It was a long while since there had been such an excitement in the village.
Nor did the boys' interest in that rabbit die out; boys were always dropping in to see how she was getting on; and Mr. Blades, the butcher, who was a great fancier, offered Harry three-and-sixpence for her.
Very often Harry went to wheel Edgar Stopford's chair, when the two boys would have long talks about the rabbit; and Edgar's pale face would quite glow with pleasure as he listened to Harry's praises of the wonderful animal.
So things went on for some time until Edgar Stopford was taken away to the sea-side.
Harry missed him very much, but he still had his rabbit to amuse himself with; and so, although it was then the holidays, the days did not hang on his hands until very nearly the date of the re-opening of school.
One afternoon, however, the time did seem very long indeed. Most of the boys Harry liked had gone to a treat to which he had not been asked. He was cross and dull. He had spent the whole morning in cleaning out the rabbit-hutch; he wanted something else to do, when, happening to be loitering about in a meadow by the side of the Squire's house, he saw a squirrel in a tree.
In an instant Harry was cruelly stoning away as fast as he could pelt.
He had not done much stone-throwing since he had had the rabbit; now he forgot for the moment everything except the pleasure of aiming the stones.
Up went the stones one after another; a minute later, and—Crash! Crash! Smash went a lot of glass—then there was a yell of pain and rage—a side-door flying open—and Harry tearing, as if for his life, across the field, while after him rushed his own father and his father's master—the Squire!
They followed him—they drove him into a corner of the field; they secured him.