Toto, mindful of his promise, showed great self-denial with regard to the raw vegetables, and even remained firm against the attractions of the cabbage-soup.
The white rabbit was quite melancholy over his guest’s persistent refusal to eat of his good cheer. “But perhaps,” he said, “creatures of your race never eat. I see that your nose does not wiggle when you speak, so perhaps you cannot eat, eh?”
“Oh, yes,” said Toto in an off-hand way. “Yes, we can; and sometimes we do. I have eaten in the course of my life, and I may do it again, but not to-night.”
At this moment the guests all came pouring into the supper-room; and Toto began to think that it would be wise for him to slip away quietly, as it must be near his own supper-time, and his grandmother would be wondering where he was. So he took a friendly leave of the master of ceremonies, and nodding to the woodchuck, he left the supper-room, made his way through the ball-room, and dropping once more on his hands and knees, proceeded to wriggle his way as best he might through the underground passage.
A very grimy and dusty boy he was when he came out again from behind the juniper-bush. He shook himself as well as he could, laughed a little over the recollection of the unsuccessful rabbit suitor kicking his heels in the air to express his devotion, and started on his way home.
He had spent a much longer time than he had meant to at the rinktum, and it was growing quite dark. He hurried along, for his way lay through a part of the wood where he did not like to go after dark. The owls lived there, and Toto did not like the owls, because none of his friends liked them. They were surly, growly, ill-tempered birds, and were apt to make themselves very disagreeable if one met them after dark. Indeed, it was said that Mrs. Growler, the old grandmother owl of the family, had once eaten several of Cracker’s brothers and sisters. The squirrel did not like to talk about it, but Toto knew that he hated the owls bitterly.
“I hope I shall not meet any of them,” said the boy to himself as he entered the wood. “I am not afraid of them, of course,—it would be absurd for a boy to be afraid of an owl,—but I don’t like them.”
The thought had scarcely crossed his mind, when he heard a sound of flapping wings; and a moment after a huge white owl flew down directly in front of him, and spreading its broad pinions, completely barred his passage.
“Who?” said the owl.