Towards evening, he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to fall,
and only remained standing because it could not decide on which side to fall
first. The storm continued so violent, that the duckling could go no farther;
he sat down by the cottage, and then he noticed that the door was not quite
closed in consequence of one of the hinges having given way. There was
therefore a narrow opening near the bottom large enough for him to slip
through, which he did very quietly, and got a shelter for the night. A woman, a
tom cat, and a hen lived in this cottage. The tom cat, whom the mistress
called, "My little son," was a great favorite; he could raise his
back, and purr, and could even throw out sparks from his fur if it were stroked
the wrong way. The hen had very short legs, so she was called "Chickie
short legs." She laid good eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had
been her own child. In the morning, the strange visitor was discovered, and the
tom cat began to purr, and the hen to cluck.
"What is that noise about?" said the old woman, looking round the
room, but her sight was not very good; therefore, when she saw the duckling she
thought it must be a fat duck, that had strayed from home. "Oh what a
prize!" she exclaimed, "I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall
have some duck's eggs. I must wait and see."
So the duckling was allowed to remain on trial for three weeks, but there were
no eggs. Now the tom cat was the master of the house, and the hen was mistress,
and they always said, "We and the world," for they believed themselves
to be half the world, and the better half too. The duckling thought that others
might hold a different opinion on the subject, but the hen would not listen to
such doubts.
"Can you lay eggs?" she asked.
"No."
"Then have the goodness to hold your tongue."
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