"I can't catch these horrid midges," said the second.
"Boo-hoo!... Boo-hoo!... The dragon-fly flew away from me!" said the third.
"I daren't take hold of the daddy-long-legs," said the fourth.
But the fifth said nothing, for he was a poor little beggar, who always hung his beak.
"We'll never make a proper reed-warbler of him," said the father.
And, when they were being drilled in flying and hopping and scrambling in the reeds, or examined in singing, the fifth was always behind the rest.
"We shall never be able to drag him with us to Italy," said the reed-warbler.
And little Mrs. Reed-Warbler sighed.
In the water below, the duck splashed about with her grown-up ducklings.
"The end is near," she said. "I am sure of it. I have a horrid presentiment all over my body."