e of his beautiful wings were clipped, but he was
otherwise looking quite well, and he hastened to tell her that he was
happy, even in exile, to be with her again. And she believed him.

He had been captured in a very humiliating way, and this he made her
promise never to tell. He had swum so near the decoy-duck that his foot
had caught in its string, and before he could get away the farmer had
him fast. "And now," he quacked, "I'm glad I did it," and Quackalina
quacked, "So am I." And they were very happy.

[Illustration: "SIR SOOTY HIMSELF ACTUALLY WADDLED INTO THE FARM-YARD"]

Indeed, they grew so blissful after a while that they decided to try to
make the best of farm life and to settle down. So they began meandering
about on long waddles--or waddling about on long meanders--all over
the place, hunting for a cozy hiding-place for a nest. For five whole
days they hunted before Quackalina finally settled down into the hollow
that she declared was "just a fit" for her, under the edge of the old
shanty where the Pekin feathers were stored.

White, fluffy feathers are very beautiful things, and they are soft and
pleasant to our touch, but they are sad sights to ducks and geese, and
Quackalina selected a place for her nest where she could never see the
door open into this dread storehouse.

It was, indeed, very well hidden, and, as if to make it still more
secure, a friendly golden-rod sprang up quite in front of it, and a
growth of pepper-grass kindly closed in one side.

Quackalina had never been sent out on decoy duty, and after a time she
ceased to fear it, but sometimes Sir Sooty had to go, and his little
wife would feel very anxious until he came back.

There are some very sad parts in this little story, and we are coming to
one of them now.

The home-nest had been made. There were ten beautiful eggs in it--all
polished and shining like opals. And the early golden-rod that stood on
guard before it was sending out a first yellow spray when troubles began
to come.

CHAPTER II

Quackalina thought she had laid twice as many as ten eggs in the nest,
but she could not be quite sure, and neither could Sir Sooty, though he
thought so, too.

Very few poetic people are good at arithmetic, and even fine
mathematicians are said to forget how to count when they are in love.

Certain it is, however, that when Quackalina finally decided to be
satisfied to begin sitting, there were exactly ten eggs in the
nest--jus