“The little girl thanked the old man as politely as she knew how.
“‘Do you know why I have carried you to the Thunder’s house and to the Jumping-Off Place, and why I have given you a vial of this rare water?’ The little girl shook her head. ‘Well, one day, not long ago, you were sitting by the roadside with some of your companions. You were all eating cake. A beggar came along and asked for a piece. You alone gave him any, and you gave him all you had.’
“‘Were you the beggar?’ asked the little girl, smiling and blushing.
“‘That I leave you to guess,’ replied the old man. He kissed the little girl’s hand, and was soon hid from sight by a turn in the road.”
Mr. Thimblefinger stopped short here, and waited to see what the children would say. They had listened attentively, but they manifested no very great interest.
“I reckon they think there is more talk than tale in what you have told,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, leaning back in his chair. “That’s the way it appeared to me.”
“Well, I’ll not say that I have come to the end of my story,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, with some show of dignity, “but I have come to the part where we can rest awhile, so as to give Mr. Rabbit a chance to see if he can do any better. We’ll allow the little girl to grow some, just as she does in the story.”
IV.
THE BLUE HEN’S CHICKEN.
“I’m not much of a story-teller,” said Mr. Rabbit, “and I never set up for one, but I will say that I like the rough-and-tumble tales a great deal better than I do the kind where some great somebody is always coming in with conjurings and other carryings-on. It’s on account of my raising, I reckon.”