ONE morning, when Lucy was seated at her desk, in Mary Jay’s room, the little girl that opened the door for her, the first day of her coming to school, came in and told Mary Jay that there was a young gentleman at the door who wanted to see Lucy.
“A young gentleman!” said Lucy, astonished. She couldn’t imagine how any young gentleman could have called to see her. She looked up to Mary Jay, without saying a word.
“Well, Lucy,” said Mary Jay, “you had better go and see who it is.”
So Lucy rose; but she was somewhat afraid to go. However, she followed the little girl out; and then, passing through the intervening room, she went to the front door; and there Lucy found that the young gentleman was nobody but Royal. Lucy laughed aloud.
“What are you laughing at?” said Royal.
“Why, the girl said that there was a young gentleman at the door, who wanted to see me.”
“Well, I am a young gentleman,” said Royal, “I’d have you to know. But come, I am going to ride away in a chaise, and my father said that I might call and get you to go too, if Mary Jay was willing.”
So Lucy went in to ask Mary Jay. She readily gave her consent, only she told Lucy that she had better take Royal about the garden and yards a little, and let him see what there was to be seen.
Lucy was much pleased to adopt this plan. She first took Royal to the water post, as she called it, to let him see the water spout out, and she told him that the pipes, which conveyed the water to it, were wooden pipes, not leaden ones. Then she conducted him into the garden, and pointed out the hive of bees to him, standing at a safe distance. Then they both clambered over the stile, and went down to the brook, where Lucy was going to show him Mary Jay’s seat; but her attention was arrested at the sight of a duck and six small ducklings, sailing about upon the pond. Both Royal and Lucy were greatly delighted at this sight. The little ducklings would swim about, and dabble with their bills in the sand, and in the grass upon the bank, as skilfully as if they had been practising half a dozen years.
“O, what beautiful little things!” said Royal. “I wish I had a duck.”
“I didn’t know that Mary Jay had any ducks,” said Lucy.
Some of the ducks were nearly black, and some were yellow; they were all covered with a silky down, instead of feathers, with a little tuft on each side, in the place of wings. Their little web feet were, however, perfectly formed, and were smooth and glossy. Lucy saw one very plainly, when one of the ducks was running on the bank.
After some time, the children left the pond and the ducks, and went up to the house again; and then Lucy got into the chaise with Royal, and rode away. They rode about two miles, when Royal did his errand, and then they returned home. Royal left Lucy at her school again, as there was some more school time yet left; and, besides, Lucy wanted to ask Mary Jay something about the ducks.
When she came into the school-room, however, Mary Jay said to her,—
“Well, Lucy, have you had a pleasant ride?”
“Yes,” said Lucy, “we went over the bridge, and——”
Lucy was going on to describe her ride, but Mary Jay said that it was her study hours, and that she had better sit right down to her studies, and when she had finished her lesson, then she should like very much to hear about her ride.
“You see,” continued Mary Jay, “that it will be better for us not to lose any more time than is necessary, when you go away to ride; for then your father, when he finds it doesn’t make much interruption, will let you go the oftener.”
Lucy accordingly sat down at once to her work, and studied industriously upon her spelling lesson, until the time had expired. Then she told Mary Jay about her ride, and afterwards asked her about the ducks.
“The ducks!” repeated Mary Jay; “where did you see them? Down in the brook?”
“Yes,” said Lucy, “a duck, and six little ducklings.”
“Why, Lucy,” said Mary Jay, apparently much surprised, and starting up to take her crutches. “Then my ducklings are hatched out.”
“Didn’t you know it?” said Lucy.
“No,” said Mary Jay; “let us go and see.”
So Mary Jay and Lucy hastened out into the yard. From the yard they passed into the garden, and from thence over the stile. They followed the path down, until they came to the water; and here Mary Jay seemed to be even more pleased than Royal and Lucy had been, to see her little ducklings.
“I didn’t know that they were hatched,” said Mary Jay; “the duck has been sitting for some time, but I didn’t think that she could find her way down here alone, with all the little ducklings. Let’s see—how many are there?”
“Six,” said Lucy; “Royal and I counted them.”
“One, two, three, four, five,—and that little black one on the bank makes six,” said Mary Jay. “But there ought to be seven.”
“Why?” said Lucy.
“Because,” said Mary Jay, “there were seven eggs. Let us go to the nest and see.”
So Mary Jay and Lucy went back towards the house. They went through the garden and the yard beyond, where the aqueduct was situated, and thence they passed into another yard, where there was a barn and a shed.
“I don’t see how the little ducklings could get over all these fences,” said Lucy.
“No,” said Mary Jay, “they didn’t; there is another way for them to go. I will show it to you presently.”
They now came into a shed, where there was a cart and a wagon; and in one corner there was a sleigh, which had been stored away there for the summer. Mary Jay looked under the sleigh, and Lucy stooped down and looked under too.
There was a nest made of hay under the back corner of the sleigh, with several egg-shells lying about it; in the nest was one egg remaining, which seemed to be whole.
“There is one egg,” said Mary Jay; “couldn’t you creep under and get it, Lucy? Stop a minute, and I will put something down for you to kneel upon.”
