Besides, they were too little to go outside of the Old Briar-patch
now. Indeed, they were too little to go outside their nursery, which was
in a clump of sweet-briar bushes in the very middle of the Old Briar-
patch, and Peter felt that there they were perfectly safe.
"It isn't time to worry yet," said Peter to little Mrs. Peter, as he saw
the fright in her eyes as the shadow of Redtail passed over them. "I
don't believe in borrowing trouble. Time enough to worry when there is
something to worry about, and that won't be until these little
scallawags of ours are big enough to run around and get into mischief.
Did you ever see such beautiful babies in all your life?"
For a minute the worried look left little Mrs. Peter, and she gazed at
the four little helpless babies fondly. "No," she replied softly, "I
never did. Oh, Peter, they are perfectly lovely! This one is the perfect
image of you, and I'm going to call him Little Pete. And don't you think
his brother looks like his grandfather? I think we'll call him Little
Jed."
Peter coughed behind his hand as if something had stuck in his throat.
He had no love for Little Jed's grandfather, Old Jed Thumper, the big,
gray, old Rabbit who had tried so hard to drive him from the Old
Pasture, but he didn't say anything. If Mrs. Peter wanted to name this
one Little Jed, he wouldn't say a word. Aloud he said:
"I think, my dear, that this one looks just as you must have looked when
you were little, and so we'll call her Fuzzy.
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