"Bless me," said their new friend, "that's not at all _my_ business, is it? Not at all in my line--oh, no!" He gathered up his hat, dress-suit case, and little umbrella from the floor where he had dropped them. "Be sure you don't follow me," he said, nodding pleasantly and winking at the children. Then he stepped to the door without so much as a look at the Gentleman Goose who called out angrily: "Stop, stop! Catch 'em, Squealer--at 'em, Squawker--hold 'em, boys!" It was too late. The boys were too much afraid of the Hare to do more than flutter and squawk a little, and as the Gentleman Goose did not seem inclined to make an attack single-handed, the Hare, with the children behind him, got to the door in safety. Peter, however, had to be dragged along by Ann and Rudolf, for the Lady Goose had just removed the great pot from the stove in time to prevent its contents from boiling over, and the little boy was sniffing hungrily at the steam. Now she came after the children carrying a large spoonful of the bubbling stuff. "All done, all done," she cried. "Don't go without a taste, dears." "What's done?" asked Peter, eagerly turning back to her. "Worms, dear; red ones and brown ones," answered the Lady Goose,--"boiled in vinegar, you know--just like mother used to make--with a wee bit of a grasshopper here and there for flavoring. Mother had the recipe handed down in her family--her side--you know, from my great-great-grandmother's half-sister who was a De l'Oie but married a Mr. Gans and was potted in the year--" They got Peter through the door by main force, Ann and Rudolf pushing behind and the Hare pulling in front. Even then, I am ashamed to say, Peter kept calling out that he would like "just a taste", and he didn't see why the Goose's worms wouldn't be just as good as the white kind cook sent up with cheese on the top! [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IV THE FALSE HARE As they hurried away from the Goose's house, the children cast one last look behind them. There at the window was the Lady Goose waving in farewell the spoon she had stirred the hot worms with. Suddenly a whirl of white feathers flew out of the chimney, the window and the door, which the children in their haste had left open behind them, and hid her completely from their sight. At the same instant two feeble shrieks came from within the house. "Squealer and Squawker both went into the heap that time, I guess," said Rudolf. "I'm glad of it!" Ann cried. "_I'd_ never help either of the horrid little things out again. Would you, sir?" she asked, turning politely to the Hare. "I dare say not," he answered, yawning. "That is, of course, unless I had particularly promised _not_ to. In that case I suppose I'd have to." All three children looked very much puzzled. "Would you mind telling us," asked Ann timidly, "what you meant when you said _this_"--and she touched her hair--"was not your business?"