They have also admirers of their intelligence, among whom I am proud to number myself, for why should carnivorous human beings be too hard on rats for killing birds? However, as a family, we decided that the rat episode had been so painful that we could no longer have them about the house. Workmen were called in, and concrete floors were laid in furnace-room, coal-cellars, and storeroom. The poor rats were determined not to be driven out, and if the workmen left the concrete while it was soft, they would dig their way up again. I was not willing to cover the earth in the aviary, and there was no danger of the rats getting in there, unless they tunneled from the other side of the house. This they would be quite capable of doing, if they thought they could get into the aviary in that way, and to this day I never see holes in the earth, or freshly scratched places, without anxiously examining them for traces of my dreaded gray enemies.
After making up my mind that rats were not suitable inhabitants of an aviary, I decided that the next animals to go would be the rabbits; but first, I was to have some further experiences with them. The little girls who had brought me the two white rabbits came to see me shortly after the expulsion of the rats, and with mournful faces informed me that they were about to leave Halifax with their parents.
“And we were going to give you our three dear rabbits,” they said earnestly, “but one died.”
I tried hard to look regretful for this untimely death, and one of the little girls went on to say, “We put this rabbit, Venus, in a basket to bring to you, then we saw the basket heave. We opened it, and there was Venus with froth on her mouth. Now what did she die of? Was it from poison? We had given her some red leaves from the woods, but the other rabbits ate them, and they did not die.”
“Perhaps her sister kicked her,” said the other little girl.
“Anyway, it was a great shock to me,” continued the first one disconsolately. “I howled from ten minutes past three till six—Venus would have had such a good time with you.”
“Well, she is safely over her troubles now,” I remarked, “and I am not particularly anxious to add to my stock of rabbits. I am becoming more interested in birds, and an old man came out the other day bringing me a half-sick rabbit.”
The children at once asked to see this rabbit, and named him Raggylug for me. Then they walked to and fro in the furnace-room, never keeping still a minute, stubbing their toes on the floor, or leaning against the stone wall to talk of an astonishing number of subjects connected with animals, among others, their hatred of vivisection, and their intense hope that there would be immortality for animals.
“There must be animals in heaven,” one of them said earnestly, “for are there not doves around the altar? and there must be cows and bees, if it is a land flowing with milk and honey.”
Then, with an abrupt change, one of them said to me, “You must feel as if you were in heaven, Miss Saunders, when you get into this basement with all your animals.”