TATTINE by Ruth Ogden [Mrs. Charles W. Ide] CHAPTER I. TROUBLE NO. 1 Whether you happen to be four or five, or six, or seven, or even olderthan that, no doubt you know by this time that a great many things needto be learned in this world, everything, in fact, and never more thingsthan at seven. At least, so thought little Tattine, and what troubledher the most was that some of the things seemed quite wrong, and yetno one was able to right them. All her little life Tattine's Mother hadbeen setting things straight for her, drying every tear, and unravellingevery tangle, so that Tattine was pretty downhearted the day shediscovered that there were some things that were quite beyond even herMother's power to alter. It was on a lovely June morning thatTattine made the first of her unwelcome discoveries. She was feelingparticularly happy too, until she made it. She was sitting up in anapple-tree, sketching, and doing it very well. She had taken only a fewdrawing-lessons but had taken to them immensely, and now with one limbof the tree for a seat and another one for an easel, she was workingaway at a pretty chime tower, that stood on a neighbor's land. Down on the grass beneath her Betsy and Doctor were lying. Betsy was adear, homely red-and-white Laverack setter, and Doctor, black-and-whiteand better looking, was her son. Doctor's beautiful grandmother Tadjiewas lying, alas! under the grass instead of on it, not very far away. It was a sad day for the dog world when Tadjie left it, for although shewas very old, she was very beautiful up to the last with a glossysilky coat, a superbly feathered tail, and with brown eyes so soft andentreating, they fairly made you love her, whether you were fond of dogsor no. Well, Tattine was sketching away and was quite absorbed in it, butDoctor, who was little more than a puppy, thought it very dull. He laywith his head between his paws, and, without moving a muscle, rolled hiseyes round and round, now gazing up at Tattine, and then at his mother, trying to be happy though quiet. Finally he stretched himself, got onhis feet, cocked up his ears, and came and stood in front of Betsy, and although not a sound was heard, he said, so that Betsy perfectlyunderstood him, "I can't stand this any longer. If you have any love forme do please come for a run. " Then Betsy took one long stretch and with motherly self-sacrificereluctantly got up, prepared to humor this lively boy of hers. SuddenlyDoctor craned his head high in the air, and gave a little sniff, andthen Betsy craned her head and sniffed. Then they stole as stealthilyaway as though stepping upon eggs, and Tattine never knew that they hadgone. It was no stealthy treading very long, however. No sooner had theycrossed the roadway than they made sure of the scent they thought theyhad discovered, and made one wild rush down through the sumach andsweet-fern to the ravine. In a few moments it was one wild rush up againright to the foot of Tattine's apple-tree, and Tattine looked down tosee Doctor--oh, could she believe her two blue eyes!--with a dear littlerabbit clinched firmly between his teeth, and his mother (think of it, his mother!) actually standing proudly by and wildly waving her tailfrom side to side, in the most delighted manner possible. As forTattine, she simply gave one horrified little scream and was downfrom the tree in a flash, while the scream fortunately brought Maggiehurrying from the house, and as Maggie was Doctor's confidential friend(owing to certain choice little morsels, dispensed from the butler'spantry window with great regularity three times a day), he at once, ather command, relaxed his hold on the little jack-rabbit. The poor littlething was still breathing, breathing indeed with all his might and main, so that his heart thumped against his little brown sides with allthe regularity of a Rider Engine. Tattine's first thought was for therabbit, and she held it close to her, stroking it with one little browntrembling hand and saying, "There! there! Hush, you little dear; you'resafe now, don't be frightened! Tattine wouldn't hurt you for the world. "Her next thought was for Doctor, and she turned on him with a torrent ofabuse, that ought to have made the hair of that young M. D. Stand on end. "Oh, you cruel, CRUEL dog! whatever made you do such a thing as this? Inever dreamt it of you, never. " At this Betsy's tail dropped betweenher legs, for she was a coward at heart, but Doctor held his ground, histail standing on end, as his hair should have done, and his eyes allthe while fairly devouring the little rabbit. "And the worst of it, "continued Tattine, "is that no matter how sorry you may feel" (Betsywas the only one who showed any signs of sorrow, and she was more scaredthan sorry), "no matter how sorry you may feel, that will not mendthings. You do not know where this baby lived, and who are its fatherand mother, and like as not it is too young to live at all away fromthem and will die, " and Tattine raised one plump little hand and gaveDoctor a slap that at least made him "turn tail, " and slink ratherdoggedly away to his own particular hole under the laundry steps. Andnow it was time to find Mamma--high time, for it seemed to Tattineshe would choke with all the feelings, sorrowful and angry, welling upwithin her. Mamma was not far afield--that is, she was very near, ather desk in the cosy little alcove of the upstairs hall-way, and Tattinesoon found her. "Now, Mamma, " she asked excitedly, "did you know that Betsy or Doctorwould do such a thing as this?" The trembling little rabbit in Tattine's hands showed what was meant byTHIS. Mrs. Gerald paused a moment, then she said reluctantly, "Yes, Tattine, Idid. " "Have they done it before, Mamma?" "I am sorry to say they have. " "Have you seen them bring struggling rabbits dangling in their mouthsright up to the house here, Mamma?" Mrs. Gerald merely shook her head. She felt so sorry to have to own tosuch a sight. "Why did I never know it, Mamma?" "You have never chanced to be on the spot, dear, when it happened, and Iwas in no hurry to tell you anything that I knew would make you sad. " "I think it would have been better to tell me. It's awful to find such athing out suddenly about dogs you've trusted, and to think how good andgentle they look when they come and put their heads in your lap to bepetted, just as though they would not hurt a fly; but then, of course, anyone who has eyes knows that they do lure flies, snapping at them allday long, and just for the fun of it too, not because they need them forfood, as birds do. Mamma, I don't believe there's anything meaner thana Laverack setter. Still, Tadjie would never have done such a thing, I know. " Mrs. Gerald was silent, and Tattine, expecting her to confirmwhat she had said, grew a little suspicious. "Would Tadjie, Mamma?" witha directness that would not admit of indirectness. "Yes, Tattine; Tadjie would. She was trained to hunt before ever she wasgiven to Papa, and so were her ancestors before her. That is whyDoctor and Betsy, who have never been trained to hunt, go wild over therabbits. They have inherited the taste. " "Trained to hunt, " said Tattine thoughtfully. "Do you mean that men justwent to work to teach them to be so cruel?" "Well, I suppose in a way setters are natural hunters, Tattine, but thentheir training has doubtless a great deal to do with it, but I