“Dear me!” exclaimed Lady Love, the little rabbit’s pretty mother, “where is my bunny boy?” and the worried lady rabbit hopped out of the kitchen of the tiny white bungalow down to the edge of the Sunny Meadow. Shading her eyes with her paw, she looked up the old Cow Path to the Big Red Barn, but no little bunny boy could she see there or anywhere.

“Dear me!” she sighed again, “what has become of him. I hope Danny Fox isn’t chasing him in the Shady Forest.”

For some time she stood at the edge of the Old Bramble Patch, looking across the meadow, but at last she turned and hopped up the little path through the brambles to the tiny garden in the rear of her pretty white bungalow.

“I’ll pick some carrots and lettuce,” she said to herself. Filling her apron, she had hardly turned to hop into her neat little kitchen when, all of a sudden, just like that, quick as the wind that blows off your hat, over the Old Rail Fence jumped Danny Fox.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” she cried.

“My dear, my dear!” laughed Danny Fox, creeping toward her, “how sweet and tender you look!”

Poor little Lady Love dropped the carrots and lettuce and hopped toward the barn, but Wicked Danny Fox was too quick for her. Then she tried to hop over to the woodpile, but the nimble old beast again jumped in front of her.

“You’d better let me put you in my bag,” snarled the cruel beast. “If you don’t, I’ll bite off your left ear.”

“Please, oh, please, don’t touch me,” cried the frightened little bunny lady. “Oh, oh, oh.”

Just then a friendly bark sounded near, and the next minute over the fence came the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“Get out!” he shouted, and, picking up a stick of wood, he hit the old fox over the head.

“Ouch! ouch!” yelled that old robber, and away he sneaked, leaving Lady Love and the kind dog to pick up the carrots and lettuce leaves.

“Dear me,” thought the old fox, as he ran into the Shady Forest, “it grows worse every day. Some one always comes at the wrong time.”

Yes, indeed, this old robber hardly knew what to do. Every time he started out from his den in the rocky hillside, somebody would call over the wireless:

“Danny Fox is going hunting!”

After that warning, of course, everybody locked his front door and bolted his back door and pulled down the window shades.

“My dear,” he said, one dark gloomy night to Mrs. Fox, “maybe I can bring home a chicken—it’s dark enough to hide me.”

So off he started with a big empty bag over his shoulder. As he softly crept through the Shady Forest he saw a little twinkling star.

“Now, who’s that, I wonder?” he asked himself in a whisper. But, of course, as he didn’t know, he got no answer.

“I must be careful,” he thought, “it might be the Policeman Dog’s lantern.”

So the old robber fox hid behind a tree and waited. By and by, after a while, who should come along but a firefly. My, how her little lantern flickered and flared in the wind.

“Oh, ho!” said Danny Fox, “who’s afraid? I’m glad it’s not the Policeman Dog!”

The little firefly kept on her way, for, of course, she hadn’t heard Danny Fox thinking. As her little light had disappeared in the darkness the old robber came out of his hiding place.

Then off he started again for the henhouse.

By and by he reached the Old Barnyard. But just as he crept around the Big Red Barn, Old Sic’em, the farmer’s dog, looked out of his wooden house.

“Bow, wow!” he went, tugging at the chain which kept him home nights in his little bungalow, “wow.”

“Keep quiet, can’t you,” whined Danny Fox.

“Get out!” snarled Old Sic’em. “I’ll call the farmer.”

Just then who should hop by in the moonlight but Little Jack Rabbit on his way home.

“I guess I’ll catch that little bunny,” thought the old fox, sneaking around to the Big Red Barn.

“Now where is the old robber going?” the Weathercock asked himself, as he swung to and fro on his gilded toe.

He needn’t have asked that question, though, for just then he spied Little Jack Rabbit and a second later, Danny Fox.

“Dear, dear me!” thought the kind Weathercock, “I don’t want that wicked fox to catch that nice little bunny. What shall I do?”

All of a sudden he remembered the radio. On top of the Big Red Barn the Farmer’s Boy had fastened a set of wires which led down to his little room in the loft.

“Hello! hello!” shouted the Weathercock. “Danny Fox is after Little Jack Rabbit!”

The Farmer’s Boy must have heard him, for out of bed he jumped to call through the transmitter:

“Danny Fox is after Little Jack Rabbit! Danny Fox is out hunting!”

“Ha, ha!” exclaimed the Policeman Dog, as the message rang out in the Station House and, picking up his club, off he started for the Shady Forest.

Just then a soft voice whispered from the treetop:

“Danny Fox is close to the heels of Little Jack Rabbit.”

The dear little bunny was hopping down the forest trail happy as could be. He didn’t know that close behind was crafty Danny Fox. No, siree! He thought he was safe enough. Why, he never had a thought of danger.

“I’ll soon be home with Mother,” he said to himself when, all of a sudden—dear, dear! Will something dreadful happen?

“Now I’ll get you!” snarled Danny Fox.

“No, not yet!” barked the Policeman Dog, swinging his club. Whack! Down it came on the old fox’s head.

“Now, run!” shouted the Policeman Dog. And maybe Little Jack Rabbit didn’t go! Why, he went so fast that he left his shadow a mile behind him!

Then back to the Station House trotted the Policeman Dog, leaving the sly fox to get home as best he could.

In a few minutes the little bunny was safe in the dear Old Bramble Patch.

“Mother dear,” he said the next morning, “can’t I have a radio outfit for my very own?”

