Mother. "No, no; go to sleep. There's no time to tell a story about three little boys."
Mabel. "Well, then, let me tell you a story about two little boys."
THE RABBITS GAME.
"Don't forget to say 'Rabbits' to-morrow," said Angela. Angela is aged nine and my younger sister; I am thirteen and my name is Anne.
We both looked inquiringly at Father, and, as he didn't seem to remember, Angela in pained surprise began to explain. "If you say 'Rabbits' before you say anything else on the first day of a month you get a present during the month, but you mustn't say anything else first, or you won't."
It all came out in one breath and, though it looks clear enough now, Father was very stupid.
"I dislike rabbits," he said, "and I am very busy; your Mother will probably be glad of them for the servants."
The rebuke in Angela's eyes was severe. "We haven't got any rabbits," she said; "we are only going to say 'Rabbits' to-morrow morning when we wake up and we thought you might like to do the same."
"Oh, I should," said Father; "thank you very much, I won't forget." And he wrote "Rabbits" down on his blotting-paper. "Now go and tell your Mother; she would like to say 'Rabbits' too, I know."