"Five miles off!" cried Polly, with wide eyes. "Is the park as big as that, Tom?"
He laughed. "That isn't much. But you'll see it all for yourself," he added. Then he rushed off into wondering how his dogs were. "And, oh, you'll ride with the hounds, Polly!"
Just then some rabbits scurried across the wood, followed by several more pattering and leaping through the grass.
"Oh, Tom, see those rabbits!" cried Polly, excitedly.
"Yes, the warrens are over yonder," said Tom, bobbing his head in the right direction.
"What?" asked Polly, in perplexity.
"Rabbit-warrens; oh, I forgot, you haven't lived in England. You seem so much like an English girl, though," said Tom, paying the highest compliment he knew of.
"Well, what are they?" asked Polly, quite overcome by the compliment coming from Tom.
"Oh, they are preserves, you know, where the rabbits live, and they are not allowed to be hunted here."
"Oh, do you ever hunt rabbits?" cried Polly, in horror, leaning out of her side of the big coach to see the scurrying little animals.