What a petty, weak, ignoble character! I really don't like
to think so badly of any fellow-creature as I am forced to think of that
politic, time-serving, pusillanimous goose. I believe she laid the egg
that produced the idiot gosling!
CHAPTER IX
Here follows the true story of Sir Muscovy Drake, the Lady Blanche, and
Miss Malardina Crippletoes.
Phoebe's flock consisted at first mostly of Brown Mallards, but a friend
gave her a sitting of eggs warranted to produce a most beautiful variety
of white ducks. They were hatched in due time, but proved hard to raise,
till at length there was only one survivor, of such uncommon grace and
beauty that we called her the Lady Blanche. Presently a neighbour sold
Phoebe his favourite Muscovy drake, and these two splendid creatures by
"natural selection" disdained to notice the rest of the flock, but
forming a close friendship, wandered in the pleasant paths of duckdom
together, swimming and eating quite apart from the others.
In the brown flock there was one unfortunate, misshapen from the egg,
quite lame, and with no smoothness of plumage; but on that very account,
apparently, or because she was too weak to resist them, the others
treated her cruelly, biting her and pushing her away from the food.
One day it happened that the two ducks--Sir Muscovy and Lady Blanche--had
come up from the water before the others, and having taken their repast
were sitting together under the shade of a flowering currant-bush, when
they chanced to see poor Miss Crippletoes very badly used and crowded
away from the dish.
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