The Tale of Peter Rabbit (3 page)

Peter
sat down to rest; he was out of breath and
trembling with fright, and he had not the least idea which way to go. Also he was very damp with sitting in
that can.

After
a time he began to wander about, going
lippity – lippity – not very fast, and looking all round.

He found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room for a fat little
rabbit to squeeze underneath.

An
old mouse was running in and out over the stone
doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she
had such a large pea in her mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to
cry.

Then
he tried to find his way straight across the
garden, but he became more and more puzzled. Presently, he came to a pond where Mr. McGregor filled his
water-cans. A white cat was staring at some goldfish; she sat very, very still, but now and then the tip of
her tail twitched as if it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her; he had
heard about cats from his cousin, little Benjamin Bunny.

He
went back towards the tool-shed, but suddenly,
quite close to him, he heard the noise of a hoe – scr-r-ritch, scratch, scratch, scritch. Peter scuttered
underneath the bushes.

But
presently, as nothing happened, he came out,
and climbed upon a wheelbarrow, and peeped over. The first thing he saw was Mr. McGregor hoeing onions. His
back was turned towards Peter, and beyond him was the gate!

Peter
got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow,
and started running as fast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some black-currant bushes.

Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not care. He slipped
underneath the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outside the garden.

Mr
.
Mc
Gregor
hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a
scarecrow to frighten the blackbirds.

Peter
never stopped running or looked behind him
till he got home to the big fir-tree.

He
was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice
soft sand on the floor of the rabbit-hole, and shut his eyes. His mother was busy cooking; she wondered what
he had done with his clothes. It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a
fortnight!

I
am
sorry to say that Peter was not very well
during the evening.

His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to
Peter!

“One table-spoonful to be taken at bed-time.”