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Post by Fabel on Feb 28, 2008 3:04:13 GMT -5
((Heh - Anyone interested..? ))
Though Fabel told her stories all over New York, she had been meaning to head over to Manhattan. She was hoping she would bump into Race Track, but Manhattan was pretty big, and chances were slim. She had spent her whole day in Manhattan, and it was starting to get late, and after she had given up on selling her papers (As she so often did) she headed over to the Manhattan lodging house, hoping maybe for a bed for the night. She would sleep on the floor if she had to, but she did not want to walk all the way back to Harlem in the darkness. That was just plain dangerous. She was still limping from the past few days’ adventure, and it would slow her down considerably.
She wearily pushed open the door to the lodging house and walked up to Kloppman’s desk.
“Have you any room for me tonight?” she asked, shifting her weight to her uninjured leg. Kloppman studied the book in front of him for a moment, and then frowned. “Looks here like the beds are all taken tonight…” he said softly. Fabel nodded sadly and walked over to a chair where she sat down. She would have to think of another place somewhere close by that she could stay at, or she would ask for a spot on the floor. Kloppman must have noticed her limping, as a softer expression passed over his face. “Then again, I’m sure one of the boys wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor tonight...” he said. Fabel smiled warmly at the old man, and waited for the rest of them to file in for the night.
Kloppman yelled out a name and then continued, “Give the lass your bed tonight!” Fabel turned her head to see who’s bed she would be taking…
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Post by Fabel on Feb 28, 2008 15:15:35 GMT -5
((Heh - sounds good.  )) "Why do I gotta, Kloppman? I hurt my back t'day..."Fabel put her hands on her hips, and pursed her lips at the boy. She was about to protest, but then another, more familiar voice caught her attention. "You lousy liar," "What kinda gent are you, wouldn't give up your bed for a lady?""You got some nerve, tellin'..." There seemed to be a moment of recognition, and then Fabel beamed. It was Race Track. She stood up, and limped over to him. Before she could even open her mouth to greet him, he began; "Evelyn!""What're you doin' here? I didn't think you'd...aren't you s'posed to be in Harlem?"She laughed and hugged him to shush him. "I was in Manhattan for the day, and before I knew it - it was too late to head back to Harlem...So, I came here hoping for a free bed.." she trailed off. "If I have to, I'll sleep on the floor..." she said to the boy who had protested, "But I'm still staying here tonight." she said, glaring slightly at the ungracious boy. She was trying to make him feel guilty. |
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Post by Anthony Higgins on Feb 28, 2008 15:27:07 GMT -5
She hugged him, which startled him a little. He awkwardly hugged her back, as she explained to him she was in Manhattan for the day, and didn't want to risk going back to Harlem. "If I have to, I'll sleep on the floor..." "But I'm still staying here tonight."
"Well, why didn't ya say so?" Race said. It sounded funny once he'd said it, as if the phrase didn't quite fit in the conversation they were having, but he glazed over it and went on. "You can have my bed, no sweat. I don't mind the floor, so long as Snoddy decides to keep it clean for once..." It was Snoddy's job to clean the floors in the bunk room every night. It was an exchange for Kloppman letting him stay there for free. A lot of the boys paid minimal fees: a penny for a night or three cents for the week. The lodging house wasn't run by the city, so Kloppman had to fund it somehow. But Kloppman also knew that some boys couldn't afford to pay and had nowhere else to go, so he assigned them tasks or chores to do in exchange. Racetrack himself had to sweep the front desk area once a week.
"I heard that," Snoddy said with a frown. Race grinned and shook his head before turning back to Fabel. "It's really good t'see you, Evelyn, no kiddin'. How's, ah...how's your knee comin' along?" He'd feared infection when she'd gotten the cut, and he had seen the way she walked over to him. It wasn't a good sign, but he thought he'd ask anyway, just to make sure she'd be all right in the long run, which he assumed she would.
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Post by Fabel on Feb 28, 2008 15:37:46 GMT -5
"Well, why didn't ya say so?" "You can have my bed, no sweat. I don't mind the floor, so long as Snoddy decides to keep it clean for once..." "It's really good t'see you, Evelyn, no kiddin'. How's, ah...how's your knee comin' along?"
She smiled at his first comment, but at his second she frowned. "I couldn't have you sleep on the floor.." she stated, putting her hands on her hips. It didn't feel right, her coming in with no warning and just taking his bed. If he insisted, she wouldn't argue...Much...
