He wanted to hop
over to the big fern and peep behind it, but he didn't dare to. He was
afraid that whoever was hiding there would run away.
"I'm very lonesome; won't you speak to me?" said Peter, in his gentlest
voice, and he sighed a deep, doleful sort of sigh. Still there was no
reply. Peter had just about made up his mind that he would go over to
the big fern when he saw those two soft, gentle eyes peeping from under
a different leaf. It seemed to Peter that never in all his life had he
seen such beautiful eyes. They looked so shy and bashful that Peter held
his breath for fear that he would frighten them away.
After a time the eyes disappeared. Then Peter saw a little movement
among the ferns, and he knew that whoever was there was stealing away.
He wanted to follow, but something down inside him warned him that It
was best to sit still. So Peter sat just where he was and kept perfectly
still for the longest time.
But the eyes didn't appear again, and at last he felt sure that whoever
they belonged to had really gone away. Then he sighed another great
sigh, for suddenly he felt more lonesome than ever. He hopped over to
the big fern and looked behind it. There in the soft earth was a
footprint, the footprint of a Rabbit, and it was SMALLER than his own.
It seemed to Peter that it was the most wonderful little footprint he
ever had seen.
"I believe," said Peter right out loud, "that I'll change my mind. I
won't go back to the dear Old Briar-patch just yet, after all.
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