Chapter 13

I cried so loud that there was a whirr of wings on this side and on that, and far up the glade a coney heard me, and sat up in the middle of the path like a Christian, with one paw held up, just as Parson does, giving the blessing. Only it was a curse that his cousin, the hare, gave me. I wondered why it cursed me so. Was it of its own free will and wish, or did the devil drive it? Did God begrutch me an ’usband and a cot of rushes, that He’d let it be so? In the years after, it did often seem a queer thing that I …