“It was a capital thing, as you may suppose, for keeping the children quiet as well as happy in the nursery, at the top of the London house, in one particular corner of which the basket of Tods was kept. But when grandmamma’s bell rang, which it did day by day as a summons, after the parlour breakfast was over, the Tods were put away; and it was dolls, or reasonable toys of some description, which the motherless little girls took down with them to the drawing-room; and I doubt whether either grandmamma or aunt knew of the Tod family in the basket up-stairs.
“After the affair had gone on for a little time, the children were accidentally in the kitchen when the rabbit-skin dealer called, and the cook begged him to give them a tail or two; and thenceforth, of course, they looked upon him as one of their greatest friends; and if they wanted fresh Tods, they would lie in wait for him in the archway entrance, for fear he should go by without coming in to call at their grandmamma’s house. And on the day I have described, two new brothers, ‘Furry’ and ‘Buffy,’ were introduced to the Tod establishment, and the talking and delight that ensued, lasted for the whole afternoon.
“Nobody knew, I believe; but certainly if anybody had known how the hearts of those children were getting involved over the dead rabbits’ tails, it would have been only right to have tried to lead their affection into some better direction. What a waste of good emotions it was, when they cuddled up their Tods in an evening; invented histories of what they had said and done during the day, and put them by at last with caresses something very nearly akin to human love!”
“Oh, dear Aunt Judy,” exclaimed No. 6, “if their poor mamma had but been there!”
“All would have been right then, would it not, No. 6?”
No. 6 said “Yes” from the very depths of her heart.
“As it seems to us, you should say,” continued Aunt Judy; “but that is all. It could not have seemed so to the God who took their mother away.”
“Aunt Judy—”
“No. 6, I am telling you a very serious truth. Had it indeed been right for the children that their mother should have lived, she would not have been taken away. For some reason or other it was necessary that they should be without the comfort, and help, and protection, of her presence in this world. We cannot understand it, but a time may come when we may see it all as clearly as we now see the folly of those children who so doted upon senseless rabbits’ tails.”
“Oh, Aunt Judy, but it was still very, very sad.”