To him he was always
beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He
didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic
had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.
And then, one day, the Boy was ill.
His face grew very flushed, and he talked in his sleep, and his little
body was so hot that it burned the Rabbit when he held him close.
Strange people came and went in the nursery, and a light burned all
night and through it all the little Velveteen Rabbit lay there, hidden
from sight under the bedclothes, and he never stirred, for he was
afraid that if they found him some one might take him away, and he
knew that the Boy needed him.
It was a long weary time, for the Boy was too ill to play, and the
little Rabbit found it rather dull with nothing to do all day long.
But he snuggled down patiently, and looked forward to the time when
the Boy should be well again, and they would go out in the garden
amongst the flowers and the butterflies and play splendid games in the
raspberry thicket like they used to.
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