want totell you something that I think will give you just a grain of comfort. I read the other day that Sir John Franklin, the great Arctic explorer, who almost lost his life in being attacked by some huge animal--it musthave been a bear, I think--says that the animal when he first gets youin his teeth gives you such a shake that it paralyzes your nerves--thisis, it benumbs all your feelings, so, that, strange as it may seem, you really do not suffer. So let us hope that it was that way with thislittle rabbit. " "But there's a little blood here on one side, Mamma. " "That doesn't always prove suffering, either, Tattine. Soldiers aresometimes wounded without ever knowing it until they see a little signof blood somewhere. " Tattine listened attentively to all this, and was in a measurecomforted. It seemed that Mamma was still able to better things, eventhough not able to set everything perfectly right. "Now, " Tattinesaid, --with a little sigh of relief, "I think I will try and see whatI can do for Bunny. Perhaps he would first like a drink, " so downstairsshe went, and putting some milk in a shallow tea-cup, she dipped Bunny'snose in it, and it seemed to her as though he did take a little of it. Then she trudged up to the garret for a box, and, putting a layer ofcotton-batting in the bottom, laid Bunny in one corner. Then she went tothe garden and pulled a leaf or two of the youngest, greenest lettuce, and put it right within reach of Bunny's nose, and a little saucer ofwater beside it. Then she went down to tell the gardener's little boyall about the sorrowful thing that had happened. The next morning Bunny was still breathing, but the lettuce wasun-nibbled; he had not moved an inch, and he was trembling like a leaf. "Mamma, " she called upstairs, "I think I'll put BUN in the sun" (she wastrying not to be too down-hearted); "he seems to be a little chilly. "Then she sat herself down in the sun to watch him. Soon Bunny ceasedto tremble. "Patrick, " she called to the old man who was using the lawnmower, "is this little rabbit dead?" "Yes, miss, shure, " taking the little thing gently in his hand. "Very well, " she answered quietly. Tattine used those two little wordsvery often; they meant that she accepted the situation, if you happen toknow what that means. "Now I think I will not trouble Mamma about it, "she said to herself thoughtfully, so she went to the closet under thestairs, got a little empty box she knew was there, and, taking it outof doors, she put the little rabbit in it, and then trudged down to thetool-house for her spade and rake. "Bunny is dead, Joey, " she called to the gardener's little boy as shecame back. "Come help me bury him, " and so Joey trotted behind her tothe spot already selected. "We must make this hole good and deep, " sheexplained (Joey stood looking on in wide-eyed wonder), "for if Doctorand Betsy would kill a little live rabbit, there is no telling but theywould dig up a dead one. " So the hole was made at least four inchesdeep, Bunny was buried in it, and the earth, with Joey's assistance, stamped down hard, but afterwards it was loosened somewhat to plant alittle wild-wood plant atop of the tiny grave. "Now, Joey, you wait heretill I go bring something for a tombstone, " Tattine directed, and in asecond she was back again with the cover of a box in one hand and a redcrayon in the other. Sitting flat upon the grass, she printed on thecover in rather irregular letters:-- BORN--I don't know when. DIED June 17th. LAVERACK SETTERS NOT ALLOWED. This she put securely into place, while Joey raked up a little about thespot, and they left the little rabbit grave looking very neat and tidy. The next morning Tattine ran out to see how the little wild-woodplant was growing, and then she stood with her arms akimbo in blankastonishment. The little grave had disappeared. She kicked aside theloose earth, and saw that box and Bunny were both gone, and, not contentwith that, they had partially chewed up the tombstone, which lay uponits face a little distance away. They, of course, meant Betsy andDoctor. "There was no use in my putting: 'Laverack setters notallowed, '" she said to herself sorrowfully, and she ran off to tell herMother of this latest tragedy. "Yes, I know, Tattine dear, " said Mrs. Gerald, in the first pause;"there is neither pity nor mercy in the heart of a setter when he is onthe scent of a rabbit, alive or dead--but, Tattine, don't forget theyhave their good sides, Doctor and Betsy; just think how fond they areof you and me. Why, the very sight of us always makes them beat a tattoowith their tails. " "Yes, I know, Mamma, but I can't feel somehow that tattoos with theirtails make up for killing rabbits with their teeth. " CHAPTER II. A MAPLE-WAX MORNING A team came rushing in between the gate-posts of the stone wall, and itlooked like a run-away. They were riderless and driverless, and if therehad been any harness, there was not a vestige of it to be seen; still, they kept neck and neck, which means in horsey language side by side, and on they came in the maddest fashion. Tattine stood on the frontporch and watched them in high glee, and not a bit afraid was she, though they were coming straight in her direction. When they reachedher they considerately came to a sudden stop, else there is no doubtwhatever but she would have been tumbled over. "Well, you are a team, " laughed Tattine, and they laughed back, "Yes, weknow we are, " and sat down on the step on either side of her. Of course, that would have been a remarkable thing for some teams to do, but notfor this one, for, as you can guess, they were just two little people, Mabel and Rudolph, but they were a perfect team all the same; everybodysaid so, and what everybody meant was this--that whatever Rudolph "wasup to, " Mabel was "up to" also, and vice versa. They traveled togetherfinely, right "up on the bit" all the time. It would have been easierfor those who had charge of them if one or the other had held back nowand then, and set a slower pace, but as that was not their nature andcould not be helped, everybody tried to make the best of them, andeverybody loved them. Tattine did not see how she could ever have livedwithout them, for they were almost as much a brother and sister to heras to each other. This morning hey had come over by invitation for whatthey called a Maple-wax morning, and that was exactly what it was, andif you have never had one of your own, wait till you read about this oneof Tattine's, and then give your dear Mamma no peace until you have hadone, either in your kitchen in town, or in the woods out of town, whichis better. One thing is necessary to its complete enjoyment, however:you must have a "sweet tooth, " but as most little people cut thatparticular tooth very early, probably you are among the fortunatenumber. "Well, I don't see what we are sitting here for, " said Mabel at last. "Neither do I, " said Tattine; "I was only giving you a chance to get alittle breath. You did not seem to have much left. " "No more we had, " laughed Rudolph, who was still taking little swallowsand drawing an occasional long breath, as people do when they have beenexercising very vigorously. "But if everything is ready. " he added, "letus start. " "Well, everything is ready, " said Tattine quite complacently, as she ledthe way to the back piazza, where "everything" was lying in a