Spring came, and they had long days in the garden, for wherever the
Boy went the Rabbit went too. He had rides in the wheelbarrow, and
picnics on the grass, and lovely fairy huts built for him under the
raspberry canes behind the flower border. And once, when the Boy was
called away suddenly to go out to tea, the Rabbit was left out on the
lawn until long after dusk, and Nana had to come and look for him with
the candle because the Boy couldn't go to sleep unless he was there.
He was wet through with the dew and quite earthy from diving into the
burrows the Boy had made for him in the flower bed, and Nana grumbled
as she rubbed him off with a corner of her apron.
Spring Time
"You must have your old Bunny!" she said. "Fancy all that fuss for a
toy!"
The Boy sat up in bed and stretched out his hands.
"Give me my Bunny!" he said. "You mustn't say that. He isn't a toy.
He's REAL!"
When the little Rabbit heard that he was happy, for he knew that what
the Skin Horse had said was true at last. The nursery magic had
happened to him, and he was a toy no longer. He was Real. The Boy
himself had said it.
That night he was almost too happy to sleep, and so much love stirred
in his little sawdust heart that it almost burst. And into his
boot-button eyes, that had long ago lost their polish, there came a
look of wisdom and beauty, so that even Nana noticed it next morning
when she picked him up, and said, "I declare if that old Bunny hasn't
got quite a knowing expression!"
That was a wonderful Summer!
Near the house where they lived there was a wood, and in the long June
evenings the Boy liked to go there after tea to play. He took the
Velveteen Rabbit with him, and before he wandered off to pick flowers,
or play at brigands among the trees, he always made the Rabbit a
little nest somewhere among the bracken, where he would be quite cosy,
for he was a kind-hearted little boy and he liked Bunny to be
comfortable. One evening, while the Rabbit was lying there alone,
watching the ants that ran to and fro between his velvet paws in the
grass, he saw two strange beings creep out of the tall bracken near
him.
They were rabbits like himself, but quite furry and brand-new. They
must have been very well made, for their seams didn't show at all, and
they changed shape in a queer way when they moved; one minute they
were long and thin and the next minute fat and bunchy, instead of
always staying the same like he did. Their feet padded softly on the
ground, and they crept quite close to him, twitching their noses,
while the Rabbit stared hard to see which side the clockwork stuck
out, for he knew that people who jump generally have something to wind
them up. But he couldn't see it. They were evidently a new kind of
rabbit altogether.
Summer Days
They stared at him, and the little Rabbit stared back. And all the
time their noses twitched.
"Why don't you get up and play with us?" one of them asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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