"I'm sure I don't," said Preston, as he hunted all over the stable for an old rabbit cage Crawford had brought there last year. "If we keep 'em together it's all the same."
The boys were well satisfied for awhile; but no more so than Flaxie. After saying her "big prayer," she added,—
"O God, we thank Thee specially for the wabbits; all but the cage; we had that before."
Her cold was well by this time; and she was allowed to stay in the yard as much as she chose, and watch the pretty pets. It was a funny sight to see them nibble the vegetables their little masters brought them; and Flaxie stood and threw kisses to make their dinner all the sweeter.
As the cage was Preston's, and kept in his mother's clothes-yard, it followed that Preston saw more of the rabbits, and had more care of them than Bert. But, alas, Flaxie had the care of them too! When Preston was gone to school, she hovered around them, saying to herself,—
"I mustn't lose these wabbits. It isn't my wabbits. If I should lose 'em, I should be 'spised; and, when I grow up a woman, then folks will look to me and say, 'Flaxie, where's those wabbits?'"
And, saying this, she let them out of the cage. A little while afterward, a cruel dog leaped over the fence, worried the poor timid things half to death, and, before Preston could get them back into the cage, had bitten off the beautiful white rabbit's white tail.
It was too much! Preston was very angry, not with Flaxie, but with the dog, and gave him a good beating; or it would have been a good beating if it had only hit the dog! But, after the first blow, the naughty beast ran around a corner; and that was the last seen of him, though it was not the last said or thought of him, you may be sure.
Both the boys were grieved at sight of their white rabbit without any tail, and Bert said,—