row. There was the maple sugar itself, two pounds of it on a plate, two largekitchen spoons, a china cup, two sheets of brown wrapping-paper, twoor three newspapers, a box of matches, a pail of clear spring water, ahammer, an ice-pick, and last, and most important of all, a granite-warekettle. "Now if you'll carry these, " explained Tattine, "I'll run and tellPhilip to bring the ice, " so Rudolph and Mabel "loaded up" and marcheddown to the camp, and Tattine disappeared in the direction of theice-house. The camp was not far away, and consisted of a cosy little "A"tent, a hammock hung between two young chestnuts, and a fire-place madeof a circle of stones on the ground, with a crane hanging above it. Thecrane was quite an elaborate contrivance, for which Joseph the gardenerwas to be thanked. The long branch on which the pot hung was pivoted, if you know what thatis, on an upright post fastened firmly in the ground, and in such a waythat you could "higher it, " as Tattine said, or lower it, or swing itclear of the fire on either side. At the end of the branch away from thefire hung a chain, with a few blocks tied into it, for a weight, sothat you lifted the weight with one hand when you wished to changethe position of the branch with the other, and then let it rest on theground again at the spot where you wanted the pole to stay. You see, thegreat advantage of this was that, when you wished to see how things weregoing on inside of the kettle, or to stop its boiling instantly--youcould just swing it away from the fire in no time, and not run the riskof burning face or hands, or petticoats, if you belong to the petticoatfamily. ` "Now, " panted Tattine, for it was her turn to be breathless withrunning, "I'll break the sugar if you two will make the fire, butRudolph's to light it and he's the only one who is to lean over itand put the wood on when it's needed. Mamma says there is to be a verystrict rule about that, because skirts and fluffy hair like mine andMabel's are very dangerous about a fire, " and then Tattine proceededto roll the maple sugar in the brown paper so as to have two or threethicknesses about it, and then, laying it upon a flat stone, began topound and break it with the hammer. "Yes, " said Rudolph, on his knees on the ground, and making balls ofnewspaper for the foundation of the fire; "it's lucky for Mabel and methat fire is one thing about which we can be trusted. " "I shouldn't wonder if it's the only thing, " laughed Tattine, whereuponMabel toppled her over on the grass by way of punishment. "No, but honest!" continued Rudolph, "I have just been trained andtrained about fire. I know it's an awfully dangerous thing. It's justfoolhardy to run any sort of risk with it, and it's wise when you makea fire in the open air like this, to stand on the same side as the windcomes from, even if you haven't any skirts or fluffy hair to catch. " "Here's some more wood, grandfather, " said Mabel solemnly, dumping anarmful down at his side; "I should think you were eighty to hear youtalk, " and then Mabel had her punishment by being chased down the pathand plumped down rather hard in the veriest tangle of brambles andbriars. It chanced, however, that her corduroy skirt furnished all theprotection needed from the sharp little thorns, so that, like "BrerRabbit, " she called out exultingly, "'Born and bred in a briar-patch, Brer Rudolph, born and bred in a briar-patch, '" and could have sat therequite comfortably, no one`knows how long, but that she heard the maplesugar go tumbling into the kettle. And then she heard Tattine say, "A cup of water to two pounds, isn't it?" Then she heard the water gosplash on top of the maple sugar. Now she could stand it no longer, and, clearing the briars at one bound, was almost back at the camp withanother. By this time the fire was blazing away finely, and the sugar, with thehelp of an occasional stirring from the long-handled spoon in Rudolph'shand, soon dissolved. Dissolving sometimes seems to be almost a day'sjourney from boiling, and the children were rather impatient for thatstage to be reached. At last, however, Rudolph announced excitedly, "Itboils, it boils! and now I mustn't leave it for a minute. More wood, Mabel! don't be so slow, and, Tattine, hurry Philip up with that ice, "but Philip was seen at that moment bringing a large piece of ice in awheelbarrow, so Tattine was saved that journey, and devoted the timeinstead to spreading out one of the pieces of wrapping-paper, to keepthe ice from the ground, because of the dead leaves and "things" thatwere likely to cling to it. "Now break off a good-sized piece, Tattine, " Rudolph directed, "and putit on a piece of paper near the fire, " but Tattine knew that was thenext thing to do, so what was the use of Rudolph's telling her? Ithappens quite frequently that people who are giving directions give toomany by far. "Now, Mabel, " continued the drum-major, "will you please bring somemore wood, and will you please put your mind on it and keep bringingit? These little twigs that make the best fire burn out in a twinkling, please notice, " but Mabel did not hurry so very much for the nextarmful; since she could see for herself there was no great need forhaste. Rudolph was simply getting excited, but then the making ofmaple-wax is such a very responsible undertaking, he could not be blamedfor that. You need to stop its boiling at precisely the right moment, else it suddenly reaches the point where, when you cool it, it growsbrittle like "taffy, " and then good-bye to maple-wax for that kettleful. So Rudolph, every half-minute, kept dripping little streams of theboiling sugar from the spoon upon the piece of ice, and Tattine andMabel kept testing it with their fingers and tongues, until both at lastexclaimed in one and the same breath, "It's done! it's done! Lift itoff the fire quickly; it's just right. " Just right means when the sugarhardens in a few seconds, or in a little more than half a minute, intoa delicious consistency like--well, just like maple-wax, for there isnothing else in the world that I know of with which to compare it. Then the children seated themselves around the great cake of ice, andRudolph, with the kettle on the ground beside him, tipped against a logof wood at just the right angle, continued to be master of ceremonies, and dipped spoonful after spoonful of the syrup, and let it trickle overthe ice in queer fantastic shapes or in little, thin round discs likegriddle-cakes. The children ate and ate, and fortunately it seems forsome reason, to be the most harmless sweet that can be indulged in bylittle people. "Well, I've had enough, " remarked Rudolph at the expiration of say aquarter of an hour, "but isn't it wonderful that anything so deliciouscan just trickle out of a tree?" his unmannerly little tongue the whilemaking the circuit of his lips in search of any lingering traces ofsweetness. "Trickle out of a tree!" exclaimed astonished Tattine. "Why, yes, don't you know that's the way they make maple sugar? In thespring, about April, when the sap begins to run up into the maple-trees, and often while the snow is still on the ground, they what they call tapthe tree; they drive a sort of little spout right into the tree andsoon the sap begins to ooze out and drop into buckets that are placedto catch it. Afterwards they boil it down in huge kettles made for thepurpose. They