by all the fowls
present.

'You must go up and bow low before her,' whispered the mother to her
children, nodding her head in the direction of the old lady, 'and keep
your legs well apart, as you see me do. No well-bred duckling turns in
its toes. It is a sign of common parents.'

The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the
movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with them;
but the rest of the ducks looked on discontentedly, and said to each
other:

'Oh, dear me, here are ever so many more! The yard is full already; and
did you ever see anything quite as ugly as that great tall creature? He
is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him out!' So saying she
put up her feathers, and running to the big duckling bit his neck.

The duckling gave a loud quack; it was the first time he had felt any
pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly.

'Leave him alone,' she said fiercely, 'or I will send for his father. He
was not troubling you.'

'No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him,' answered
the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the meaning of
the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more uncomfortable
still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the fowlyard struck in:

'It certainly is a great pity he is so different from these beautiful
darlings. If he could only be hatched over again!'

The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to look,
but was comforted when his mother answered:

'He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better, and
is very strong; I am sure he will make his way in the world as well as
anybody.'

'Well, you must feel quite at home here,' said the old duck waddling
off. And so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at
by everyone when they thought his mother was not looking. Even the
turkey-cock, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words,
and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any difference
unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as rude and unkind
as the rest.

At last he could bear it no longer, and one day he fancied he saw signs
of his mother turning against him too; so that night, when the ducks and
hens were still asleep, he stole away through an open door, and under
cover of the burdock leaves scrambled on by the bank of the canal, till
he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy