the
hinges having given way. There was, therefore, a narrow opening near the
bottom large enough for him to slip through, which he did very quietly,
and got a shelter for the night. Here, in this cottage, lived a woman, a
cat, and a hen. The cat, whom his mistress called "My little son," was a
great favorite; he could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw
out sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen had
very short legs, so she was called "Chickie Short-legs." She laid good
eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had been her own child. In
the morning the strange visitor was discovered; the cat began to purr
and the hen to cluck.

"What is that noise about?" said the old woman, looking around the room.
But her sight was not very good; therefore when she saw the duckling she
thought it must be a fat duck that had strayed from home. "Oh, what a
prize!" she exclaimed. "I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have
some ducks' eggs. I must wait and see."

So the duckling was allowed to remain on trial for three weeks; but
there were no eggs.

Now the cat was the master of the house, and the hen was the mistress;
and they always said, "We and the world," for they believed themselves
to be half the world, and by far the better half, too. The duckling
thought that others might hold a different opinion on the subject, but
the hen would not listen to such doubts.

"Can you lay eggs?" she asked. "No." "Then have the goodness to cease
talking." "Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks?" said
the cat. "No." "Then you have no right to express an opinion when
sensible people are speaking." So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling
very low-spirited; but when the sunshine and the fresh air came into the
room through the open door, he began to feel such a great longing for a
swim that he could not help speaking of it.

"What an absurd idea!" said the hen. "You have nothing else to do;
therefore you have foolish fancies. If you could purr or lay eggs, they
would pass away."

"But it is so delightful to swim about on the water," said the duckling,
"and so refreshing to feel it close over your head while you dive down
to the bottom."

"Delightful, indeed! it must be a queer sort of pleasure," said the hen.
"Why, you must be crazy! Ask the cat--he is the cleverest animal I know;
ask him how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under
it, for I will not speak of my own o