call it sugaring off, and it must be great fun. " "Not half so much fun, I should think, as sugaring down, " laughed Mabel, with her right hand placed significantly where stomachs are supposed tobe. "And now I am going to run up to the house, " explained Tattine, gettingstiffly up from a rather cramped position, "for three or four plates, and Rudolph, you break off some pieces of ice the right size for them, and we will make a little plateful from what is left for each one up atthe house, else I should say we were three little greedies. And Mabel, while I am gone you commence to clear up. " "Well, you are rather cool, Tattine, " said Mabel, but she obediently setto work to gather things together. As you and I cannot be a bit of help in that direction, and have many ofa clearing-up of our own to do, I propose that we lose not a minute inrunning away from that little camp, particularly as we have not had somuch as a taste of the delicious wax they've been making. CHAPTER III. A SET OF SETTERS It was a great bird-year at Oakdene. Never had there been so many. Thesame dear old Phoebe-birds were back, building under the eaves of boththe front and back piazzas. The robins, as usual, were everywhere. The Maryland yellow-throats were nesting in great numbers in theyoung growth of woods on the hill of the ravine, and ringing out theirhammer-like note in the merriest manner; a note that no one understooduntil Dr. Van Dyke told us, in his beautiful little poem, that it is"witchery, witchery, witchery, " and now we wonder that we could havebeen so stupid as not to have discovered it was exactly that, long ago. But the glory of the summer were the orioles and the scarlet tanagers;the orioles with their marvellous notes, and the tanagers in theirscarlet golfing coats glinting here and there in the sunshine. Nestseverywhere, and Tattine on one long voyage of discovery, until she knewwhere at least twenty little bird families were going to crack-shelltheir way into life. But there was one little family of whosewhereabouts she knew nothing, nor anyone else for that matter, until"Hark, what was that?"--Mabel and Rudolph and Tattine were runningacross the end of the porch, and it was Rudolph who brought them to astandstill. "It's puppies under the piazza, that's what it is, " declared Tattine;"where ever did they come from, and how ever do you suppose they gotthere?" "I think it's a good deal more important to know how you'll ever getthem out, " answered Rudolph, who was of a practical turn of mind. "I'll tell you what, " said Tattine thoughtfully, "shouldn't wonder ifthey belong to Betsy. I've seen her crowding herself through one of theair-holes under the piazza several times lately, " whereupon the childrenhurried to peer through the air hole. Nothing was to be seen, however, for the piazza floor was not more than a foot and a half from theground, and it was filled with all sorts of weeds that flourishedwithout sunshine. Still the little puppy cries were persistently waftedout from some remote corner, and, pulling off his jacket, Rudolphstarted to crawl in and investigate. It did not seem possible that hecould make his way, for the place was not high enough for him even tocrawl on his hands and knees, and he had rather to worm himself along onhis elbows in quite indescribable fashion. Still, Tattine and Mabel weremore than ready to have him try, and waited patiently, bending over withtheir hands upon their knees, and gazing in through the weed-grown holein breathless, excited fashion. "I believe I'll have to give it up, " Rudolph called back; "the criesseem as far off as ever and I'm all but scratched to pieces. " "Oh, don't! don't!" cried Tattine and Mabel, in one breath, and Mabel added, "We MUST know what they are and where they are. I shall go in myself ifyou come out. " "Well, you wouldn't go more than three feet then, I can tell you, " andRudolph was right about that. It was only because he hated to give thething up, even more than the girls hated to have him, that made himpersevere. "Well, here they are at last!" he cried exultingly, a fewmoments later; "one, two three, four of them, perfect little beautiestoo. And they must belong to Betsy; they're just like her. " "Bring one out, bring one out!" called both the children, and fairlydancing with delight. "Bring out your grandmother! It's all I can manage to bring myself out, without holding on to a puppy. " "Very well, " Tattine called back, with her usual instant acceptance ofthe inevitable, "but I know what, " and then she was off in a flash, withMabel following closely to find out what WHAT might be. It was Joseph the gardener whom Tattine wanted, and she found him whereshe thought she would, killing potato-bugs in the kitchen-garden. "What do you think, Joseph? Betsy has a beautiful set of little settersunder the piazza. Come quick, please! and see how we can get them out. " Joseph followed obediently. "Guess we'll have to let them stay theretill they crawl out, " said Joseph; "Betsy'll take as good care of themthere as anywhere, " whereupon the children looked the picture of miseryand despair. At this moment Rudolph emerged from the hole a mass ofgrass and dirt stains, and both Mabel and Tattine thought he had beenpretty plucky, though quite too much preoccupied to tell him so, butRudolph happily felt himself repaid for hardships endured, in thedelight of his discovery. "It will be a month before they'll have sense enough to crawl out, " heremarked to Joseph, "and they're wedged in between some old planks invery uncomfortable fashion. They look like fine little fellows too. Ithink we ought to manage in some way to get them out. " "And it would be bad if any of them died there, " said Joseph, rubbing hishead and still ruminating on the subject; "very bad. Well, we'll have tosee what we` can do about it. " "Will you see right away?" urged Tattine eagerly. "May as well, I reckon, " and Joseph walked off in the direction of thetool-house, but to Tattine's regret evidently did not appreciate anyneed for extreme haste. In a little while he was back again with Patrick, and both of them werecarrying spades. "There's only one way to do it, " he explained, asthey set to work; "you see, the pillars of this porch rest on a stonefoundation, so as to support the rooms above, and we'll have to digout three or four of the large stones and then dig a sort of trench towherever the puppies are, " and Rudolph was able of course to indicatethe exact spot to which the trench must lead. It was the work of an hourto excavate the foundation-stones, and an additional half-hour to digthe trench. Meantime Betsy appeared upon the scene, and, evidentlyappreciating what was going on, stood about and superintended matterswith quite an important air. Rudolph clambered in and dug the last fewfeet of the trench, because it did not need to be as large for himas for Joseph and Patrick, and then one at a time he brought the dearlittle puppies out, and Mabel and Tattine took turns in appropriatingthem, while Betsy eyed them proudly but withal a little anxiously. And they were dear; as prettily marked as their beautiful grandmotherTadjie, and too cunning for words. "You have made us a great deal of trouble, Betsy, " said Tattine, "butthey are such beauties we forgive you, " whereat Betsy looked up soaffectionately that Tattine added, "and perhaps some day