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It was the Girabbit's head! Mr. B. had gone off and forgotten to feed it, so it had burst open the back-door, squeezed in finally into the dining-room, and eaten its way through the ceiling into the best bedroom - and through the next ceiling into the attic, and up the attic chimney, knocking off the pots. There he was blinking in the morning sun with a large piece of the best-bedroom hearthrug in his mouth. This will give you some idea of what Mr. Bliss saw when he got inside. Though he had had the Girabbit for some years, he was very surprised. He did not know that its neck was quite so telescopic. Mr. Bliss was also really and truly angry; but the Girabbit would not come down again, not though Mr. B. pulled hard at his tail in the dining-room. All he would do was to keep on saying "It's going to be a wet day! - leave me alone!" Mr. B. was so tired that he left it alone, changed his clothes, took some food on the lawn, and had a kind of breakfast-lunch (or brunch). Then he fell fast asleep, under a tree, and forgot even to dream. Just after eleven he was waked up by the Girabbit speaking. "There's a powerful lot of people coming up the hill, Mr. Bliss," said he. "I can hear Sergeant Boffin's voice, and Binks's, and the voices of those Dorkinses you had to tea last Tuesday; and other folk; and bears growling." |
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