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Updated: July 18, 2025
Meadows had come out of the house in time to hear this, and they laughed heartily. In fact, they all laughed except Mr. Thimblefinger and Drusilla. "It happens every day," said Mrs. Meadows. "We never notice it. I suppose if it happened up there where you children live, everybody would make a great to-do? I'm glad I don't live there where there's so much fussing and guessing going on.
Rabbit and Mrs. Meadows. This seemed to please Mr. Thimblefinger very much. He smiled and nodded approval. "Did they ever have you in a story?" asked Buster John. "No, no!" replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "I was so little they forgot me." He laughed at his own joke, but it was very plain that he didn't relish the idea of not having his name in a book.
"No, no," replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "Below the spring and below the branch." "Do you mean under the spring?" Sweetest Susan inquired, with some hesitation. "That's it," cried Mr. Thimblefinger. "Right down through the spring and under it." "Why, we'd drown," said Sweetest Susan. "The spring is deep." "Well, you'll ha' ter 'skuze me," exclaimed Drusilla. "Dat water's too wet fer me."
Thimblefinger was the smallest grown person they had ever seen, even if he were a grown person, nor could they forget that they had never seen a rabbit so wonderfully large as Mr. Rabbit. Drusilla expressed the feelings of all when she remarked that she felt "skittish." They were ready to take alarm at anything that might happen. Therefore they ran to the door to see what the shadow meant.
"Once when I was listening through a keyhole," said Mr. Thimblefinger, placing his tiny knife and fork crosswise on his plate, "I heard a story about a Talking-Saddle." "Tell it! tell it!" cried Buster John and Sweetest Susan. "I suppose you have no pie to-day?" said Mr. Rabbit. "Oh, yes," said Mrs. Meadows, "we'll have the pie and the story, too." Mr.
Then, for the first time, the children saw that the bottom of the spring had seemed to expand, until it spread over their heads and around on all sides as the sky does in our country. "Don't bother about that," said Mr. Thimblefinger. "No matter how big it looks, it's nothing but the bottom of the spring after all." "But how are we to get out, please?" asked Sweetest Susan.
I was just going to tell you a story, but if you really want to go I'll put off the telling of it until some of your grandchildren tumble in the spring when the wet water has run out and the dry water has taken its place." "Tell the story, please," said Buster John. "It's about a girl," remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. "She was called the Strawberry-Girl.
Thimblefinger smacked his lips and winked his eye in such comical fashion that the children laughed heartily, but they didn't forget the story. "I don't know that I can remember the best of it," said Mr. Thimblefinger. "The wind was blowing and the keyhole was trying to learn how to whistle, and I may have missed some of the story.
As the little man stood there holding his watch and looking at it intently, the dinner-bell rang, first in the hallway and then in the back porch. The children remembered it afterward. "You all better go git yo' dinner 'fo' it git col', stidder projeckin' 'roun' here wid you dunner what," remarked Drusilla. "Now!" exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger, "put your hand in the spring."
There was no denying this, and Sweetest Susan and her brother were beginning to feel anxious, when an exclamation from Mr. Thimblefinger attracted their attention. "We are nearly there," he shouted. "Yonder is the house. My! won't the family be surprised when they see you!" Sure enough there was the house, and it was not a small one, either.
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