I'll forgiveyou about that rabbit, since Mamma says it's natural for you to huntthem. " But Betsy, indifferent creature, did not care a fig about allthat; her only care was to watch her little puppies stowed away one byone on fresh sweet-smelling straw, in the same kennel where Doctorand his brothers and sisters had enjoyed their puppy-hood, and then tosnuggle up in a round ball close beside them. They were Betsy's puppiesfor a certainty. There had been no doubt of that from the first glimpseRudolph gained of them in their dark little hole under the porch. Butthe next morning came and then what do you suppose happened? A very weaklittle puppy cry came from under the porch. Another puppy, that was whatit meant, and Joseph was very much out of patience, for the trench hadbeen filled up and the foundation-stones carefully replaced. "Rudolph ought to have made sure how many there were, " he said rathergrowlily. "But, Joseph, this puppy cry comes from another place way over here, itseems to me, " and Tattine ran to a spot on the porch several yards fromthat under which the others had been found. "I believe it must have beena cleverer little puppy than the others, and crawled away by itself tosee what the world was like, and that is why Rudolph missed finding it. " Joseph put his hand to his ear and, listening carefully, concluded thatTattine was right. "Now I'll tell you what I am going to do, " he said;"I can make just a little hole, large enough for a puppy to get through, without taking out a foundation-stone, and I'm going to make it here, near where the cry seems to come from. Then I am going to tie Betsy tothis pillar of the porch, and I believe she'll have sense enough totry and coax the little fellow out, and if the is such an enterprisinglittle chap as you think he'll have sense enough to come out. " It seemed a good plan. Betsy was brought, and Tattine sat down to listenand watch. Betsy, hearing the little cries, began at once to coax, giving little sharp barks at regular intervals, and trying to make thehole larger with her paws. Tattine's ears, which were dear little shells of ears to look at, andvery sharp little ears to hear with, thought the cries sounded a littlenearer, and now a little nearer; then she was sure of it, and Betsy andshe, both growing more excited every minute, kept pushing each otheraway from the hole the better to look into it, until at last two littlebeads of eyes glared out at them, and then it was an easy thing forTattine to reach in and draw out the prettiest puppy of all. "Why didn't you tell us there were five, Betsy, and save us all thisextra trouble?" and Tattine hurried away to deposit number five in thekennel; but Betsy looked up with the most reproachful look imaginableas though to say, "How much talking could you do if you had to do it allwith your eyes and a tail?" CHAPTER IV. MORE TROUBLES Patrick Kirk was raking the gravel on the road into pretty criss-crosspatterns, and Tattine was pretending to help him with her own gardenrake. Patrick was one of Tattine's best friends and she loved to workwith him and to talk to him. Patrick was a fine old Irishman, there wasno doubt whatever about that, faithful and conscientious to the lastdegree. Every morning he would drive over in his old buggy from hislittle farm in the Raritan Valley, in abundant time to begin work onthe minute of seven, and not until the minute of six would he lay asidespade or hoe and turn his steps towards his old horse tied under thetree, behind the barn. But the most attractive thing about Patrick washis genial kindly smile, a smile that said as plainly as words, that hehad found life very comfortable and pleasant, and that he was still morethan content with it notwithstanding that his back was bowed with workmonth in and month out, and the years were hurrying him fast on into oldage. And so Tattine was fond of Patrick, for what (child though she was) sheknew him to be, and they spent many a delightful hour in each other'scompany. "Patrick, " said Tattine, on this particular morning, when they wereraking away side by side, "does Mrs. Kirk ever have a day at home?" andshe glanced at Patrick a little mischievously, doubting if he would knowjust what she meant. "Shure she has all her days at home, Miss Tattine, save on a holiday, when we go for a day's drive to some of our neighbors', but I doubt ifI'm catching just what you're maning. " "Oh! I mean does she have a day sometimes when she gets ready forcompany and expects to have people come and see her, the way ladies doin town?" "Well, no, miss; she don't do that, for, tin to one, nobody'd come ifshe did. We belongs to the workin' classes, Molly and I, and we has notime for the doing of the loikes of city people. " "I'm sorry she hasn't a day, " said Tattine, "because--because--" "If ye're maning that you'd like to give us a call, miss, " said Patrick, beginning to take in the situation, "shure she could have a day at homeas aisy as the foinest lady, and proud indeed she'd be to have it withyour little self for the guest of honor. " "I would like to bring Rudolph and Mabel, Patrick. " "And what should hinder, miss?" "And I'd like to have it an all-day-at-home, say from eleven in themorning until five in the afternoon, and not make just a little call, Patrick. " "Of course, miss, a regular long day, with your donkey put into a stallin the barn, and yourselves and the donkey biding for the best dinner wecan give ye. " "And I'd like to have you there, Patrick, because we might not feel ATHOME just with Mrs. Kirk. " "Well, I don't know, miss; do you suppose your Father could spare me?"and Patrick thought a little regretfully of the dollar and a half hewould insist upon foregoing if he took a day off, but at the samemoment he berated himself soundly for having such an ungenerous thought. "Indade, miss, if you'll manage for me to have the day I'll gladly stayto home to make ye welcome. " "Then it's settled, Patrick, and we'll make it the very first day Papacan spare you. " They had raked down, while they had been having thisconversation, to close proximity to two pretty rows of apple-trees thathad been left on the front lawn, a reminder of the farm that "used tobe, " and the sight of the trees brought a troubled look into Tattine'sface. "Patrick, " she said ruefully, "do you know that some of the nestsin these trees have been robbed of their eggs? Four or five of them areempty now. Have you an idea who could do such a thing?" "Yes, I have an idea, " and Patrick rested his hands upon the handle ofhis rake and looked significantly towards the barn; "somebody who livesin the barn, I'm thinkin'. " "Why, Joseph would not do it, nor Philip the groom, and little Joey istoo small to climb these trees. " "It's something smaller than Joey, miss. Whisht now, and see if she'snot up to mischief this minute. " Tattine's little black-and-white kitten, whose home was in the barn, hadbeen frisking about her feet during all the raking, but as the rakingcame under the apple-trees, other thoughts came into her littleblack-and-white head, and there she was stealthily clawing her way upthe nearest tree. Tattine stood aghast, but Patrick's "whisht" kepther still for a moment, while the cat made its way along one of thebranches. Tattine knowing well the particular nest she was seeking, madeone bound for her with her rake, and with such a scream