That was fun, too—clambering up over the rocks. The ducklings scrambled and slipped and queeked, and their mother helped them; so after a while they found themselves on the very tip top of the highest rock of all, and oh, how the wind did blow up there.

“Now look!” said Mother Duck. “Do you see over there?” and she pointed with her wing to a farmyard in the distance. “That is where I used to live.”

“Why, mother,” cried the ducklings, “we thought you’d always lived down by the river in our tree!”

“No, indeed; I lived right there in that farmyard,” answered their mother; and then she began to tell them about it, and of her life there, and of how if she had stayed there they might[11]
[12]
[13] have had a hen for their mother instead of her. That seemed a horrible thing to the little ducklings—t. . . Read More