"No, no. Please stop, Hare; your questions are very unpleasant."

"Not half so unpleasant as the things are themselves, I can assure
you, Man. I will tell you my story if you like; then you can judge for
yourself. But first, if you will, do you tell me why I am here. Have you
seen more hares about this place?"

"Never, nor any other animals. No, I am wrong, once I saw a dog."

The Hare looked about it anxiously.

"A dog. How horrible! What was it doing? Hunting? If there are no hares
here what could it be hunting? A rabbit, or a pheasant with a broken
wing, or perhaps a fox? I should not mind so much if it were a fox. I
hate foxes; they catch young hares when they are asleep and eat them."

"None of these things. I was told that it belonged to a little girl who
died. That broke its heart, so that it died also when they shut her up
in a box. Therefore it was allowed to accompany her here because it had
loved so much. Indeed I saw them together, both very happy, and together
they went through those gates."

"If dogs love little girls why don't they love hares, at least as
anything likes to be loved, for the dog didn't want to eat the little
girl, did it? I see you can't answer me. Now would you like me to tell
you my story? Something inside of me is saying that I am to do so if you
will listen; also that there is plenty of time, for I am not wanted at
present, and when I am I can run to those gates much quicker than you
could."