as certainly toscare little Black-and-white out of at least one of the nine livesto which she is supposed to be entitled. But pussy was too swift andswiftly scrambled to the very topmost twig that would hold her weight, while Tattine danced about in helpless rage on the grass beneath thetree. "Tattine is having a fit, " thought little Black-and-white, scaredhalf to death and quite ready to have a little fit of her own, to judgefrom her wild eyes and bristling tail. Tattine's futile rage was followed in a few minutes by, "Oh, Patrick, I never dreamt it was Kittie. Has SHE been TRAINED to do it, do youthink?" "Oh. No, miss; it just comes natural to cats and kittens to prey uponbirds and birds' nests. " "Patrick, " said Tattine solemnly, "there is not going to be anyfour-legged thing left for me to love. I am done with Betsy and Doctor, and now I'm done with Black-and-white. I wonder if Mamma can make itseem any better, " and then she turned her steps to the house in searchof comfort, but she had gone only half-way when the coachman, who waswaiting at the door with the little grey mare and the phaeton, motionedto her to come quietly. Tattine saw at a glance what had happened, andsped swiftly back to Patrick. "Keep Black-and-white up the tree, " shesaid, in a breathless whisper; "don't let her go near the nest, anddon't let her come down for the world. The little Phoebe-birds havelit. " "All right, miss, " not at all understanding the situation, but more thanwilling to obey orders. Tattine was in such haste to get back to thehouse that she hardly heard his answer. What she had tried to tell himwas that the five little fledglings, crowded into the tiny nest underthe eaves of the porch, had taken it into their heads to try their firstflight at that precise moment, and there they were perched on the shaftsof the phaeton, lighting, as it seemed, on the first thing they came to, while the father and mother birds were flying about in frantic anxietyto see them in such a perilous situation. How could those tiny littleuntrained claws keep their hold on that big round, slippery shaft, andif the carriage started down they would surely go under the wheelsor under the feet of that merciless little grey mare. But the littlefledglings were in better hands than they knew, for, with the exceptionsof Betsy, Doctor, and Black-and-white, every living thing at Oakdene waskind to every other living thing. "Whoa, girlie; whoa, girlie, " had been Patrick's quieting words toLizzie, and then when Tattine came hurrying that way he had motioned herto come quietly for fear of frightening them. Then, as you know, Tattineflew to make sure that treacherous Black-and-white was kept closeguarded, and then back she flew again to the aid of the little birdsthemselves. Softly she drew nearer and nearer, saying over gently, "Whoa, Lizzie! dear little birdies!" until she came very near and thenshe put out one hand towards them. That was enough for the fledglings. Refreshed by their rest on the shafts, they flapped their tiny wingsand fluttered up to the anxious mother bird on the branches above them, wholly unconscious that they had been in any peril whatsoever. "And Black-and-white would have killed them, every one, if she had hadthe chance, " thought Tattine; "oh, if I only knew how to teach her alesson!" CHAPTER V. THE KIRKS AT HOME Barney the donkey was harnessed, and Tattine sat in the littledonkey-cart waiting, and as she waited she was saying aloud, "What, Grandma Luty? Yes, Grandma Luty. No, Grandma Luty. What did yousay, Grandma Luty?" and this she said in the most polite little toneimaginable. Meantime Rudolph and Mabel, discovering that Tattine did notsee them, came stealing along under cover of the apple-trees. "Whatever is Tattine doing, talking to herself like that?" whisperedMabel, and then they came near enough to hear what she was saying. "She's out of her head, " said Rudolph, when they had listened somemoments, and then Tattine turned round and saw them. "No, I'm not out of my head at all, " she laughed; "I was just practicinga little while I waited for you. " "Practicing your GRANDMOTHER, " which as you have observed was apet expression with Rudolph, whenever he wished to intimate that heconsidered your remarks to be simply absurd. "Yes, that's exactly it, " Tattine answered good-naturedly. "I ampracticing my Grandmother. Grandma Luty, that's Mamma's mother, has cometo make us a visit, and Mamma has discovered that I'm not very polite toold people. Children used to be taught, you know, to say, 'Yes'm, ' and'Yes, sir, ' but now that is not considered nice at all, and you mustalways say the name of the person you are speaking to, especially ifthey are older people, to whom you ought to be respectful, " and Tattinesounded quite like a little grandmother herself as she talked. "Yes, we know, and it's an awful bother, " sighed Rudolph. "We're fairlynagged about it, Mabel and I, but Mother says she's going to keep it upuntil we always do it. Perhaps we would get on faster if we practisedby ourselves as you do, but really, Tattine, it did sound as though youwere out of your head, to hear you saying all those sentences over toyourself. " While the children were having this little talk about politeness, Rudolph and Mabel had climbed into the wagon, and the donkey, actingupon a suggestion from Tattine's whip, had started down the roadway. Thetrio were off for Patrick's, for this was to be the day of the Kirks'"At Home, " and, dressed in kis Sunday-best, Patrick that very minute waswaiting at his door to receive them. Full two miles lay ahead of the children, and though Barney fortunatelyseemed to be in the mood for doing his best, Patrick would still havea full half-hour to wait. At last the donkey-cart drew up at the Kirks'door and two happy old people welcomed three happy little people intotheir comfortable little home. It would take another book, the size ofthis one, to tell you all the doings of that August day. First they wentinto the house and laid their wraps on the white coverlid of the greathigh feather-bed in the little spare room, and then Mrs. Kirk sat themdown to three little blue bowls of bread-and-milk, remarking, "shure youmust be after being hungry from your long drive, " and the children ateit with far more relish than home bread-and-milk was ever eaten. "Now I'm doubting, " said Patrick, standing with his back to thecooking-stove and with a corn-cob pipe in his mouth, "if it's the styleto have bread-and-milk at 'At Homes' in the city. " "Patrick, " answered Tattine seriously, "we do not want this to be acity 'At Home. ' I don't care for them at all. Everybody stays for justa little while, and everybody talks at once, and as loudly as they can, and at some of them they only have tea and a little cake or somethinglike that to eat, " and Tattine glanced at the kitchen-table over by thewindow with a smile and a shake of the head, as though very much betterpleased with what she saw there. A pair of chickens lay ready forbroiling on a blue china platter. Several ears of corn were husked readyfor the pot they were to be boiled in. A plate of cold potatoes lookedas though waiting for the frying-pan, and from the depths of a glassfruit-dish a beautiful pile of Fall-pippins towered up to a huge redapple at the top. "Indade, thin, but we'll do our best, " said Mrs. Kirk, "to make it asdifferent