Why, 'twas but a few days agone that
my Bucky saith to me--I don't rightly remember how many days agone,
but I mind 'twas the very day when the old Greyhen up to Badgworthy
came to ask me if I had seen her poult--for she's lost a poult, my
lady, hath the poor soul, as your ladyship knoweth. Well, my Bucky
saith to me, 'Bunny,' saith he, 'you may depend that young maister
will grow to be so fine a stag as ever was seen on Exmoor.'" Then
without pausing an instant she called out at the top of her voice to
one of the little rabbits: "Flossy-a! Come back, little bittlehead,
come back, or the fox will catch 'ee!"

The Hind listened very graciously to this long speech, for she loved
to hear good words of her Calf, and she was just a _little_ pleased to
hear of her own good looks. But she could not help looking beautiful,
and she looked all the more so because she very seldom thought about
it. So she returned the compliment by asking after Bunny and her
family.

"Oh! thank you, my lady," answered Bunny, "I reckon we'm well. There
han't been no man this way this long time, thanks be; and there's
plenty of meat, and not too much rain. And the family's well, my lady;
look to mun playing all around, so gay; and my third family this
spring, my lady--that I should say so! No, I reckon I can't complain;
but oh, my lady! they foxes, and they weasels! They do tell me that
the old vixen from Cornham Brake hath five cubs; and I can't abide a
vixen--never could. And they weasels--they'm small, but they'm worse
than foxes. Now there's my Bucky. He can't bide home, he saith, these
fine days, but must go and lie out. I says to mun, 'Bucky,' I says,
''tis very well for the likes of her ladyship to lie out every day,
but _you_ should bide home to bury.' But no, he would go. 'Well then,
Bucky,' I says, 'I reckon that you'll grow a pair of horns like his
lordship, brow, bay, and trey, Bucky,' I says, 'and turn to bay when
the weasel's after 'ee.' And with that he layeth back his ears and
away he goeth--Flossy-a, come back, will 'ee, or I'll give you what
vor! Now there's that Flossy, my lady, so like to her father as my two
ears. She won't bide close to bury; and they do tell me that the vixen
to Cornham has moved this way. It won't do, my lady, it won't do. Oh
dear, dear, dear!" And she stopped for want of breath.

"Well, good evening, Bunny," said the Hind very kindly, "I must take
my little son home. I shall see you again very soon."

"A