"I'm not undertaking to cultivate a habit at my time of life," she
responded, raising her voice until it sounded harsh and cracked; then
she became a prey to a devouring suspicion. "What is that under your
coat?" she demanded sternly.

Uncle Percival's flaccid mouth fell open with a frightened droop, and he
took instantly the demeanour of a small offending schoolboy.

"It--it's only a little present for Angela," he replied. "I thought it
might interest her, but I hardly think you would care for it, Rosa."

"What is it?" persisted Mrs. Payne in her unyielding calmness.

The object moved beneath his coat, and, pulling it out with a timid yet
triumphant gesture, he displayed before their astonished eyes a
squirming white rabbit.

"I hoped it might interest Angela," he repeated, seeking in vain for
sympathy in the three amazed faces.

The rabbit struggled in his grasp, and after holding it suspended a
moment by the nape of its neck, he cuddled it again beneath his coat. "A
woman was selling them in the street," he explained in a suppressed
voice. "She had a box filled with them. I bought only one."

"That was fortunate," returned Mrs. Payne, severely, "for you will have
to carry the creature back at once--or drown it if you prefer."

"But I thought Angela would like it," he said with a disappointed look.

Angela closed her eyes as if shutting out an irritating sight.

"What in the world would I do with a white rabbit?" she enquired.

"But I could take care of it," insisted Untie Percival. "I should like
to take care of it very much."

Laura drew the rabbit from his coat and held it a moment against her
bosom.

"It's a pretty little thing," she remarked carelessly, and added, "why
not keep it for yourself, Uncle Percival?"

As he glanced up at her the light of animation broke in his face.

"Why shouldn't I, indeed, why shouldn't I?" he demanded eagerly, and
hurried out before Mrs. Payne, with her Solomonic power of judgment,
could bring herself to the point of interference.

"I hope that will be a lesson to you with regard to men," she observed
as a parting shot while she tied her bonnet strings.

An uncontrollable distaste for her family swept over Laura, and she felt
that she could suffer no longer the authority of Mrs. Payne, the
senility of Uncle Percival or the sorrows of Angela. As she looked at
Mrs. Payne she was struck as if for the first time by her ridiculous
grotesqueness, and she experienced