She saw the long tears in Peter's coat,
made by the cruel claws of Hooty the Owl, and she saw the places where
her father, Old Jed Thumper, had pulled the hair out with his teeth. She
saw how thin and miserable Peter looked, and tears of pity filled the
soft, gentle eyes of little Miss Fuzzytail, for, you see, she had a very
tender heart.
"He's got a very nice face," thought Miss Fuzzytail, "and he certainly
was very polite, and I do love good manners. And Peter is such a nice
sounding name! It sounds so honest and good and true. Poor fellow! Poor
Peter Rabbit!" Here little Miss Fuzzytail wiped her eyes. "He looks so
miserable I do wish I could do something for him. I--I--oh, dear, I do
believe he is coming right over here! I guess I better be going. How he
limps!"
Once more the tears filled her soft, gentle eyes as she stole away,
making not the least little sound. When she was sure she was far enough
away to hurry without attracting Peter's attention, she began to run.
"I saw him talking to my old friend Tommy Tit the Chickadee, and I just
know that Tommy will tell me all about him," she thought, as she
scampered along certain private little paths of her own.
Just as she expected, she found Tommy Tit and his anxious little wife,
Phoebe, very busy hunting for food for six hungry little babies snugly
hidden in a hollow near the top of the old birch-stub. Tommy was too
busy to talk then, so little Miss Fuzzytail sat down under a friendly
bramble-bush to rest and wait, and while she waited, she carefully
washed her face and brushed her coat until it fairly shone.
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