up in jail, even if you did have a lot of cabbage and clover? You ought
to let them out right away. Don't you love them at all?"

"Of course I love them," said the boy; "but can't you see that if I let
them out now I will lose them? And, besides, they are tame rabbits and
don't know how to take care of themselves, and would get into all sorts
of trouble, and probably spoil all of the gardens in the neighborhood."

Marjorie looked unconvinced. "Your arguments sound all right," she said;
"but I am sure that they must be wrong somewhere, because it certainly
isn't right for those poor, dear little rabbits to be shut up that way.
They ought to be let out right now. The fence is nearly done and they
wouldn't try to go through the opening while you are working on it; they
would be afraid. If you don't let them out, every one will be talking
about how cruel you are. I suppose that is what those people are talking
about now," and Marjorie pointed to the persons who had overheard her
comments a few moments before.

The boy glanced toward them anxiously, and then toward the shed. "Well,"
he said at last, doubtfully, "perhaps I can manage it;--if only they
won't go through the gap before I can get back to it after opening the
door," and he turned and walked unwilling toward the shed.

"I'll watch the gap," called Marjorie after him.

When he reached the building, he hesitated for an instant, and then he
drew the bolt and threw open the door; but before he had time to turn
and head them off, out scrambled a white wave of rabbits; big and
little, fat and thin; and with one accord made straight for the opening
in the fence. The boy ran after them, calling excitedly to Marjorie to