"But I can talk," said the Portuguese duck. "I'll do something for the little fellow; it's my duty." So she stepped into the watering trough and beat her wings upon the water so strongly that the little bird was nearly drowned. But the duck meant it kindly. "That is a good deed," she said; "I hope the others will take example from it."
"Tweet, tweet!" said the little bird. One of his wings was broken and he found it difficult to shake himself, but he quite understood that the bath was meant kindly, so he said, "You are very kind-hearted, madam." But he did not wish for a second bath.
"I have never thought about my heart," replied the Portuguese duck; "but I know that I love all my fellow creatures, except the cat, and nobody can expect me to love her, for she ate up two of my ducklings. But pray make yourself at home; it is easy to make oneself comfortable. I myself am from a foreign country, as you may see by my bearing and my feathery dress. My husband is a native of these parts; he's not of my race, but I am not proud on that account. If any one here can understand you, I may say positively that I am that person."
"She's quite full of portulak ,"
amusing. After that they all lay down to have a nap.
They had been lying asleep for quite a while, when suddenly something was thrown into the yard for them to eat. It came down with such a bang that the whole company started up and clapped their wings. The Portuguese awoke, too, and rushed over to the other side of the yard. In doing this she trod upon the little singing bird.
"Tweet," he cried; "you trod very hard upon me, madam."
"Well, then, why do you lie in my way?" she retorted. "You must not be so touchy. I have nerves of my own, but I do not cry 'Tweet.'"
"Don't be angry," said the little bird; "the 'Tweet' slipped out of my beak before I knew it."
The Portuguese did not listen to him, but began eating as fast as she could, and made a good meal. When she had finished she lay down again, and the little bird, who wished to be amiable, began to sing:
The little bird was quite taken aback, for he meant it kindly. When madam awoke afterwards, there he stood before her with a little corn he had found, and laid it at her feet; but as she had not slept well, she was naturally in a bad temper. "Give that to a chicken," she said, "and don't be always standing in my way."
"Why are you angry with me?" replied the little singing bird; "what have I done?"
"Done!" repeated the Portuguese duck; "your mode of expressing yourself is not very polite. I must call your attention to that fact."
"There was sunshine here yesterday," said the little bird, "but to-day it is cloudy and the air is heavy."
"You know very little about the weather, I fancy," she retorted; "the day is not over 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 now I'll teach you better manners." So saying, she made a bite at the little singing-bird's head, and he fell to the ground dead. "Now whatever is the meaning of this?" she said. "Could he not bear even such a little peck as I gave him? 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 cock from the neighboring yard stuck his head in and crowed with steam-engine power.
"You'll kill me with your crowing," she cried. "It's all your fault. He's lost his life, and I'm very near losing mine."
"There's not much of him lying there," observed the cock.
"Speak of him with respect," said the Portuguese duck, "for he had manners and education, and he could sing. He was affectionate and gentle, and those are as rare qualities in animals as in those who call themselves human beings."
Then all the ducks came crowding round the little dead bird. Ducks have strong passions, whether they feel envy or pity. There was nothing to envy here, so they all showed a great deal of pity. So also did the two Chinese. "We shall never again have such a singing bird among us; he was almost a Chinese," they whispered, and then they wept with such a noisy, clucking sound that all the other fowls clucked too. But the ducks went about with redder eyes afterwards. "We have hearts of our own," they said; "nobody can deny that."
"Hearts!" repeated the Portuguese. "Indeed you have almost as tender as the ducks in Portugal."
"Let us think of getting something to satisfy our hunger," said the drake; "that's the most important business. If one of our toys is broken, why, we have plenty more."
THE SNOW MAN
He had two triangular pieces of tile in his head instead of eyes, and his mouth, being made of an old broken rake, was therefore furnished with teeth. He had been brought into existence amid the joyous shouts of boys, the jingling of sleigh bells, and the slashing of whips.