When he found what was going on, he shook his head till his long black cue danced over his shoulders.
“No so!” he cried. “No so! Lil duckee no slim-ee!” (Little ducks mustn’t swim.)
“Why not?” said John. “See how easy they go.”
But Quon Wo still shook his cue. He thought they ought not to swim yet without a mother-duck who would know how to oil their feathers for them. The stepmother hen could not do this. “Wait till they are a month old before they swim,” was the advice of Quon Wo.
“Well, if you’re going to be so fussy about it, Quon Wo, I’ll take ’em out,” said John.
And he did. So the fun was all spoiled; at least for this time.
John, Vendla, and the children went into the house. Vendla put on her sweeping-cap, and began to sweep the chambers, while Jimmy and Lucy strayed off to the kitchen.
On the long table against the kitchen wall stood an elegant china fruit-dish which Vendla had brought out from the parlor to wash.
“Pretty dish,” said Lucy, fingering the edges lovingly.
“Let that alone, or you’ll break it,” said Jimmy, in the tone of command he often used when speaking to his little sister.