scared,” said Buff, “it sounds so queer. Let’s run back and find mother.”

The ducklings jumped up, but before they could run away, around from the other side of the burdock came a great grey, feathery creature, with hard, bright eyes and a sharp beak. She was followed by a brood of little, downy, yellow young ones that seemed to be her children. As soon as the young ones saw the ducklings they stopped and stared at them wonderingly.

So the two fowls said good-bye to each other and parted

“Cluck! cluck!” cried the mother. “What have we here? Ducklings I do believe.” Then as Squdge seemed about to come toward her she ruffled her feathers angrily. “Don’t you come any nearer,” she cried, “if you do I’ll peck you. I don’t allow any strange animals to come near my children.”

The ducklings were quite frightened at her angry looks. They were about to turn and run away, when to their joy they saw their mother coming around a bend in the path.

As soon as Mother Duck saw a stranger talking to her children she hurried forward. Then when she came a little nearer she gave a quack of pleasure.

“Why, Mrs. Henny Penny!” she cried. “Is that you? Wherever did you come from?”

“Well I declare if it isn’t Mrs. Duck!” replied the hen. “I brought the children out for a walk, and we’ve come further than we expected. I’m sure I never thought I’d find you here.”

The two fowls were so pleased to see each other that they both began talking at once, asking questions, and givings answers, while the little ones listened wonderingly.

“I suppose you’re still living at the farm,” said the duck. “And these are your little ones, are they? What fine chicks they are.”

“You have some fine children, yourself,” answered the hen, much pleased. “How exactly they look like you.”

“They’re very good children, on the whole,” said the duck, “only sometimes they’re rather naughty, and I have to scold them a little. But how are all the things at the farmyard? The geese and the turkeys and the guinea-fowls? And old Mr. Tige? Is he alive still? My, my! What a cross dog he was.”

The hen said yes, he was. “He’s alive still, and crosser than ever. Why the other day old Mrs. Speckeldy Hen just happened to go too near his dog house, and he jumped right out at her and[63]
[64]
[65] pulled out a whole mouthful of tail feathers!”

“My!” cried the duck. “Wasn’t that awful? What did Mr. Rooster say?”

“Why he said—”

Just then the duck noticed that all the little ones were standing about and listening with open beaks.

“Now, children, I am going to market,” she said

“Now, children, don’t stand there listening,” she cried. “You know I don’t like you to listen when older creatures are talking. Run on down to the river, and take these nice little chicks along with you—only don’t go in till I come. Perhaps you might catch them a tadpole or so.”

“Yes, run along,” said the hen. “We’ll be along in a minute. Be sure you don’t get your feet wet, children.”

That seemed to the ducklings a funny thing for any one to say—“Don’t get your feet wet,”—but they and the chicks started off together, and ran