THERE was once a little yellowy-brown rabbit, who was so proud that there was no bearing him. He ran away from home and went to live with some strange rabbits. “I have a right to be proud,” he said, “because my parents are Belgian hares.” But he looked so exactly like the other rabbits that no one believed him, and they turned him out for boasting.

So he went to live in the cucumber-frame, and as the gardener did not notice him he had rather a good time of it. But presently the cucumbers were all over, and then the gardener shut up the frame and went away. And then the bunny grew hungrier and hungrier, and he cried aloud, but no one would help him. “It serves him right for being so proud,” said the other rabbits.

But his mother, who lived quite on the other side of the field, heard him cry, and she came jumping on to the cucumber-frame with such a bounce that she broke the glass and tumbled in. “Come home this minute,” she said. “I’ll teach you to run away from home.”

As she took him past the strange rabbits they all called out: “Hullo, Stuck-up, where are you off to?”

“He’s going home to his father and mother,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“But he said his father and mother were Belgian hares.”

“Belgian fiddlesticks!” said his mother. “I’ll teach him to be ashamed of his family!” So she took him home by the ear. He’s quite a different bunny now, and works hard to support his old father and mother, as all good rabbits should.

E. Nesbit.