She sent them upstairs; and I am
sorry to say she told her friends that
they were in bed with the measles—
which was not true.
Quite the contrary; they were not in bed:
NOT in the least.
Somehow there were very extra—
ordinary noises overhead, which
disturbed the dignity and repose of
the tea party.
And I think that some day I shall
have to make another, larger book, to
tell you more about Tom Kitten!
As for the Puddle-ducks—they
went into a pond.
The clothes all came off directly,
because there were no buttons.
And Mr. Drake Puddle-duck, and
Jemima and Rebeccah, have been
looking for them ever since.
THE TALE OF JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK
[A Farmyard Tale for
Ralph and Betsy]
What a funny sight it is to see a
brood of ducklings with a hen!
Listen to the story of Jemima
Puddle-duck, who was annoyed
because the farmer's wife would not
let her hatch her own eggs.
Her sister-in-law, Mrs. Rebeccah
Puddle-duck, was perfectly willing to
leave the hatching to someone else—
"I have not the patience to sit on a
nest for twenty-eight days; and no
more have you, Jemima. You would
let them go cold; you know you
would!"
"I wish to hatch my own eggs; I will
hatch them all by myself," quacked
Jemima Puddle-duck.
She tried to hide her eggs; but they
were always found and carried off.
Jemima Puddle-duck became quite
desperate. She determined to make a
nest right away from the farm.
She set off on a fine spring
afternoon along the cart road that
leads over the hill.
She was wearing a shawl and a
poke bonnet.
When she reached the top of the
hill, she saw a wood in the distance.
She thought that it looked a safe
quiet spot.
Jemima Puddle-duck was not much
in the habit of flying. She ran downhill
a few yards flapping her shawl, and
then she jumped off into the air.
She flew beautifully when she had
got a good start.
She skimmed along over the
treetops until she saw an open place
in the middle of the wood, where the
trees and brushwood had been
cleared.
Jemima alighted rather heavily and
began to waddle about in search of a
convenient dry nesting place. She
rather fancied a tree stump amongst
some tall foxgloves.
But—seated upon the stump, she
was startled to find an elegantly
dressed gentleman reading a
newspaper. He had black prick ears
and sandy colored whiskers.
"Quack?" said Jemima Puddle-
duck, with her head and her bonnet
on the one side—"Quack?"
The gentleman raised his eyes
above his newspaper and looked
curiously at Jemima—
"Madam, have you lost your way?"
said he. He had a long bushy tail
which he was sitting upon, as the
stump was somewhat damp.
Jemima thought him mighty civil
and handsome. She explained that she
had not lost her way, but that she was
trying to find a convenient dry nesting
place.
"Ah! is that so? Indeed!" said the
gentleman with sandy whiskers,
looking curiously at Jemima. He
folded up the newspaper and put it in
his coattail pocket.
Jemima complained of the
superfluous hen.
"Indeed! How interesting! I wish I
could meet with that fowl. I would
teach it to mind its own business!
"But as to a nest—there is no
difficulty: I have a sackful of feathers
in my woodshed. No, my dear
madam, you will be in nobody's way.
You may sit there as long as you like,"
said the bushy long-tailed gentleman.
He led the way to a very retired,
dismal-looking house amongst the
foxgloves.
It was built of faggots and turf, and
there were two broken pails, one on
top of another, by way of a chimney.
"This is my summer residence; you
would not find my earth—my winter
house—so convenient," said the
hospitable gentleman.
There was a tumbledown shed at
the back of the house, made of old
soap boxes. The gentleman opened
the door and showed Jemima in.