So Mary Jay took the seat out of the sleigh, which was a smooth board, like a box cover, and she put it down upon the ground between the two runners. Then Lucy crept in upon this, going in in front; and when she came to the end of the seat, she found that she could just reach the egg. She took it up, and was bringing it out, when suddenly she dropped it, appearing to be frightened.
“What is the matter?” said Mary Jay.
“Why, I heard it peep,” said Lucy.
“Did you?” said Mary Jay; “then there must be a little duckling in it alive. Take it up very carefully, and bring it out to me.”
So Lucy took up the egg again, and crept out backward, and handed it to Mary Jay. Then she came out entirely, and stood up before Mary Jay to see the egg. It was cracked and broken by the fall.
“Put the seat back in its place, Lucy,” said Mary Jay, “and then we can get into the sleigh, and sit down.”
So Lucy put the seat back in its place, and they both stepped in and sat down. Then Mary Jay began carefully to pull off the pieces of the shell.
“Are you going to take the little duckling out?” asked Lucy.
“Yes,” replied Mary Jay; “but I don’t believe it will live.”
“Why not?” said Lucy.
“Because,” said Mary Jay, “it is so tender and young. You see it is not fledged yet, and it ought to be kept warm; but the old duck has gone away with the others, and so she will not take care of it; and it is not grown enough to swim about in the water.”
By this time, Mary Jay had got the little duckling out, and held it in her hand. He was partly covered with a coarse sort of bristles, the rudiments of future feathers. He peeped a little, but he could not stand, or hold up his head. He lay extended upon Mary Jay’s hand, almost lifeless and cold.
“How shaggy he looks!” said Mary Jay.
“Shaggy?” repeated Lucy.
“Yes,” replied Mary Jay; “he looks more like a young porcupine, than like a duck.”
“Let me hold him in my hand,” said Lucy.
So Mary Jay gently placed him in Lucy’s hand.
“Now put your other hand over him,” said Mary Jay.
“What for?” said Lucy.
“To keep him warm,” said Mary Jay. “One of your hands will be a bed, and the other a blanket.”
“We’ll go in and give him something to eat,” said Lucy.
“No,” replied Mary Jay, “it is warmth, not food, that he wants.”
So Mary Jay walked along towards the house, and Lucy followed her, carrying the duckling very carefully, covering it with her right hand, though she took care not to press her hand down upon it hard enough to hurt it. When they got into the house, Mary Jay got a little basket, not much larger than a tea-cup, and lined the bottom of it with cotton. Then she put in the duckling, and covered him over with cotton.
“O Mary Jay,” said Lucy, “you’ll stifle him.”
“No,” said Mary Jay, “he has more air to breathe than he had in the egg-shell; the great thing is to keep him warm.”
When Mary Jay had got the little duckling comfortably established in his basket, she went out into the kitchen, and put the basket in a pretty warm corner, and left him. Then she told Lucy that it was time for her to go home.
“Do you think that the duckling will live?” said Lucy.
“No,” said Mary Jay, “I am afraid not—but we can tell by the time you come to school to-morrow morning.”
When it was time for Lucy to come home from her school the next day, Royal went out to the door to watch for her; for Lucy had told him about the duckling, and he was very eager to hear whether it was alive or not. After waiting some time, he caught a glimpse of Lucy’s bonnet, through the trees, as she was coming along the road. When she had advanced so far as to come into full view, he saw that she had a little basket in her hand, which she was bringing along very carefully.
“Lucy,” said Royal, calling out aloud to her, “what have you got there?”
Lucy looked up, and, seeing Royal, began to run along a little, very gently, towards him; but she checked herself immediately, finding that it shook the basket too much. So she contented herself with walking as fast as she could, calling out at the same time, in reply to Royal,—
“I’ve got the little duckling. Mary Jay has given it to me.”
By this time Royal had run up to where she was, very eager to look in and see the little duckling.
“Is it alive, Lucy?” said he. “Is it alive?”
“Yes,” said Lucy; and she moved away a little of the cotton, and let Royal look in. The duckling held up its head, and began to peep. It was alive, and pretty strong, and covered with a soft, silky down, like the ducklings which Royal and Lucy had seen in the water.
“You said he was all covered with bristles,” said Royal.
“Yes,” replied Lucy, “but they have all grown out into feathers.”
“O Lucy,” said Royal, “what a beautiful little duckling! I wish I had it. Didn’t she give it partly to me? To me and you together, I guess it was,” he added.
“No,” replied Lucy, “to me alone. She gave it altogether to me.”
“Well,” said Royal, “I wish you would let me own it with you;” and then he added, after a moment’s pause, “I’ll make you a duck pond, Lucy; you must have a duck pond.”
“You can’t make a duck pond,” said Lucy.
“O Lucy! yes I can,” replied Royal.
“Big enough for him to swim in?” said Lucy.
“Yes,” replied Royal, “plenty big enough.”
“Well,” said Lucy, “but where will you make it?”
“O, any where—wherever you want it.”
Lucy still had some doubts whether Royal could really make a duck pond; but, as she wanted very much to see the little duckling swim, she finally concluded to agree to Royal’s proposal, and to let him own it with her, provided he would make a pond.