“What can it all be for?” she said to herself. “Even that man didn’t seem to know all about it. There goes my tail again! Really, it wags almost without one’s knowing it. There can’t be any harm in it, I should think, as father and mother are doing it too. But why do we all do it? I don’t see any use in it. There it goes again, before I ever thought of holding it still. I must really go and ask mother about it.”
She flew up to her mother, who was in a very happy and contented frame of mind, having brought up her young so prosperously in the midst of plenty and comfort.
“Mother,” she said, “will you please tell me why we all wag our tails?”
The prudent mother was rather taken aback; but after taking a little run and flight, to collect her mind, she returned answer very decidedly,
“We don’t wag our tails. Who’s been putting such fancies into your head?”
“A big man on the other side of the lawn said he should like to know why we wag our tails!”
“Men are blockheads,” said the mother. “Don’t you go near them, Kelpie, on any account. They know nothing about us. I tell you we don’t wag our tails, and I won’t be contradicted. Go away, child, and look for beetles.”
Kelpie went away, but she could not throw herself into the beetle-catching with the same ardour as before. Whenever she looked up she saw some one’s tail moving, and she got more and more puzzled over it. At one moment she thought she was rid of the puzzle: “Mother says we don’t,” she reflected, “so of course, at least I suppose, it’s all my fancy;” and she began to search for food. But the next minute she felt that her own tail was going up and down, and back came all the puzzling thoughts as lively as ever again. At last she lost all confidence in her mother, and resolved to ask her father’s opinion.
“What does my little Kelpie want?” said he, as the young one came flying up.
“I want to ask a question, father. Mother says we don’t wag our tails, but a man I heard talking said we did. Which do you think is right?”