'Ferrets,' said Rosamond innocently, 'what are they? I never heard of them. Are they nice and tame and pretty?'
'Oh lovely,' said Justin, beginning to laugh. 'They're the hideousest things there are. And if you get one up your sleeve—ugh—it does feel horrid. All the same they're splendid chaps for rats. I'd give anything to have a pair of my own, I can tell you.'
'I don't want to see them, thank you,' said the little girl. 'Do they eat rats? I don't like pets that eat each other.'
Justin laughed more loudly.
'Eat each other,' he repeated. 'Rats and ferrets don't eat each other. Besides, ferrets aren't like foxes—they're not fierce; they're jolly little beggars. I only wish I had a couple.'
'Oh, I say, Justin,' exclaimed Archie, 'I wouldn't call them not fierce. Why does Bob Crag muzzle his when he's going to catch rabbits with them?'
'Because they would eat rabbits if they were hungry. Rabbits would be nicer to eat than rats, I should think, though I daresay they'd eat rats too if they were ravenous—and they have to be ravenous when they're used for ratting, to make them eager, for when they've had lots to eat they are sad lazy little beggars.'
'That's like snakes,' said Rosamond, with a small shudder. 'I'm sure I shouldn't like ferrets, Justin. Don't let's talk about them any more. Who is Bob Crag?'
'Oh, he's a boy,' said Justin, with some slight hesitation. 'He lives out on the moor with his grandmother.'
'You can see their cottage,' said Archie, 'from the top of the mound behind the paddock, such a queer, wild sort of place; we pass it on our way to the vicarage, when it's a fine day.'