“And more than that—before he soused himself in that hogshead of hot water, Brother Lion used to strut around considerably. Being the king of all the animals, he felt very proud, and he used to go with his tail curled over his back. But since that time, he sneaks around as if he was afraid somebody would see him.
“There’s another thing. His hide hurt him so bad for a week that every time a fly lit on him he’d wiggle his tail. Some of the other animals, seeing him do this, thought it was a new fashion, and so they began to wiggle their tails. Watch your old house cat when you go home, and you will see her wiggle her tail forty times a day without any reason or provocation. Why? Simply because the other animals, when they saw Brother Lion wiggling his tail, thought it was the fashion; and so they all began it, and now it has become a habit with the most of them. It is curious how such things go.
“But the queerest thing of all,” continued Mr. Rabbit, leaning back in his chair, and looking at Mrs. Meadows and the children through half-closed eyes, “was this—that the only wool left on Brother Lion’s body, with the exception of his mane, was a little tuft right on the end of his tail.”
“How was that?” inquired Mrs. Meadows.
Mr. Rabbit laughed heartily, but made no reply.
“I don’t see anything to laugh at,” said Mrs. Meadows with some emphasis. “A civil question deserves a civil answer, I’ve always heard.”
“Well, you know what you said a while ago,” remarked Mr. Rabbit.
“I don’t know as I remember,” replied Mrs. Meadows.
“Why, you said pointedly that it was not necessary to tell everything in a story.” Mr. Rabbit made this remark with great dignity. “And I judged by the way you said it that it was bad taste to tell everything.”
“Oh, I remember now,” said Mrs. Meadows, laughing. “It was only one of my jokes.”