MR. RABBIT AND MRS. MEADOWS
“Le’ ’s go back,” whispered Drusilla. “Dat ar creetur bigger dan a hoss. Ef he git a glimp’ us we er gone—gone!”
Sweetest Susan shivered and looked at Buster John, and Buster John looked at Mr. Thimblefinger. But Mr. Thimblefinger ran forward, crying out:—
“Howdy, folks, howdy! I’ve brought some friends home to dinner.” He beckoned to the children. “Come on and see Mrs. Meadows and Mr. Rabbit.”
Mrs. Meadows immediately dropped her knitting in her lap, and threw her hands up to her head, as if to arrange her hair.
“Come in,” said Mr. Thimblefinger to the children.
“Yes, come on,” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit in a voice that sounded as if he had a bad cold.
“I’m in no fix to be seen,” said Mrs. Meadows, “but I’m glad to see you, anyhow. Come right in. Take off your things and make yourself at home. How did you get here? I reckon that little trick there has been telling tales out of school.” She pointed at Mr. Thimblefinger and laughed.
“He brought us,” said Sweetest Susan. “I’m sorry we came.”
“Now, don’t say that,” remarked Mrs. Meadows kindly. “What are you afraid of?”