Then Virginia remembered that a ball of beautiful worsted had been missing from her mother's work-basket after it had been left on the porch. This explained it all. She was astonished, but the gray cat laughed out merrily:
"Yes, he stole it; but the dear bird thinks you left it there for him. If you look out of the attic window when we get home you can see his nest in the elm. It's mostly blue worsted."
"Why didn't you tell me before, if you knew it?" Virginia asked, really grieved at Tiger Kitty's lack of confidence.
"Why," repeated the cat, and then he only smiled very broadly, "because you were always deaf, my dear."
Presently, while they were walking down the corridor, the merriest music burst on Virginia's ear. In a room all to themselves, the rabbits were rehearsing for a minstrel show. They were dancing in the most giddy fashion, and she could not help laughing aloud as she watched them.
But as she laughed, something happened, and the cat, who had just opened his mouth to say something, closed it with a sudden look of disappointment.
"You see, she spilled the berries, and fell asleep while trying to pick them up."
It was a familiar voice. Virginia turned around. Her mother and big brother and little sister were kneeling beside her in the ferns. It was evening and she could hear the cows calling to be let through the farm gate.
"And I never said good-by to Mr. Red Fox!" she exclaimed. Then she rubbed her eyes and smiled, for they were all kissing her, and big brother was putting her on his shoulder.
Her strange experience she kept to herself for a long time. But she talked it all over with Tiger Kitty, and he seemed to understand it, every word. Most of all when she climbed the attic stairs and looked at the bird's nest, it was of blue worsted, as plain as plain could be.