ried away out of the moor as
fast as he could. He ran on over field and meadow; there was a storm, so
that he had hard work to get away.

IV--IN THE PEASANT'S HUT

Towards evening the Duckling came to a peasant's poor little hut: it was
so tumbled down that it did not itself know on which side it should
fall; and that's why it stood up. The storm whistled around the Duckling
in such a way that he had to sit down to keep from blowing away; and the
wind blew worse and worse. Then he noticed that one of the hinges of the
door had given way, and the door hung so slanting that he could slip
through the crack into the room; and that is what he did.

Here lived an old woman, with her Cat and her Hen. And the Cat, whom she
called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr; he could even give out
sparks--but for that, one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Hen
had quite small, short legs, and therefore she was called Chickabiddy
Shortshanks; she laid good eggs, and the woman loved her as her
own child.

In the morning they noticed at once the strange Duckling, and the Cat
began to purr and the Hen to cluck.

"What's this?" said the woman, and looked all around; but she could not
see well, and therefore she thought the Duckling was a fat duck that had
strayed. "This is a rare prize!" she said. "Now I shall have duck's
eggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try that."

And so the Duckling was taken on trial for three weeks, but no eggs
came. And the Cat was master of the house, and the Hen was the lady, and
always said "We and the world!" for they thought they were half the
world, and by far the better half. It seemed to the Duckling that one
might have another mind, but the Hen would not allow it.

"Can you lay eggs?"

"No."

"Then will you hold your tongue!"

And the Cat said, "Can you curve your back, and purr, and give out
sparks?"

"No."

"Then you will please have no opinion of your own when sensible folks
are speaking!"

And the Duckling sat in a corner and was in low spirits; then he began
to think of the fresh air and the sunshine; and he was seized with such
a strange longing to swim on the water, that he could not help telling
the Hen of it.

"What are you thinking of?" cried the Hen. "You have nothing to do,
that's why you have these fancies. Lay eggs, or purr, and they will
pass over."

"But it is so charming to swim in the water," said the Duckling, "so
nice to feel it go over one's head, a