DUCKLINGS

WELL, you will certainly agree with me that the old bullfrog, in the
last story, is a wonderful fellow when you hear what he says about Mrs.
Duck, and, it is all in poetry, too.

"Old Mother Duck has hatched a brood
Of ducklings, small and callow;
Their little wings are short, their down
Is mottled gray and yellow."

"There is a quiet little stream,
That runs into the moat,
Where tall green sedges spread their leaves
And water lilies float."

"Close by the margin of the brook
The old duck made her nest,
Of straw, and leaves, and withered grass,
And down from her own breast."

"And there she sat for four long weeks,
In rainy days and fine,
Until the ducklings all came out--
Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine."

"So this is your home," said Puss, Junior, as Mrs. Duck stepped into her
nest, followed by her brood.

"One peeped out from beneath her wing,
One scrambled on her back;
"That's very rude," said old Mrs. Duck;
"Get off! quack, quack, quack, quack!"

"What do you do when it rains?" asked Puss, Junior.

"What do we do when it rains?" repeated Mrs. Duck, "why, what do you
suppose a duck's feathers are good for? They shed the water as well as a
barn roof. Yes, even better, for feathers are water-proof and shingles
are not."

[Illustration]

"Well, my good Mrs. Duck, of course it's all right for you and your
family, but should it rain, what would I do? I couldn't possibly crawl
under your wings."

"Not very well," laughed Mrs. Duck.

"But it's not going to rain," cried one little duck, peering out from
between her feathers. "I know it's not going to rain, for there isn't a
cloud in the sky."

Then all the little ducklings poked their heads out and cried, "It's not
going to rain, it's not going to rain!"

"If it should, and there's no telling lately, for the weather has been
so unsettled, I could take you up to the barnyard and introduce you to
Molly Head," said Mrs. Duck, turning to Puss, Junior. "She has charge of
all the poultry and is a very kind woman, very kind indeed."

"If I knew where to buy an umbrella," said Puss, after a pause, "I
wouldn't mind a little shower, but you know how a cat hates to get wet."

"Yes, they make as much fuss ove