Miss Potter Page #3

solely because I am the youngest son.

No. I would like a properjob,

working for my family's firm

and they have assigned me you.

Does that make things clearer?

In other words,

you have no experience whatsoever,

but because you've made

a nuisance of yourself,

demanding a chance,

they've fobbed you off on me.

Miss Potter, I know all too well

what my brothers intended,

giving me your, your 'bunny book',

as they call it,

but I find your book quite

enchanting, delightful,

and if they intended to fob me off,

as you say, then we shall show them.

We shall give them a bunny book

to conjure with,

In colours, mixed to your

satisfaction in front of

your very eyes at the printer.

At the printer?

Oh, I could never.

I will escort you there myself.

If you will allow me the the honour.

Why would I never?

Of course I'll go.

I'm a grown woman.

Miss Wiggin will be there.

I see absolutely no reason why

an artist shouldn't visit her printer.

Excellent, Miss Potter.

Jolly good. Thank you.

I shall make all the arrangements,

and I am, in every way,

my dear lady, at your service.

You and rabbits, extraordinary.

Excuse me.

Johnson, come and get

the charms, would you?

- Slowly, slowly. Put it there.

- I will be careful, ma'am.

One, two, three... ten.

When I was ten, my mother badgered

my father into spending the summer

in the Lake District,

as did other fashionable families.

Like an animal released from its cage,

I fell under its spell.

Mind your frocks now.

Come here!

The woods are full of fairies

and little folk that look for

children that get their

clothes dirty.

And when they find them,

they send the fairy beasts at night,

with sharp teeth and a ready

appetite for young flesh.

- I'm coming to get you, Bea!

- No

Yes!

Bertram. Bertram!

Don't! They're farmers' children.

Their hands. Germs. Come on.

Bertram! Bertram!

Catch him, Bea!

There he is!

Oh, yes!

Out of the way!

There!

There he is.

I don't think a thrashing

will be necessary.

I'll just leave the window

in the nursery unlatched tonight.

The fairy beasts will

take care of the rest.

No! I'll stay clean!

Bertram.

Really, Beatrix, What young man

is ever going to marry a girl

with a faceful of mud?

Well, I shan't marry,

so it doesn't matter.

Of course you shall marry.

All girls marry. I did.

Your grandmother did.

Even Fiona will one day.

- Well, I shan't. I shall draw.

- Oh, those silly drawings.

Then who will love you?

My art and my animals.

I won't need more love than that.

Perhaps not at 11, but let's see

if you still feel the same way at 18.

I drew Mama when we first met

and she married me.

And, Fiona, doesn't mud wash off?

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