The ducklings stared through their tears, and then they began to clap their wings and shout for joy. There, sailing quietly down the river, in her shawl and bonnet, her basket on her arm, came their own dear mother.
“Mother! Mother!” they shouted all together. “Here we are, mother! Come quick!”
The mother looked and stared and then came sailing over toward the bank. She could hardly believe her eyes.
“Why, children, whatever are you doing here?” she cried.
“Oh, we ran away from home, and we got lost, but if you’ll only take us back we’ll never be naughty disobedient little ducks again.”
They had indeed been very naughty to run away when their mother had told them not to, but they looked so frightened and sorrowful that she had not the heart to scold them.
“Well, well! We won’t talk about it now,” she said. “Perhaps you’ve been punished enough as it is by being so frightened. Slip down into the river and I’ll take you home this way.”
So the ducklings slid down into the water and sailed away at their mother’s side, and it was not long before they came within sight of their own dear home-landing and the hollow tree beyond. Then what thankful and happy little ducklings they were!
“Mother,” said Squdge solemnly, “I’m never, never going to be naughty again. I’m always going to do exactly what you tell me to do.”
And all the other little ducklings said the same.