Trouble fell on us. The little rabbit sat on our lap, unmoving, its eye wide and dark. We brought it milk, warm milk and held it to its nose. It sat as still as if it was faraway, retreated down some deep burrow, hidden, oblivious. We wetted its mouth and whiskers with drops of milk. It gave no sign, did not even shake off the wet white drops. Somebody began to shed a few secret tears. 'What did I say'? Cried my mother. 'Take it and put it down the field'. Her command was in vain. We were driven to get dressed for school. There sat the rabbit. It was like a tiny obscure cloud. Watching it the emotions died out of our breast. Useless to love it, to yearn over it. Its little feelings were all ambushed.
ADesire
BLoathe
CCrave
DWant