from what you be calling a city 'At Home' as possible, and nowsuppose you let Patrick take you over our bit of a farm, and see whatyou foind to interest you, and I'm going wid yer, while ye have a lookat my geese, for there's not the loike of my geese at any of the biggentlemin's farms within tin miles of us. " And so, nothing loth, the little party filed out of the house, and afterall hands had assisted in unharnessing Barney and tying him into hisstall, with a manger-full of sweet, crisp hay for his dinner, theyfollowed Mrs. Kirk's lead to the little pond at the foot of theapple-orchard. And then what did they see! but a truly beautiful greatflock of white geese. Some were sailing gracefully around the pond, somewere pluming their snowy breasts on the shore beside it, and three, thefinest of them all, and each with a bow of ribbon tied round its longneck, were confined within a little picket-fence apart from the others. "Why, what beauties, Mrs. Kirk!" exclaimed Tattine, the minute she spiedthem, "and what are the ribbons for? Do they mean they have taken aprize at some show or other? And why do they each have a differentcolor?" "They mane, " said Mrs. Kirk proudly, standing with her hands uponher hips and her face fairly beaming, "they mane as how they're to bepresinted to you three children. The red is for Master Rudolph, thewhite is for Miss Mabel, and the blue is for you, Miss Tattine. " "Oh, Mrs. Kirk!" the three children exclaimed, with delight, and Mabeladded politely, "But do you really think you can spare them, Mrs. Kirk?" "Why, of course she can! can't you, Mrs. Kirk?" cut in Rudolph warmly, for the idea of relinquishing such a splendid gift was not for a momentto be thought of. "I wonder how we can get them home, " he added, by wayof settling the matter. "Indade, thin, and I have this foine crate ready to go right in the backof your cart, " and there, to be sure, was a fine sort of cage with aboard top and bottom and laths at the sides, while other laths werelying ready to be nailed into place after the geese should have beenstowed away within it. The children were simply wild over this additionto their separate little sets of live-stock, and although the wholeday was delightful, there was all the while an almost impatient lookingforward to the supreme moment when they should start for home with thosebeautiful geese in their keeping. And at last it came. "I wonder if my goose will be a little lonely, " said Tattine, as theyall stood about, watching Patrick nail on the laths. "Faith and it will thin, " said Mrs. Kirk. "It never came to my moindthat they wouldn't all three be together. Here's little Grey-wing tokeep Blue-ribbon company, " and Mrs. Kirk seized one of the smaller geesethat happened to be near her, and squeezed it into the cage through thesmall opening that was left. "Well, if you can spare it, I think that is better, Mrs. Kirk, becauseeverything has a companion over at our place. We have two cats, two pairs of puppies, two little bay horses, and two greys, and twoeverything, but as there's only one of me I am friends with them all--" "Bless your heart, but I'm glad you thought to mintion it, " and thenPatrick and Mrs. Kirk gave each little extended hand a hearty shake, andthe children--declaring over and over that "they had a lovely time andwere so much obliged for the geese"--climbed into the cart and set offfor home. "I'd go the short cut by the ford, " advised Patrick; "it looks like wemight get a shower by sunset. " "Yes, I think we would better, " said Rudolph, glancing toward theclouds in the west Rudolph prided himself on his ability to forecastthe weather, and was generally able to tell correctly when a shower waspretty sure to come and when it was likely to "go round. " So Barney was coaxed into a good gait, which he was ready as a rule totake towards home, and the little ford by way of a farm-lane, and whichsaved a good mile on the road home, was soon reached. Barney knew theplace well and, always enjoying it, picked his way carefully to themiddle of the ford, and then he took it into his stubborn little head tostand stock still, and to plant his four hoofs firmly in the nice softmud at the bottom of the stream. "Go on, " urged Tattine; "Go on, " urged Mabel, and Rudolph applied hissapling whip with might and main, but all to no effect. Meantime somegeese from a neighboring farm had come sailing out into the ford, tohave a look at their friends in the crate, and the geese in the crate, wild to be out on the water with their comrades, craned their long necksfar out between the laths, and set up a tremendous squawking. It wasrather a comical situation, and the children laughed till their sidesached, but after a while it ceased to be so funny. The clouds wererolling up blacker, and there was an occasional flash of lightning faroff in the distance, but Barney stood still obdurate and unmoved, simply revelling in the sensation of the cool water, running down-streamagainst his four little donkey-legs. At last Rudolph was at his wits'end, for what did Tattine and Mabel do but commence to cry. Great dropsof rain were falling now, and they COULD NOT BEAR THE THOUGHT of beingmid-way in that stream with the storm breaking right above their heads, and when girls, little or big, young or old, cannot bear the thought ofthings they cry. It does not always help matters; it frequently makesthem more difficult, but then again sometimes it does help a little, andthis appeared to be one of those things, for when the girls' crying putRudolph to his wits' end, he realized that there was just one thing leftto try, and that was to jump overboard and try and pull Barney to land, since Barney would not pull him. So into the water he jumped, keepingthe reins in his hand, and then, getting a little ahead of Barney, hebegan to walk and pull. Now fortunately, there is nothing like the forceof example, which simply means that when Barney saw Rudolph walking andpulling he began to walk and pull too. Meantime, while Patrick and his wife were thinking that the childrenhad had plenty of time to reach home before the storm, there was greatanxiety in the two homes where those three dear children lived. Patrickthe coachman and Philip the groom had been sent with the wagonetteby the main road to Patrick Kirk's--Patrick to bring the children andPhilip to take charge of Barney, but as the children were coming home, or rather trying to come home, by the ford, of course they missed them. All the while the storm was growing in violence, and suddenly for aboutfive minutes great hailstones came beating down till the lawn was fairlywhite with them, and the panes of glass in the green-house roof atOakdene cracked and broke beneath them. "And those three blessedchildren are probably out in it all, " thought Tattine's Mother, standingpale and trembling at her window, and watching the road which thewagonette would have to come. And then what did she see but Barney, trotting bravely up the hill, with the geese still craning their necksthrough the laths of the cage, but the reins dragging through the mud ofthe roadway, and with no children in the little cart. Close behind himcame the wagonette, which Barney was cleverly managing to keep wellahead of, but Mrs. Gerald soon discovered that neither were the childrenin that either. In an instant she was down the stairs and out on theporch