(I d' 'no' 's she's
had one for twenty!" he added in parenthesis; "_I_ never seed her with
one to my knowledge.) Wal, the gals was pesterin' her, an' sayin' she
didn't look fit to go to meetin' in the old bunnit, so 't last she giv'
way, and went an' bought a new one. 'Twas one o' these newfangled
shapes. What was it Lizy called it? Somethin' Chinese, I reckon. Fan
Song! That was it!"
"Fanchon, wasn't it, perhaps?" asked Hilda, much amused.
"That's what I said, warn't it?" said the farmer. "Fan Song, Fan
Chong,--wal, what's the odds? 'Twas a queer lookin' thing, anyhow, I
sh'd think, even afore it-- Wal, I'm comin' to that. Sary showed it to
the gals, and they liked it fust-rate; then she laid it on the kitchen
table, an' went upstairs to git some ribbons an' stuff to put on it.
She rummaged round consid'able upstairs, an' when she kum down, lo and
behold, the bunnit was gone! Wal, Sary hunted high, and she hunted low.
She called the gals, thinkin' they'd played a trick on her, an' hidden
it for fun. But they hadn't, an' they all set to an' sarched the house
from garrit to cellar; but they didn't find hide nor hair o' that
bunnit. At last Sary give it up, an' sot down out o' breath, an' mad
enough to eat somebody. 'It's been stole!' says she. 'Some ornery
critter kem along while I was upstairs,' says she, 'an' seed it lyin'
thar on the table, an' kerried it off!' says she. 'I'd like to get hold
of her!' says she; 'I guess she wouldn't steal no more bunnits for _one_
while!' says she.
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