|PETER RABBIT! Peter Rabbit! I don't see what Mother Nature ever gave
me such a common sounding name as that for. People laugh at me, but if I
had a fine sounding name they wouldn't laugh. Some folks say that a name
doesn't amount to anything, but it does. If I should do some wonderful
thing, nobody would think anything of it. No, Sir, nobody would think
anything of it at all just because--why just because it was done by
Peter Rabbit."
Peter was talking out loud, but he was talking to himself. He sat in the
dear Old Briar-patch with an ugly scowl on his usually happy face. The
sun was shining, the Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind were
dancing over the Green Meadows, the birds were singing, and happiness,
the glad, joyous happiness of springtime, was everywhere but in Peter
Rabbit's heart. There there seeded to be no room for anything but
discontent. And such foolish discontent--discontent with his name! And
yet, do you know, there are lots of people just as foolish as Peter
Rabbit.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
The voice made Peter Rabbit jump and turn around hastily. There was
Jimmy Skunk poking his head in at the opening of one of Peter's private
little paths. He was grinning, and Peter knew by that grin that Jimmy
had heard what he had said. Peter didn't know what to say. He hung his
head in a very shame-faced way.
"You've got something to learn," said Jimmy Skunk.
"What is it?" asked Peter.
"It's just this," replied Jimmy.
"There's nothing in a name except
Just what we choose to make it.