This man might be a farmer. He had long white hair that hung down under
the brim of his black hat, and though he did not have such a nice face
as did the children's father, or their Uncle Tad, still they were not
afraid of him.

"Going after milk, little ones?" asked the old man, and his voice was
not unpleasant.

"No, sir; we've just been," said Bunny.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll spill your milk if you swing your pail that
way," went on the old man, for Bunny was moving the pail to and fro,
with wide swings of his arms.

"It would spill, if there was any in the pail," said Sue.

"But there isn't," added Bunny.

"It's spilled already and we don't know where to get any more,"
explained Sue.

"It wasn't _'zactly_ spilled," Bunny added, for he and Sue always tried
to speak the exact truth. "A dog drank it up."

"While we were chasin' a squirrel," added his sister.

"But I would have driven him away if I'd seen him in time," Bunny
declared positively. "He put his nose right in the pail and licked up
all the milk, and what he didn't eat he spilled and then he ran away."