hare help him, they should like to know?
After a while they came to the town, where Peterkin’s brothers took up their lodgings at a good inn. As for Peterkin, he had to go and sleep in the straw, for one cannot spend money and have it both. So while the brothers were eating broth with meat in it, Peterkin went with nothing.
“I wonder,” said he, “if the Little Grey Hare can help me now.” So he whistled on his fingers, just as it had told him.
Then who should come hopping and skipping along but the Little Grey Hare itself. “What do you want, Peterkin?” it said.
“I should like,” said Peterkin, “to have something to eat.”
“Nothing easier than that,” said the Little Grey Hare; and before one could wink twice a fine feast, fit for a king, was spread out before him, and he fell to as though he had not eaten a bite for seven years.
After that he slept like a flat stone, for one can sleep well even in the straw, if one only has a good supper within one.