And they trotted round the kitchen holding their treasures high above their heads and screaming with delight.
Behind the elder-hedge they heard father’s voice humming:
When the sorrel shows,
‘Tis then the month of May, O!...
They ran to him, took the tools out of his hands and:
“Father, the rabbits! The rabbits now, father?”
“Will it be fine weather to-morrow?” asked Horieneke.
“For sure, child: just see how clear the sun is setting.”
He pointed to the west; and the boys stood on tip-toe to see the sinking, dull-glowing disk hang glittering in its gulf of orange cloud-reefs, pierced through and through with bright rays that melted away high in the pale blue and grey, while that disk hung there so calmly, as though frozen into the sky for ever.
Father had one or two things to do and then the boys might come along to the rabbits.
“The two white ones, eh, father?”