cried out, a queer little cry like the cry of the doll that you punch in the stomach.
Then Bunnyboy's mother came bounding along the path toward him. She had almost passed by and missed him; but now, thanks to the wood Nymph who guards all the wood folks, she had found him.
When she saw how terribly he had been punished for his disobedience she did not scold him. He had learned his lesson. She would keep still and let it sink in. So she led him gently down to the brook. She did not lead him as one child leads another, but she went by his side and pushed him this way and that. When he was by the brookside, she made him plunge his face in the cool waters and then rub his nose and face in the mud until they were plastered. She also helped to smear his face with mud. She told him to keep his eyes shut and that tomorrow they would come to the brook and wash the mud off.
When she at last got Bunnyboy back to the burrow he was so muddy and his face so swollen that even his own brothers and sisters did
