In some embarrassment I replied that I did not consider the basement of my father’s house an ideal place. Some day I hoped to have a better home for my birds.
However, I never said very much; for when those children talked, I always wanted to listen. Among all the animal-lovers that I have ever known, I never met with two more exquisitely thoughtful and sympathetic souls than these.
At that time they were absolutely torn with anxiety as to the fate of their two surviving rabbits, which I at last promised to take. They said, “We know they will be safe with you, Miss Saunders. But suppose anything should happen to you.”
I told them over and over again, that if I were prematurely cut off, or had to part from my pets, measures would be taken to provide their rabbits with the best of homes.
One thing they strictly impressed upon me. They did not approve of cremation, and if their rabbits were to die, they must be buried in the ground.
“Our rabbits are so supernatural,” one of them remarked.
To allay their intense anxiety, I promised everything they wished, and later on they brought the rabbits to me, both decorated with blue ribbon, and told me the larger one was Trixy Minerva, and the smaller one Candytuft Mercury. They said that Trixy was a saint, and was aunt to Candytuft, who was a sinner. Then they cut locks of hair from their pets’ heads, took a painful farewell of them, and went away.
In some perplexity I surveyed my rabbit family after they left me. The gentle Raggylug was loping around the aviary. As Trixy bore a good character, I decided to put her in with him. Spotty and Rab would kill Candytuft Mercury if I turned him loose in the furnace-room, so I shut him and his blue ribbon up in a barrel, till I could think his case over.
The next morning I found that Trixy had bitten Raggylug’s ear, and the patient little fellow sat with a guineapig friend kindly licking the sore place for him. I hope it was sympathy, but I really believe that even model guineapigs may occasionally like the taste of blood.
I left Raggylug in the aviary for a further trial, and he soon learned that he must not gallop round at Trixy’s heels. She did not like it.