“Call up the Three-in-One-Cent Store and find out what it will cost,” she answered.

It took the little rabbit bunny boy just a minute or three to call up

“Who’s Little Me?” asked a voice. Then, of course the little rabbit had to explain who he was, whether it looked like rain, and why the clover tops were not so red as last year. You see, the person in the Three-in-One-Cent Store was a very curious person, always trying to find out what was going on in the Shady Forest and the Sunny Meadow. Maybe he had once been a country boy rabbit before going into business at Rabbitville, U. S. A.

By and by he figured out what the cost of a radio outfit would be.

“When do you want it installed?” he asked, which means, set up.

“Wait till I ask mother,” answered the little bunny, hopping into the kitchen where the pretty lady bunny was making carrot cake and lollypop stew for supper.

“Dear, dear me!” she exclaimed, on learning that it would cost 230 carrot cents. “You’d better call up your Uncle Lucky. He’s rich enough to put in a dozen. Maybe he’ll order one for you. I wish I had the money,” and sweet Lady Love picked up her little boy rabbit and kissed him three times, once on the left cheek, twice on the right cheek and, last and best, on the mouth. “There now, run along.”

So away he hopped back to the receiver to tell the rabbit clerk at the Three-in-One-Cent Store that unless Uncle Lucky supplied the money there’d be no radio at the little white bungalow in the Old Bramble Patch.

“Too bad, and yet not so worse. Your Uncle Lucky is so fond of you that he might buy you a little Luckymobile some day, pretty soon,” answered the clerk.

After saying good-by, Little Jack Rabbit asked Central to give him:

In a moment Uncle Lucky shouted: “Hello, hello! Who’s calling me?”

“Little Jack Rabbit,” answered the bunny boy, quick as a wink. “I want a radio set, but I haven’t enough money. All the other little boys are going to get one.”

“I don’t care if the radio set costs a million carrot cents,” shouted dear Uncle Lucky over the telephone when the bunny salesman at the Three-in-One-Cent Store suggested that a radio outfit was rather expensive. “Nothing is too good for my little nephew. Put it in right away so that he can listen to David Cory’s stories.”

“All right, Mr. Lucky Lefthindfoot,” respectfully answered the Three-in-One-Cent Store salesman, hanging up the receiver.

“This afternoon I’ll motor over to the Old Bramble Patch,” said the old gentleman rabbit to himself, sitting down in his comfortable armchair to read the Bunnybridge Bugle. After luncheon he hopped out to the garage and, telling the Old Red Rooster to weed the lettuce patch, set out for Little Jack Rabbit’s bungalow.

“Dear me! He had gone only a little way, not so very far, when something went wrong with the Luckymobile. Dear me! again. By the time it was mended, Mr. Happy Sun was nearly ready for bed. At last, however, dear Uncle Lucky arrived at the Old Bramble Patch, with his old wedding stovepipe hat and blue silk polkadot handkerchief. Honking the horn maybe a million times, less or more, he hopped out and into the little kitchen where Lady Love and her bunny boy were eating supper.

“Have you got any clover top pie?” asked the old gentleman rabbit, hanging up his old wedding stovepipe hat.

Of course Lady Love had. She had everything that was good to eat, you may be sure.

As soon as the supper dishes were cleared away, the three little rabbits hopped into the sitting room to hear the victrola sing:

“Ha, ha!” laughed Uncle Lucky, and he told a funny story of a crab who, by walking backwards into an orchard, made all the trees bear crab apples, which so provoked the farmer that he boiled the crab and ate him for supper.

By and by the little cuckoo began to sing from her little clock house: “Time for bed, time for bed!” At once the three little rabbits hopped upstairs, first blowing out all the electric lights so that Hungry Hawk, who is always looking for little mice and rabbits, wouldn’t be able to see the little white bungalow.

And when everything was quiet a tiny fly asked Little Miss Cricket:

“Is there any cheese in Lady Love’s cupboard?”

But the little cricket wouldn’t tell where Lady Love kept all her good things and neither would I and neither would the canary bird who was sound asleep with her head under her wing.

The next morning, bright and early, Uncle Lucky shouted over the ’phone: “Is this the Three-in-One Cent Store? Don’t forget to put in Little Jack Rabbit’s radio apparatus?”

“We’ll have it installed to-day—don’t worry.”

“Let’s invite all our friends over to-night,” said Uncle Lucky, turning to Little Jack Rabbit.

In less than five hundred short seconds the two little bunnies were speeding away. Pretty soon they saw Squirrel Nutcracker on the doorstep of his Chestnut Tree House.

“Come over to-night and listen in over our new radio,” shouted the bunny boy.

“I’ll be there, thank you!” replied the old squirrel.

Next, Busy Beaver said he’d come; also Sammy Skunk and the Big Brown Bear. Then Uncle Lucky stopped at the Old Duck Pond to invite Granddaddy Bullfrog and Taddy Tadpole.

“What’s all the noise about?” asked pretty Mrs. Oriole from her stocking-like nest on the Old Willow Tree.

“Come over to my radio party to-night,” answered Little Jack Rabbit, as he drove over to the Barnyard.

“I’ll come,” crowed Cocky Doodle.

“I’ll be there,” said Goosey Lucy.

“I won’t be a second late,” promised Turkey Tim.

shouted all the Barnyard Folk.

“Ha! ha!” laughed Little Jack Rabbit, “won’t we have a dandy radio party?”