“Oh, what a pretty rabbit!” said Charles.  “Giles, will you sell it to me?”

“No, Master Charles,” said Giles, “I cannot sell my pretty Snowball.”

“And why not?” asked Charles in a fretful tone.

“Because, Master Charles, the old doe, its mother, died when Snowball was only a week old, and I reared it by feeding it with warm milk and bran; and it is now so fond of me that I would not part with it for a great deal.”

So saying, he stroked his pretty favorite, who licked his hand all over, and rubbed her soft white head against his fingers.

Then Giles said:  “My dear Snowball, I would not sell you for the world.”

“But you shall sell Snowball to me,” said Charles, making one of his ugly faces.  “I will give you a shilling for her; and if you do not let me carry her home this very day, I will tell father of you, and he will turn you out of the cottage.”

When Giles’s mother heard Charles say so, she came out of the house, and said:  “Pray, Giles, let Master Charles have the rabbit.”

“Dear mother,” said Giles, “Master Charles has a pony and a dog, and a great many fine toys to play with, and I have only my pretty Snowball; and it will break my heart to part with her.”

“Then,” said his mother, “would you rather see your mother and sisters turned out of doors than part with your rabbit?  You know, Giles, that I had so many expenses with your poor father’s illness and death that I have not paid the rent due last quarter-day; and you know it is in our landlord’s power to turn us into the streets to-morrow.”

“Well, mother,” cried Giles, bursting into tears, “Master Charles must have the rabbit.  But oh!” continued he, “he does not love you as I do, my pretty Snowball; he will not feed and take care of you as I have done, and you will soon die, and I shall never see you again.”  And his tears fell fast on the white head of his little pet as he spoke.

Clara was quite grieved, and begged her naughty brother not to deprive poor Giles of his rabbit; but Charles was a wicked and covetous boy; he therefore took Snowball from Giles, and carried her home in his arms, and put her in a box.  He went into the fields and gathered some green herbs for her to eat, and said:  “I am glad I have got Snowball; now I shall be quite happy.”

But how could Charles be happy when he had broken God’s holy commandment, which says, “Thou shalt not covet?” Nurse and Clara told him so, and begged him to give Snowball back again to Giles.  But Charles said he would not, for he meant to keep her all his life; but the next morning, when he went into the stable to look at her, he found her stretched at the bottom of the box.  He called her, but Snowball did not stir; he then took her out of the box to see what ailed her; but she was quite cold and dead.

Oh dear! how Charles did cry!  But it was of no use.  He had better not have taken her away from Giles, for he did not know what to feed her with, and had given her among the greens he had gathered a herb called hemlock, which is poisonous and will kill whatever eats of it; and it had killed poor Snowball.