the wood. But she had gone too far to draw back … she could not admit to poverty in the presence of that dreadfully superior Mrs Hare.
‘I will have one box.’
Sam wrapped up a box for her in a cabbage leaf, tied it with a few strands of hay and sealed it with a drop of gum which he had stolen from the fir tree. It looked such a grand parcel that Mrs Rabbit felt it must be worth five shillings.
As Sam handed it to her, he said, ‘I suppose you understand how to undo this parcel?’
‘How to undo it?’ Mrs Rabbit blinked at him in bewilderment. She did not know what he meant.
‘You must not undo it in daylight,’ Sam said. ‘Otherwise, all the goodness goes out of the nichts. They must never be exposed to the sun.’
‘No,’ muttered Mrs Rabbit. ‘I quite understand.’
Poor thing. She did not understand at all. As she gathered up the parcel her brain was in a whirl. Nuts? Obviously not nuts … it didn’t make any difference if you exposed nuts to the sun. Nor, for that matter, nail-scissors or nightdresses. What could these nichts be? Perhaps they were some sort of photographic film? In which case, what would Mr Rabbit say when he learned that she had spent five whole shillings on a photographic film, considering that they were far too poor to afford a camera to fit it into?
She felt on the verge of tears. She wanted to go off, all by herself, and hide in the bracken till the darkness came and she could undo her box and see what it was that she had really bought. She was just about to hurry away when she caught Mrs Hare’s eye. For the first time in her life she thought that Mrs Hare looked embarrassed; she kept on biting her lower lip, and there was a nervous twitch to her tail. Was it possible, after all, that Mrs Hare had been bluffing, that she too did not know what nichts were? The thought made Mrs Rabbit feel much better. So instead of running off with her parcel, she hovered in the background pretending to examine some of the other goods on the shelves.
*
It was now Mrs Hare’s turn in the queue.
She strolled up to the counter, put down her bag, and sniffed haughtily.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Hare,’ said Sam. ‘May I have the pleasure of selling you some nichts?’
‘Thank you, no.’ Mrs Hare had not the least idea what nichts were but she was not going to show it. Nor was she going to be such a fool as Mrs Rabbit, and buy something she might not want.
‘I have already a large supply of nichts,’ she said. ‘At “The Burrows”.’
That was the name of Mrs Hare’s house. When Mrs Rabbit heard these words, she felt a little better. If Mrs Hare kept plenty of nichts at ‘The Burrows’ it must be all right. ‘The Burrows’ was a very superior residence.
Mrs Hare leaned forward over the counter. She pointed to some boxes done up in pale pink paper.
‘What is in those?’ she drawled.
‘Rien,’ replied Sam.
‘Rien?’ she repeated. And then … in the same drawling tones … ‘Is it pure rien?’
Sam nodded. ‘You will not find purer rien anywhere.’
Mrs Hare sniffed. This sniff was another sign of nerves.
‘You say that this is pure rien?’ repeated Mrs Hare.
She asked the question because she wanted to gain time.
‘Yes, madam. Nothing but rien. Absolute … complete … rien.’
Sam spread out the palms of his hands to prove what he was saying. And suddenly some instinct warned Mrs Hare to beware of him and his boxes. She could not explain what she felt; it was like one of those tremors of warning which came to her on some still summer afternoon when a tiny sound or a faint scent told her that Man was in the wood.
So she plucked up her courage, and drew herself up to her full height, and looked Sam straight in the eye.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I do not think I need any rien. It is one of those things which I can do without.’
*
So great was the success of The Shop in the Ford that 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
