"I am the saving grace, the chief beauty of this establishment," the Lady Trumpet would say. "And I know it."
"Of course you are," Mrs. Yellowhammer would reply. "And it was a great mistake that you were ever planted here. A lady of your elegance, among such weeds and common things, and at the very edge of nowhere!"
"Oh, I don't mind it much, although we have little company now. But who's this coming this very minute?"
Sure enough, a man was passing. And he came through the old door-yard straight up to the cabin steps and stood there a minute, and then was gone. But not before he had thrown something over his shoulder which lighted with a dry rattle, like that of corn, in at the base of the old chimney.
"What a queer thing to do!" thought Lady Trumpet-Vine, thereby speaking her own mind and that of the cabin as well.
"Not at all," suddenly spoke up Mr. Rabbit. "That man is throwing seed over his left shoulder for his luck. I've seen it done before. And I'm glad he doesn't want my left hind foot, or whatever it is that such people like to carry in their pockets for good luck."
Immediately Mrs. Yellowhammer, who had been screaming to her friend, Red-necked Woodpecker, to come and enjoy this mystery, flew down to inspect the seeds which lay on the soil at the foot of the chimney. And Mr. Rabbit scampered to get to the spot also.
They looked long and hard at the little brown things; then Mr. Rabbit tried biting one of them.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "Bitter as poison!"
"I never taste things I am in doubt about," Mrs. Yellowhammer declared; "but I'm not a seed-eater anyway. What does Mr. Bob-White think they are?"