ncier, 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.

"Walk him off to the police-station this minute!" exclaimed the Squire
in a voice of fury.

"Oh, sir! oh, please! please, sir! Oh! oh! Don't, sir! don't! I'll never
do it no more!" sobbed the trembling boy.

"Take him to the station-house! Indict him for manslaughter. He might
have killed me?" cried the enraged Squire.

"Beg pardon, sir," said Harry's father, touching his hat; "I've
cautioned that boy times without number; but leave him to me this once
more, sir."

Harry was marched home. His mother was told. She cried bitterly.

"How much money have you?" asked the father.

"Not a--a far--thing," sobbed Harry.

"Then how is the four shillings to be raised to pay for that broken
glass?" continued Mr. Pearson.

"I don't--boo-hoo! kn--now!"

"But I do!" exclaimed Harry's father, in a tone of dreadful meaning.
"_That rabbit must be sold!_"

"No! no!" shrieked Harry; "I'd rathe