"Yesterday it was sunshine here," said the little bird, "but to-day it's cloudy and the air is close."
"You don't know much about the weather, I fancy," retorted the Portuguese. "The day is not done yet. Don't stand there looking so stupid."
"But you are looking at me just as the wicked eyes looked when I fell into the yard yesterday."
"Impertinent creature!" exclaimed the Portuguese duck, "would you compare me with the cat, that beast of prey? There's not a drop of malicious blood in me. I've taken your part, and will teach you good manners."
And so saying, she bit off the singing bird's head, and he lay dead on the ground.
"Now, what's the meaning of this?" she said, "could he not bear even that? Then certainly he was not made for this world. I've been like a mother to him I know that, for I've a good heart."
Then the neighbour's cock stuck his head into the yard, and crowed with steam-engine power.
"You'll kill me with your crowing!" she cried. "It's all your fault. He's lost his head, and I am very near losing mine."
"There's not much lying where he fell!" observed the cock.
"Speak of him with respect," retorted the Portuguese duck, "for he had song, manners, and education. He was affectionate and soft, and that's as good in animals, as in your so-called human beings."