"Is you Don Fonnybone?" Bug Buler's little piping voice
from the doorstep haled the Dean. "I finked Vic would turn,
and he don't turn, and I 's hungry for somebody. May I go wis you,
Don Fonnybone?" The baby lips quivered.

Lloyd Fenneben held out his hand and Bug put his little fist into it.

"Where shall we go, Bug? I 'm hungry for somebody, too."

"Let's do find the bunny the bid dod ist scared away this morning.
Turn on!"

Lloyd Fenneben was hardly conscious that Bug was choosing
their path as the two strolled away together. Everywhere there
was the pathos of a waning autumn day, and a soft haze creeping
out of the west was making a blood-red carbuncle of the sun,
set as a jewel on the amber-veiled bosom of the sky.
The air was soft, wooing the spirit to a still, sweet peace.
The two were at the outskirts of Lagonda Ledge now.
The last board walk was three blocks back, and the cinder-made
way had dwindled to a bare hard path by the roadside.
A bend in the river cutting close to the road shows a long vista
of the Walnut bordered by vine-draped shrubbery and overhung
with trees. A slab of limestone beside a huge elm tree had
been placed at this bend to prevent the bank from breaking,
or a chance misdriving into the water.

"I 's pitty tired," Bug said as the two reached the stone.
"Will we tum to the bunny's house pitty soon?"