to meet Patrick at the door. "It isn't possible you have no word of the children?" she criedexcitedly. "Patrick Kirk says they started home by the ford in time to reach herean hour before the storm, " gasped Patrick, "but we came back by the fordourselves and not a sign have we seen of them, till Barney ran out ofthe woods ahead of us five minutes ago. " And then a dreadful thought flashed through her mind. Could it bepossible they had been drowned in the ford? But that moment her eyessaw something that made her heart leap for joy, something that lookeddrowned enough, but wasn't. Rudolph was running up the hill as fast ashis soaking clothing would let him, and, reaching the door breathlessenough, he sank down on the floor of the porch. "Oh, Mrs. Gerald, " he said, as soon as he could catch his breath, "Mabeland Tattine are all right; they're safe in the log play-house at theCornwells', but we've had an awful fright. Is Barney home? When the hailcame I tied him to a tree and we ran into the log house, but he brokeaway the next minute and took to his heels and ran as fast as his legscould carry him. Barney's an awful fraud, Mrs. Gerald. " But Mrs. Gerald had no time just then to give heed to Barney'smisdoings. Seizing a wrap from the hall, she ordered Rudolph into thehouse and to bed, as quickly as he could be gotten there, sent Philipto Rudolph's Mother with the word that the children were safe, and thenstarted off in the wagonette to bring Mabel and Tattine home. "Mamma, " said Tattine, snuggling her wet little self close to herMother's side in the carriage, "Rudolph was just splendid, the way hehauled Barney and us and the cart out of the water, but Mamma, I am donewith Barney now too. He's not to be trusted either. " Mrs. Gerald thought of two or three things that might be urged inBarney's favor, but it did not seem kind even to attempt to reason withtwo such tired and soaking little specimens, so she only said, "Well, Barney can never again be trusted in the ford, that's one sure thing. " "No, indeed, " said Mabel warmly; "I would not give fifty cents for him. " "You can have him for nothing, " said Tattine, with a wan little smile;"after this he can never be trusted in anything. " CHAPTER VI. "IT IS THEIR NATURE TO. " Tattine was getting on beautifully with her attempt to use GrandmaLuty's name at the proper time, and in the proper place, and shewas getting on beautifully with grandma herself as well. She lovedeverything about her, and wished it need not be so very long till shecould be a grandma herself, have white hair and wear snowy caps atopof it, and kerchiefs around her neck, and use gold eye-glasses anda knitting-basket. Grandma Luty, you see, was one of the dear, old-fashioned grandmothers. There are not many of them nowadays. Most ofthem seem to like to dress so you cannot tell a grandmother from just anordinary everyday mother. If you have a grandmother--a nice old one, Imean--see if you cannot get her into the cap and kerchief, and then showher how lovely she looks in them. But what I was going to tell you wasthat Grandma Luty's visit was all a joy to Tattine, and so when, just atdaylight one morning, the setter puppies in their kennel at the back ofthe house commenced a prodigious barking, Tattine's first thought wasfor Grandma. "It's a perfect shame to have them wake her up, " she said to herself, "and I know a way to stop them, " so, quiet as a mouse, she stole outof bed, slipped into her bed-slippers and her nurse's wrapper, that waslying across a chair, and then just as noiselessly stole downstairs, andunlocking the door leading to the back porch, hurried to open the gateof the kennel, for simply to let the puppies run she knew would stoptheir barking. Tattine was right about that, but just as she swung thegate open, a happy thought struck those four little puppies' minds, andas she started to run back to the house, all four of them buried theirsharp little teeth in the frill of Priscilla's wrapper. Still Tattine succeeded in making her way across the lawn back to thedoor, although she had four puppies in tow and was almost weak fromlaughing. She knew perfectly well what a funny picture she must make, with thewrapper that was so much too large for her, only kept in place by thebig puff sleeves: and with the puppies pulling away for dear life, itthe train. When she reached the screen door, she had a tussle with them, one by one, taking a sort of reef in the trailing skirt as each puppywas successfully disposed of, until all of it was clear of the sharplittle teeth, and she could bang the door to between them. I do not believe Grandma Luty ever laughed harder than when Tattine toldher all about it as they sat together in the porch that morning afterbreakfast. She even laughed her cap way over on one side, so thatTattine had to take out the gold pins and put them in again tostraighten it. "But Grandma, " said Tattine, when they had sobered down, "those puppies, cunning as they are now, will just be cruel setters when they grow up, killing everything they come across, birds and rabbits and chipmunks. " "Tattine, " said Grandma Luty, with her dear, kindly smile "your Motherhas told me how disappointed you have been this summer in Betsy andDoctor and little Black-and-white, and that now Barney has fallen intodisgrace, since he kept you so long in the ford the other day, but Iwant to tell you something. You must not stop loving them at all becausethey do what you call cruel things. You have heard the old rhyme:-- "Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God has made them so: Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature to. " "Oh, yes, I know that, " said Tattine, "and I don't think it's all quitetrue; our dogs don't bite (I suppose it means biting people), bad asthey are. " "No; I've always thought myself that line was not quite fair to thedogs either, but the verses mean that we mustn't blame animals for doingthings that it is their nature to do. " "And yet, Grandma, I am not allowed to do naughty things because it ismy nature to. " "Ah, but, Tattine, there lies the beautiful difference. You can bereasoned with, and made to understand things, so that you can changeyour nature--I mean the part of you that makes you sometimes love to donaughty things. "There's another part of your nature that is dear and good and sweet, and doesn't need to be changed at all. But Betsy and Doctor can only betrained in a few ways, and never to really change their nature. "Setters have hunted rabbits always, kittens have preyed upon birds, anddonkeys, as a rule, have stood still whenever they wanted to. " "But why, I wonder, were they made so?" "You nor I nor nobody knows, Tattine, but isn't it fine that for somereason we are made differently? If we will only be reasonable and tryhard enough and in the right way, we can overcome anything. " "It's a little like a sermon, Grandma Luty. " "It's a little bit of a one then, for it's over, but you go this minuteand give Betsy and Doctor a good hard hug, and tell them you forgivethem. " And Tattine did as she was bid, and Doctor and Betsy, who had sadlymissed her petting, were wild with delight. "But don't even you yourselves wish, " she said, looking down atthem ruefully, "that it was not your nature to kill dear little babyrabbits?" And Tattine thought they looked as though they really were very sorryindeed.