“‘Don’t mind him, ladies. He knows just as well as I do that he has a fiddle-string in his neck. I can take my pocket-knife and get it out in half a minute,’ says I.
“This made Brother Terrapin roll his eyes.
“‘Be ashamed of yourself, Brother Terrapin,’ says the girls. ‘And we were having so much fun, too.’
“‘If my neck was as long and as tough as Brother Terrapin’s, I’d take one of the leaders out and make a fiddle-string of it, just to oblige the ladies,’ says I.
“The girls turned up their noses and tossed their heads. ‘Don’t pester Brother Terrapin,’ says they. ‘We’ll not ask him any more.’
“‘Ladies,’ says I, ‘there is a way to get the fiddle-string without asking for it. Will you please hand me a case-knife out of the cupboard there?’
“I rose from my chair with a sort of a frown,” continued Mr. Rabbit, laughing heartily, “but before I could lift my hand Brother Terrapin rolled from the shelf and went tumbling down the slope to the creek, heels over head.”
“Did it hurt him much?” asked Sweetest Susan, with a touch of sympathy.
“It didn’t stop his tongue,” replied Mr. Rabbit. “He crawled out on the other side of the creek and said very bad words. He even went so far as to call me out of my name. But it is all over with now,” said Mr. Rabbit, with a sigh. “I bear no grudges. Let bygones be bygones.”
“I never heard before that Brother Terrapin had a fiddle-string in his neck,” said Buster John, after he had thought the matter over a little.