Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 2 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 773 pages of information about Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 2.

Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 2 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 773 pages of information about Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 2.

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, and to dive down to the bottom!”

“Yes, that’s a fine thing, truly,” said the Hen.  “You are clean gone crazy.  Ask the Cat about it,—­he’s the cleverest thing I know,—­ask him if he likes to swim in the water, or to dive down:  I won’t speak about myself.  Ask our mistress herself, the old woman; no one in the world knows more than she.  Do you think she wants to swim, and let the water close above her head?”

“You don’t understand me,” said the Duckling.

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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 2 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.