“Squealer and Squawker both went into the heap that time, I guess,” said Rudolf.

“I’m glad of it!” Ann cried. “I’d never help either of the horrid little things out again.  Would you, sir?” she asked, turning politely to the Hare.

“I dare say not,” he answered, yawning.  “That is, of course, unless I had particularly promised not to.  In that case I suppose I’d have to.”

All three children looked very much puzzled.

“Would you mind telling us,” asked Ann timidly, “what you meant when you said this”—­and she touched her hair—­“was not your business?”

“Not at all,” said the Hare cheerfully.  “I meant that it was.”

“But you said—­”

“Oh, what I said was, of course, untrue.”

“Do you mean you tell stories?” Ann looked very much shocked, and so did the others.

“Certainly,” said the Hare, “that’s my business, I’m a False Hare, you know.  Oh, dear, yes, I tell heaps and heaps of stories, as many as I possibly can, only sometimes I forget and then something true will slip out of me.  Oh, it’s a hard life, it is, to be thoroughly untruthful every single day from the time you get up in the morning till the time you go to bed at night—­round and round the clock, you know!  No eight-hour day for me.  Ah, it’s a sad, sad life!” He sighed very mournfully, at the same time winking at Rudolf in such a funny way that the boy burst out laughing.  “Take warning by me, young man,” he continued solemnly, “and inquire very, very carefully concerning whatever business you go into.  If I had known what the life of a False Hare really was, I doubt if I should have ever—­But, dear me, this will never do—­you’re getting me into mischief!  I’ve hardly done so much as a fib since we met.”

“Oh, you mustn’t mind us,” said Rudolf, trying hard not to laugh, as he and Ann and Peter marched along beside the False Hare.  “You mustn’t let us interfere with your—­your business, you know.  We sha’n’t mind, at least we’ll try not to.  Whatever you say we’ll believe just the opposite.  It’ll be as if he were a kind of game,” he added to Ann who was still looking very doubtful.  She looked happier at once, for Ann was quick at games and knew it.

“I think,” said she to the False Hare, “that I heard something about you the other day—­at least I suppose it must have been you.  It was at a tea-party given by a friend of mine,”—­here Ann put on her most grown-up manner and made her voice sound as much like her mother’s as possible—­“a Mrs. Mackenzie who lives in the city.  One lady said to another lady, ‘How fashionable false hair is getting!’”

The False Hare stroked his whiskers to hide a pleased smile.  “Bless me,” said he, “I should think so!  Keeps a fellow on the jump, I can tell you—­this social whirl.  And then, when bedtime comes along and a chap ought to get a bit of rest after a day’s hard fibbing, why then—­there’s the dream business.  I can’t neglect that.”