Instantly she was answered from a distant knoll, where for some reason
Sir Muscovy loved to retire for meditation. The cries grew lower and
softer as the birds approached each other, and they met at the corner
just under my window. Instantly they put their two bills together and
the loud cries changed to confiding murmurs. Evidently some hurried
questions and answers passed between them, and then Sir Muscovy waddled
rapidly by the quickest path, Miss Crippletoes following him at a slower
pace, and both passed out of sight, using their wings to help their feet
down the steep declivity. The next morning, when I wakened early, my
first thought was to look out, and there on the sunny greensward where
they were accustomed to be fed, Sir Muscovy, Lady Blanche, and their
humble maid, Malardina Crippletoes, were scattering their own breakfast
before the bills of twelve beautiful golden balls of ducklings. The
little creatures could never have climbed the bank, but must have started
from their nest at dawn, coming round by the brook to the level at the
foot of the garden, and so by slow degrees up to the house.
Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits, I am sure the
excitement of the previous morning was occasioned by the hatching of the
eggs, and that Lady Blanche had hastily sent her friend to call Sir
Muscovy, the family remaining together until they could bring the babies
with them and display their beauty to Phoebe and me.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54