"Rabbits, lady! Nice, pretty rabbits for sale!"

The lady stopped long enough to let her umbrella drip all over the basket,
and then she asked: "Are they white rabbits? I don't want any other kind."

"Yes, ma'm, pure white bunnies, with pink eyes, and long, fluffy ears--the
dearest and cutest little things you ever saw. Let me show you."

With that she made a grab in the basket. It was a blind-man's bluff grab,
for she couldn't see one of the rabbits huddling in the corners. Bumper
was the nearest, and her hand closed over him.

"That's the prettiest one I have, ma'm," she said. "He's my pet, an' I
hate to sell him, but I need the money an' you can have him."

It was raining pitchforks outside, or something like that, and, for a
moment, Bumper couldn't see anything but the big drops of water splashing
in his eyes. Then the lady held the umbrella over his head, and he looked
up into her face. She was a sweet, womanly lady, but not exactly the kind
of mistress Bumper had pictured belonging to.

"He is a dear little thing," the lady said, taking him in her arms and
rubbing his back. "And so friendly! Why, he's trying to cuddle up under my
arm."

The fact was, Bumper was trying to get in her muff away from the dripping
umbrella. He made a dive for the nearest open end, and squeezed all but
his tail through.

"How cute of him! I believe I must take him. How much is he?"