"You seem very fond of that tortoise-shell young one, Harry!" said Edgar presently with a smile.
"Ee—yes!" said Harry, his eyes brightening as he looked down tenderly at her.
"But how could you keep her?" asked Edgar.
"Oh, I'd keep her fast enough!" cried Harry, turning quite scarlet, while his heart gave half a dozen tremendous thumps. "I'd keep her! Why I'd make the neatest little hutch that ever was. And I'd give her the best of oats and pollard. Ah, as much as ever she'd eat!"
"Well, then, I shall give her to you," said Edgar. "I made up my mind when I was ill I'd give her to you, for I was sure you would take care of her. That's why I wouldn't let that other boy have her. He is rich, and can buy prize rabbits if he wants them. I'd rather give her to you."
Harry Pearson could not speak a word for a minute or two. He could only look down on the beautiful gift. To think that such a rabbit was his own was too much for him at first.
"Oh!" he gasped, presently. "Oh! Master Edgar. Oh! Thank you! Thank you!"
"Put her in that basket, and take her home," said Edgar.
Harry lost no time in obeying this delightful command. After which he wheeled Edgar, who was getting tired, back to the house, and then ran home with his rabbit, the proudest and happiest boy in Tolhurst.
All that evening there was an eager crowd of youngsters in front of the cottage where Harry lived.