d it on Clara's
lap, and Clara had the pleasure of dressing it herself in the nice new
frock; and the baby looked so neat and pretty, and the poor mother was
so pleased, that Clara was much happier than if she had spent her time
in playing or working for her doll.

While Clara was nursing and caressing the baby, Charles went into the
little garden, where he found Giles Bloomfield, who had just returned
from working in the fields, with a beautiful milk-white rabbit in his
arms, which he had taken out of the hutch, and was nursing with much
affection.

'Oh, what a pretty rabbit!' said Charles. 'Giles, will you sell it to
me?'

'No, Master Charles,' said Giles, 'I cannot sell my pretty Snowball.'

'And why not?' asked Charles in a fretful tone.

'Because, Master Charles, the old doe, its mother, died when Snowball
was only a week old, and I reared it by feeding it with warm milk and
bran; and it is now so fond of me that I would not part with it for a
great deal.'

So saying, he stroked his pretty favourite, who licked his hand all
over, and rubbed her soft white head against his fingers.

Then Giles said: 'My dear Snowball, I would not sell you for the world.'

'But you shall sell Snowball to me,' said Charles, making one of his
ugly faces. 'I will give you a shilling for her; and if you do not let
me carry her home this very day, I will tell father of you, and he will
turn you out of the cottage.'

When Giles's mother heard Charles say so, she came out of the house, and
said: 'Pray, Giles, let Master Charles have the rabbit.'

'Dear mother,' said Giles, 'Master Charles has a pony and a dog, and a
great many fine toys to play with, and I have only my pretty Snowball;
and it will break my heart to part with her.'

'Then,' said his mother, 'would you rather see your mother and sisters
turned out of doors than part with your rabbit? You know, Giles, that I
had so many expenses with your poor father's illness and death that I
have not paid the rent due last quarter-day; and you know it is in our
landlord's power to turn us into the streets to-morrow.

'Well, mother,' cried Giles, bursting into tears, 'Master Charles must
have the rabbit. But oh!' continued he, 'he does not love you as I do,
my pretty Snowball; he will not feed and take care of you as I have
done, and you will soon die, and I shall never see you again.' And his
tears fell fast on the white head of his little pet as he spoke.

Clara was quite gr