As they hurried away from the Goose's house, the children cast one last look behind them. There at the window was the Lady Goose waving in farewell the spoon she had stirred the hot worms with. Suddenly a whirl of white feathers flew out of the chimney, the window and the door, which the children in their haste had left open behind them, and hid her completely from their sight. At the same instant two feeble shrieks came from within the house.

"Squealer and Squawker both went into the heap that time, I guess," said Rudolf.

"I'm glad of it!" Ann cried. "I'd never help either of the horrid little things out again. Would you, sir?" she asked, turning politely to the Hare.

"I dare say not," he answered, yawning. "That is, of course, unless I had particularly promised not to. In that case I suppose I'd have to."

All three children looked very much puzzled.

"Would you mind telling us," asked Ann timidly, "what you meant when you said this"—and she touched her hair—"was not your business?"

"Not at all," said the Hare cheerfully. "I meant that it was."

"But you said—"

"Oh, what I said was, of course, untrue."

"Do you mean you tell stories?" Ann looked very much shocked, and so did the others.

"Certainly," said the Hare, "that's my business, I'm a False Hare, you know. Oh, dear, yes, I tell heaps and heaps of stories, as many as I possibly can, only sometimes I forget and then something true will slip out of me. Oh, it's a hard life, it is, to be thoroughly untruthful every single day from the time you get up in the morning till the time you go to bed at night—round and round the clock, you know! No eight-hour day for me. Ah, it's a sad, sad life!" He sighed very mournfully, at the same time winking at Rudolf in such a funny way that the boy burst out laughing. "Take warning by me, young man," he continued solemnly, "and inquire very, very carefully concerning whatever business you go into. If I had known what the life of a False Hare really was, I doubt if I should have ever—But, dear me, this will never do—you're getting me into mischief! I've hardly done so much as a fib since we met."

"Oh, you mustn't mind us," said Rudolf, trying hard not to laugh, as he and Ann and Peter marched along beside the False Hare. "You mustn't let us interfere with your—your business, you know. We sha'n't mind, at least we'll try not to. Whatever you say we'll believe just the opposite. It'll be as if he were a kind of game," he added to Ann who was still looking very doubtful. She looked happier at once, for Ann was quick at games and knew it.

"I think," said she to the False Hare, "that I heard something about you the other day—at least I suppose it must have been you. It was at a tea-party given by a friend of mine,"—here Ann put on her most grown-up manner and made her voice sound as much like her mother's as possible—"a Mrs. Mackenzie who lives in the city. One lady said to another lady, 'How fashionable false hair is getting!'"

The False Hare stroked his whiskers to hide a pleased smile. "Bless me," said he, "I should think so! Keeps a fellow on the jump, I can tell you—this social whirl. And then, when bedtime comes along and a chap ought to get a bit of rest after a day's hard fibbing, why then—there's the dream business. I can't neglect that."

The children did not understand and said so.

"Well," said the False Hare, "I'll just explain, and then I really must get back to business. Now then, suppose a hound dreams about a hare? It's a dream hare, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course," they cried.

"And a dream hare is not a real hare, is it? And a hare that's not a real hare is a false hare, isn't it? So there I am. That's where I come in. Simple, isn't it?"

"You make it sound simple," said Rudolf politely. "We're much obliged. And now would you mind telling us where we are coming to, and what is beyond this steep hill just ahead of us?"

The Hare screwed his glass into his eye and looked thoughtfully at the country round about. "I can tell you, of course," he said, "but it won't be the truth. I really must get back to business."

"Oh, never mind telling us at all, then," said Rudolf, who was becoming rather vexed, "I see there's no use asking you any questions."

During their conversation with the False Hare, the children had been hurrying along over a stretch of open level country. Now the ground began to slope gradually upward and soon they were climbing a very steep hill. It was hard traveling, for the hill was covered with thick, fuzzy, whitish-yellow grass which tangled itself round their feet, and gave them more than one fall. Ann and Rudolf had to stop often to pick up Peter, for he was rather fat and his legs were too short to carry him along as fast as theirs did. The False Hare hurried ahead by leaps and bounds that would soon have carried him out of sight of his companions if he had not stopped now and then to wait for them. When the children caught up to him, they would find him sitting on his little dress-suit case, smoking a chocolate cigarette, and laughing at them.

"Oh, don't mention it," he would say when they apologized for keeping him waiting. "I don't mind. I like waiting for slow-pokes! It's nothing to me if I miss a dozen appointments and get driven out of the dream business by that old what's-his-name—Welsh Rabbit!"

This sort of talk was rather annoying, and after a while the children decided not to heed it any longer. Indeed they were all three tired with their climb, and were glad to sink down on the soft fuzzy grass and rest a while. The False Hare bounded ahead, calling back to them "Not to hurry", but when he found he could not tease them into following, he sauntered back to meet them, looking as cool and fresh and neat as when he started. Peter had been rather in the dumps ever since he had been refused a taste of the Lady Goose's dinner, and now he looked thoughtfully at the Hare's suit case.

"Has you got anything to eat in there?" he asked, his little face brightening.

"Gracious, yes," said the False Hare lightly. "Lemme see! What do little boys like best? Cinnamon buns an' chocolate cake an' butterscotch an' lemon pie an' soda-water an' gingerbread an' jujubes an' hokey-pokey an 'popcorn balls an'—" He might have gone on forever, but Ann and Rudolf would not stand any more of it. They rose angrily and dragging Peter after them, continued their climb. Just as they had almost reached the top of the hill, the False Hare bounded past them with a laughing salute and a wave of his paw, and dropped out of sight over the brink of the ridge. A moment more and they all stood on the edge of a cliff so steep that they were in danger of tumbling over. From beneath the Hare's voice called up to them, "Nobody ever thought of a sheet of water—oh, no!"

Before their eyes lay the last thing the children had expected to see, a large piece of water quite calm and smooth, without a sign of a sail on it, nor were there any bathers or children playing on the narrow strip of beach directly beneath them. At first it seemed as if it would be impossible for them to climb down the face of that steep cliff to the water, but the False Hare had done it, and they determined that they must manage it somehow. After looking about carefully, they found a set of rude steps cut in the side of the cliff. They were very far apart, to be sure, for climbers whose legs were not of the longest, but Rudolf helped Ann and Ann helped Peter and at last they were all safely down and standing beside the False Hare, who was strolling along the edge of the water.

"Hullo," said he, sticking his glass in his eye and looking at Ann. "What makes the whiskerless one so cheerful?"

Rudolf and Peter were not surprised when they turned to look at Ann to see that she was ready to cry.

"What's the matter, Ann?" they asked.

"Oh, dear, dear!" sighed Ann. "Whatever will become of us now? We can't go back. Even if we could climb up the cliff, I'd never pass that dreadful Goose's house again, no, not for anything! But how are we going to get any farther without a boat?"

The False Hare pretended to wipe away a tear with the back of his paw. "No boat," he groaned. "Oh, dear, dear, dear—no boat!"

The faces of the three children brightened immediately, for they were beginning to understand his ways. "Hurrah!" cried Rudolf, waving his sword.

Sure enough, coming round a bend in the shore where the bushes had hidden it from their sight, was a small boat rowed by two white candy mice.