“Here’s Prig, and Blackhawk’s out.”
All three started, calling Prig, and running after her and Blackhawk in wild confusion. Prig misunderstood their anxiety, and supposing they were setting her on the rabbit, joined in the hunt. Poor Blackhawk tried to escape, but Prig caught him, gave one shake, and the pretty rabbit lay dead.
“O, you wicked dog!” cried Ada, while Willie and Dolly stood quite overcome by the misfortune.
Prig saw in a moment she had made a mistake, and when Willie rushed at her with uplifted hammer, hid behind the summer-house. With loud grief and many tears, the children raised their dead pet, and laid it on a bench in the out-house. Its blue eyes were half open, its soft black-and-white fur wet and rumpled, and they cried and blamed Prig as they tenderly arranged it on the bench. Ada fairly howled, and Bridget and Mary ran out to see what was the matter.
“Ay,” said Bridget, “and it was Dolly herself left the door open, though I told her to shut it.”
“I didn’t know Prig was there,” sobbed Dolly.
“It’s all Prig’s fault,” said Willie, “and I’ll kill her.”
“No, no,” pleaded Dolly, with whom Prig was an especial favorite.
A consultation was held over the bench, and it was finally decided that the case should be referred to Mrs. Constant on her return, though Willie still vowed vengeance. Prig had crept back, and crouched in the doorway; but when the children saw her, they drove her away, throwing stones and calling her the worst names they could invent. She skulked outside very unhappy, until Willie shut her up in the summer-house, while the children spent the rest of the long afternoon over their dead rabbit. Dolly tied the Princess Widdlesbee’s best blue sash about his neck, Willie emptied his toolbox to lay him in, and Ada spread her best doll’s bed-quilt over him. Then they sat and cried together until Dolly started up, and said,—
“There’s mother.”