but you know, my lady, how vain
these husbands be. But he did tell me about they ducks, and I say
again I don't hold wi' mun. I reared my brood in the turf-pits and
taught mun to swim, and bringed them down the little streams where
they couldn't come to no harm till they was big enough to take care of
theirselves. And I don't hold with no other way, for I'm not a-going
to have my little ducks drownded."

"And is the river quiet?" asked the Hind; "and could we live in the
valley?"

"The valley's so quiet as a turf-pit, my lady," said the old Duck,
"beautiful great woods for miles down. Surely I've heard tell that
your family lived there years agone."

So they took leave of the Ducks, and going down into the strange
valley found it as she had said. The woods ran down by the little
river for miles; and though the valley left the moor far behind it,
yet there were fields of grass, and corn, and turnips, full of good
food whenever they might want it; so they decided to make themselves
very comfortable there for the whole summer.

CHAPTER VII

One day when they were out at feed our Pricket caught sight of a
little brown bird with a full dozen of little chicks cheeping all
round her; and as he was always anxious to make new friends he trotted
up to scrape acquaintance with the stranger. But what was his
astonishment when the little bird fluffed out her wings and flew at
him.

"You dare to touch mun," she said furiously, "you dare to touch mun,
and I'll peck out the eyes of 'ee."

"But, my dear soul," he said, "I won't do you any harm."

"Oh, beg your pardon," said the little bird, "I didn't see who it was,
and I made sure that it was one of they sheep-dogs. But I don't mind
ever to have seen one of you here; I thought you belonged farther down
the valley."

"But I come from the moor," he said.

"I ha'n't never been on the moor," said the little bird, "but there's
more of 'ee down the valley, at least I think there be, for, begging
your honour's pardon, I don't rightly know who you be. Do 'ee want to
know the way? Then follow down the river till you'm clear of the woods
and then turn up over the fields, till you see another wood, and that
will bring 'ee to the place where your friends be. And I beg your
honour's pardon for mistaking your honour for a sheep-dog, for I've
never seen the like of you before, but they sheep-dogs do worry us
poor Partridges terrible."

And she bustled away with her Chicks. But