James squealed and reached out to stroke them with his good hand. “Oh,” he said. “Aren’t they cute? Where did Dr. Cordes get them?”
“From one of his patients,” Jane said, “a lady out in the country who raises them.”
“They’re Flemish Giants,” said Bill impressively. “They grow to be as big as a dog. I saw some once at the State Fair. They’re the biggest rabbits in the whole world.”
Janie looked at the little mites on the bed. “They’ll have to eat a lot of carrots and clover before they get that big,” she said. “What shall we call them?”
They thought and thought. “Let’s call them Tar Baby and Snow White,” said Jane.
“Those are sissy names,” said Bill. “Let’s call them King and Queen.”
James cocked his head to one side and studied them as if to draw inspiration from the way they wiggled their ears. “Queen is all right for the white one,” he said, “but the little black fellow doesn’t look like a king to me. He looks scared stiff.”
And, somehow, in spite of all the efforts to give him a high sounding name, he remained Blackie to the end of his days.
Jane felt ambitious. “Come on Bill,” she said. “Let’s build a hutch for them in back of the garage.”
“Oh, no,” said James. “They’re so little and lonesome. Let’s keep them here in the cottage. They’re just babies yet.”