The big man with the fierce white moustaches glared over the top of his glasses at the intruders as if amazed beyond belief at the audacity of the request. "Rabbits!" he exclaimed, as though the mere word ought to have caused an instant explosion. "Rabbits!" "Oh, _please_ do." "Rabbits at this time of night!" he repeated. "I never heard of such a thing. Why, all good rabbits are asleep in their holes by now. And you ought to be in yours too by rights, I'm sure." "We don't sleep in holes, father," said the owner of the brown hair, who was acting as leader. "And there's still a nour before bedtime, _really_," added a voice in the rear. The big man slowly put his glasses down and looked at his watch. He looked very savage, but of course it was all pretence, and the children knew it. "If he was _really_ cross he'd pretend to be nice," they whispered to each other, with merciless perception. "Well--" he began. But he who hesitates, with children, is lost. The door flung open wide, and the troop poured into the room in a medley of long black legs, flying hair and outstretched hands. They surrounded the table, swarmed upon his big knees, shut his stupid old book, tried on his glasses, kissed him, and fell to discussing the game breathlessly all at once, as though it had already begun. This, of course, ended the battle, and the big man had to play the part of the Monster Rabbit in a wonderful game of his own invention. But when, at length, it was all over, and they were gathered panting round the fire of blazing logs in the hall, the Monster Rabbit--the only one with any breath at his command--looked up and spoke. "Where's Jimbo?" he asked. "Upstairs." "Why didn't he come and play too?" "He didn't want to." "Why? What's he doing?" Several answers were forthcoming. "Nothing in p'tickler." "Talking to the furniture when I last saw him." "Just thinking, as usual, or staring in the fire." None of the answers seemed to satisfy the Monster Rabbit, for when he kissed them a little later and said good-night, he gave orders, with a graver face, for Jimbo to be sent down to the study before he went to bed. Moreover, he called him "James," which was a sure sign of parental displeasure. "James, why didn't you come and play with your brothers and sisters just now?" asked the Colonel, as a dreamy-eyed boy of about eight, with a mop of dark hair and a wistful expression, came slowly forward into the room. "I was in the middle of making pictures." "Where--what--making pictures?" "In the fire." "James," said the Colonel in a serious tone, "don't you know that you are getting too old now for that sort of thing? If you dream so much, you'll fall asleep altogether some fine day, and never wake up again. Just think what that means!"