Gertrude, arriving on the scene with a flying scuttle, beheld her hero paddling resolutely to land. How proud she was to see him face that big prize-fighter! But, determined that they should not come to blows, she rushed up behind Clarence and honked in his ear: "I laid those eggs, you blustering fool. Martha only sat on them. She would sit on anything."
"What—what's that?" asked the startled rooster.
"Martha would sit on anything," repeated the Amazon. "I can prove it.—Stand back, Eustace!—Here she comes now. I'll make her sit on that stone." She indicated a smooth white pebble that was somewhat oval in shape.
As she spoke, the forlorn hen drew near, followed by the ducklings. They trailed along after her like a train of guilt.
"Shameless creature!" muttered Clarence.
But she, keeping her eyes dejectedly on the ground, did not notice him, nor anyone else.
Gertrude stationed herself by the pebble. As Martha passed by, she said, in a tone of politeness, "Pardon me, but you dropped an egg."
Martha stopped. "Oh, did I?" she said gratefully. "Thank you, thank you for telling me. I'm so bewildered I hardly know what I'm doing—Ah, the poor little thing is all cold!" she added, sitting compassionately upon the pebble; while, unobserved by her, the ducklings tobogganed down the bank into the water.
Gertrude eyed the rooster witheringly. "Whom are you going to fight with about this egg?" she demanded.
"Well, I'll be fricasseed!" said Clarence. Then he turned to the drake. "Eustace, I apologize. And I don't mind saying that you have a remarkably clever wife."