bread through the cage-bars, and wondered whether it would be
possible to keep a sandy-coloured double-lop in the basement of
the house in Fitzroy Street.

'I don't suppose old Nurse would mind VERY much,' said Jane.
'Rabbits are most awfully tame sometimes. I expect it would know
her voice and follow her all about.'

'She'd tumble over it twenty times a day,' said Cyril; 'now a
snake--'

'There aren't any snakes, said Robert hastily, 'and besides, I
never could cotton to snakes somehow--I wonder why.'

'Worms are as bad,' said Anthea, 'and eels and slugs--I think
it's because we don't like things that haven't got legs.'

'Father says snakes have got legs hidden away inside of them,'
said Robert.

'Yes--and he says WE'VE got tails hidden away inside us--but it
doesn't either of it come to anything REALLY,' said Anthea. 'I
hate things that haven't any legs.'

'It's worse when they have too many,' said Jane with a shudder,
'think of centipedes!'

They stood there on the pavement, a cause of some inconvenience
to the passersby, and thus beguiled the time with conversation.
Cyril was leaning his elbow on the top of a hutch that had seemed