The Tree that Sat Down. Beverley Nichols

dusk was falling before the animals reluctantly tore themselves away, and wandered back to their homes, bearing their parcels with them. After his experience with Mrs Hare, Sam had decided not to sell any more boxes of Nothing; it was too risky; some of the animals might talk, and then they would not come to the shop any more.

      Meanwhile Mrs Rabbit, instead of going home, had scampered off to a quiet place to wait till darkness came, so that she might undo her parcel and see what was inside it. She did not dare to undo it in the presence of the family in case the ‘nichts’ was something which none of them wanted.

      Never had night seemed so long in coming. There had been a beautiful sunset, but though it had faded, a few gleams of gold still lingered in the sky. Surely it was dark enough now? The outlines of the trees had merged into the night; even the white wings of Mr Justice Owl were invisible, as he soared overhead with a melancholy ‘too-wit too-woe’.

      Now!

      Mrs Rabbit stretched out her paw and with trembling fingers she untied the ribbon. She rolled it up carefully and placed it on the grass beside her. Next she removed the brightly-coloured paper, folded it up, and sat on it to make sure that it did not blow away. And at last, holding her breath, very slowly, very gently, she lifted the lid and peered inside.

      She could see nothing, even though her eyes were made to see in what we would call ‘darkness’.

      Perhaps it was very small – perhaps it was a jewel, a diamond or ruby? She put her paw inside the box and felt round the edges. She could feel nothing. Round and round moved her paw; it could find nothing. She lifted the box and sniffed it; there was no smell but the smell of paper; she turned it upside down and listened; there was no sound of anything dropping out, not even the faintest whisper. The box was empty.

      Heavy at heart, and trembling with worry and disappointment, Mrs Rabbit put down the box and stared into the darkness. Big tears came to her eyes, but she did not notice them; they fell unheeded over the coloured paper on which she was sitting. Far, far away in the distance the faintest gleam of light still lingered; it was like a single golden thread in a coverlet of deep black velvet; and as Mrs Rabbit watched it she told herself that this was the cause of all her trouble, this little thread of light. Sam had said ‘wait till complete darkness’; she had not waited, she had been too eager.

      How could she face the family? As she thought of the family the tears flowed faster. They would all be waiting for her; Mr Rabbit would be running backwards and forwards to the front door, pushing out his nose and sniffing anxiously; and the children would be twitching their tails and asking when she was coming back with their presents. Presents! A piece of coloured paper and an empty box! It was too much to bear. Mrs Rabbit buried her face in her paws and sobbed out loud.

      *

      Now it so happened that Judy was walking home through the very field where Mrs Rabbit was sitting, and Judy had been trained to hear all the cries of animals in sorrow. She knew, for instance, that there are times when even dragonflies are depressed, when they feel that there is no point in flitting from flower to flower, and that the only thing to do is to sink on to a cool cabbage-leaf and cry.

      So when Judy drew near to Mrs Rabbit, she naturally heard her crying, though most humans would have heard nothing at all, and she tiptoed across and whispered to her, very softly.

      ‘Mrs Rabbit, what is the matter?’

      Instantly, Mrs Rabbit stopped crying. Her body stiffened, her ears snapped back flat on her head, her paws were rigid. This was a Human. And Humans had only one idea, to hunt and to kill.

      ‘Don’t be silly, Mrs Rabbit.’ Judy’s voice was very gentle. ‘It’s me. Judy.’

      Mrs Rabbit breathed a long sigh of relief. She looked up and blinked through her tears.

      ‘I am so unhappy, Miss Judy.’

      ‘Tell me.’

      So Mrs Rabbit told her all about going to the shop and buying the box from Sam.

      ‘But what did he say was in it?’ asked Judy.

      ‘Nichts.’

      ‘Nichts?’ Judy’s brow puckered. ‘But that is nothing.’

      ‘How can nichts be nothing?’

      ‘I mean, it is nothing in Germany.’

      Mrs Rabbit sniffed. ‘It may be nothing in Germany, but I do not see why it should not be something here.’ She was feeling better now, and was inclined to be argumentative.

      ‘What I mean is …’ began Judy.

      Mrs Rabbit interrupted her. ‘I might be nothing in Germany myself. In fact, I probably should be nothing … nobody at all. Most of my relations are in Australia.’

      ‘Besides,’ she went on, ‘there were other boxes that I might have bought. Boxes full of rien. I suppose you will say that is nothing too.’

      ‘Of course it is,’ said Judy. ‘It is nothing in France.’

      Mrs Rabbit patted her paw nervously on the ground. She was beginning to feel impatient. ‘We do not seem to be getting very much further,’ she observed.

      ‘Wait a minute!’ There was a note of excitement in Judy’s voice. ‘I believe I’m beginning to understand. You see …’

      However, Mrs Rabbit was still so nervous and upset that she did not listen. ‘All this talk about France and Germany … where does it get us?’ She took up the scrap of coloured paper, sniffed it, and threw it away again. ‘You say that nichts is nothing in Germany. But from what I have heard about that country, things that are nothing in Germany are often something in other countries. Even … even Scraps of Paper.’ She sniffed, very rapidly. ‘I read that in a history book.’

      ‘You are quite right. And you are a very clever rabbit.’ Judy put her hand gently on Mrs Rabbit’s paw. She felt the sympathy returning between them; the paw was soft and yielding, and answered to the pressure of her fingers. ‘But dear Mrs Rabbit, you must listen a minute. I have something very serious to tell you. And something very … very bad.’

      Whereupon she proceeded to explain.

      When Mrs Rabbit at last understood, and had learned the full extent of Sam’s wickedness, her first impulse was to rush violently through the wood, stamping her feet in the secret S O S which summons all the rabbits from their burrows in time of danger and crisis. But she soon realized that this would be a mistake. She would never have the courage to tell them what a fool she had been. Besides, what could they do? If Sam was so wicked that he would cheat animals, he might be so wicked that he would kill them too; he might even have a gun.

      ‘What can any of us do?’ she moaned.

      Judy knew what she herself could do. Underneath her blouse she wore a silver locket. She was very fond of it, and it was the only piece of jewellery she had ever possessed. But Mrs Rabbit’s need was greater than her own, so with a little sigh, for she really was very fond of it, she unfastened it, and hung it round Mrs Rabbit’s neck.

      ‘Oh, I couldn’t take it,’ breathed Mrs Rabbit, staring in wonder at the locket.

      ‘Yes, you could,’ said Judy. ‘And you can say that it was what you found in the box. Look, we will actually put it in the box for a minute, and then you will not be telling a lie.’

      ‘But … but it’s so beautiful.’

      And indeed, in the light of the rising moon, it sparkled like frost.

      ‘It is rather pretty,’ agreed Judy. ‘So you’d better hurry home with it at once before I change my mind.’

      Mrs Rabbit jumped up and down, giving little furry kisses to Judy’s hand. Then with a final ‘Thank you – oh, thank you!’ she gathered up the box and the paper and ran into the night.

      Judy watched Mrs Rabbit’s tail bobbing through the long grass till it was finally