By-and-by it got dark. The boys finished their play, and went into
the house, and I saw lights twinkling in the windows. I felt lonely
and miserable in this strange place. I would not have gone back to
Jenkins' for the world, still it was the only home I had known, and
though I felt that I should be happy here, I had not yet gotten used
to the change. Then the pain all through my body was dreadful. My
head seemed to be on fire, and there were sharp, darting pains up
and down my backbone. I did not dare to howl, lest I should make
the big dog, Jim, angry. He was sleeping in a kennel, out in the
yard.

The stable was very quiet. Up in the loft above, some rabbits that I
had heard running about had now gone to sleep. The guinea pig
was nestling in the corner of his box, and the cat and the tame rat
had scampered into the house long ago.

At last I could bear the pain no longer. I sat up in my box and
looked about me. I felt as if I was going to die, and, though I was
very weak, there was something inside me that made me feel as if I
wanted to crawl away somewhere out of sight. I slunk out into the
yard, and along the stable wall, where there was a thick clump of
raspberry bushes. I crept in among them and lay down in the damp
earth. I tried to scratch off my bandages, but they were fastened on
too firmly, and I could not do it. I thought about my poor mother,
and wished she was here to lick my sore ears. Though she was so
unhappy herself, she never wanted to see me suffer. If I had not
disobeyed her, I would not now be suffering so much pain. She had
told me again and again not to snap at Jenkins, for it made him
worse.