How was her knee..? She really wasn't sure. She hadn't seen a doctor, but she hadn't been feeling ill from it either. It hadn't been a clean cut, and it had been filled with grotesque things, but the worse thing that had happened to her was fainting once. The only reason she had fainted was because the bandage had come off during the night and she was too weak from blood loss the next day. She decided she would leave that little detail out though...
"My knee..? It's, well..It's coming along." she smiled reassuringly. "It's really great to see you too An-" she stopped herself and looked around. She wasn't sure if he had wanted everyone to know his name or not so she continued, "Race." she grinned mischievously and shifted her weight uncomfortably.
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Post by Anthony Higgins on Feb 28, 2008 15:53:51 GMT -5
"I couldn't have you sleep on the floor.."
He waved his hand at her, in a gesture that implied something like No worries. "If you can deal with Kid Blink in the bunk above yours...he snores like a bear...it's not a problem. I tell ya..." He leaned in a little, as if speaking in confidance. "It's either the floor, or I share a bed with one of these boneheads. And Snitch 'n' Itey will tell ya...it ain't fun." He grinned at her. "I'll take the floor for one night any day."
"My knee..? It's, well..It's coming along."
"That's swell. If ya need any more help, Kloppman can fix ya right up, right, Kloppman?" Usually the Manhattan newsies came to Kloppman when they were injured, and he usually knew what to do. "Whenever you want I'll take ya upstairs and show you the bunk." They all looked the same, and oftentimes you had to yell at a boy that was just passing through for sleeping in your bed. They didn't exactly have signs with their names on them or anything, but once you knew yours was the bottom bunk third from the left, you knew it.
"It's really great to see you too An-" "Race."
He grinned at her. He wasn't quite sure if she was just being careful where she waved around his real name, or if she was just dropping a hint. Either way, Race would refer to her by her nickname, hoping that people weren't listening too closely when he called her Evelyn. "Thanks..." he said. "Say, now what're you plannin' on doin' to pass the time? Tired yet?" It was dark, but relatively early in the evening. He didn't think that Fabel wanted to go to bed right away (and he sort of didn't want her to but no one needed to know that), but there was no way of knowing.
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Post by Fabel on Feb 28, 2008 16:04:11 GMT -5
"If you can deal with Kid Blink in the bunk above yours...he snores like a bear...it's not a problem. I tell ya..." "It's either the floor, or I share a bed with one of these boneheads. And Snitch 'n' Itey will tell ya...it ain't fun." He grinned at her. "I'll take the floor for one night any day."
She laughed and replied jokingly, "Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" she continued, "If your really sure you don't mind, then I'll sleep on your bunk." she said half smiling. "But, I still hate the fact that I'm kicking you out of your bunk..." she added. She was an independent girl, and wasn't used to charity from anyone - so whether it was friendliness or whether it was feelings of pity, she could never tell, but she was grateful for it all the same.
"That's swell. If ya need any more help, Kloppman can fix ya right up, right, Kloppman?" "Whenever you want I'll take ya upstairs and show you the bunk."
She wasn't really tired, she was more...Weary. Her body ached, but her mind was alert. "I'll head up whenever you normally head up." she stated smiling. She didn't want any change of schedule just for her, so she would just go along with him.
"Thanks..." "Say, now what're you plannin' on doin' to pass the time? Tired yet?"
She gave short, half giggle half laugh, and replied, "Well, normally I'm telling stories to whoever wants to hear them...But whatever you normally do, I could try to..?" she suggested. She didn't particularly think that the older newsies such as Race Track would really want to hear her tales, but you never know.
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Post by Anthony Higgins on Feb 28, 2008 16:19:56 GMT -5
"If your really sure you don't mind, then I'll sleep on your bunk. But, I still hate the fact that I'm kicking you out of your bunk..."
Racetrack scoffed. "You ain't kicking me outta nothin'. If I really didn't want you to take my bunk I'd let you know." He would have, too. If for some reason he didn't want Fabel or anyone else sleeping in his bed, thus forcing him the floor, he would have said something. But with Fabel, the odds of something like that were slim to none. He liked her too much as a friend, he thought, to do that. But anyone else, all they would have to do was catch him in a rotten mood.
"I'll head up whenever you normally head up."
He flipped open his tarnished pocked watch and glanced at the time. "That ain't for about another hour or so," he informed her, shutting the watch and flipping it smartly back into his pocket. "You can c'min here with the rest of us..."
"Well, normally I'm telling stories to whoever wants to hear them...But whatever you normally do, I could try to..?"
Race thought for a moment. He would play dice or poker with her, but he was tired of winning for the night. And he wasn't sure what else there was to do aside from that, the newsies didn't exactly have an array of entertainment. Finally one of the younger newsies said, "You can tell stories?" Race nodded at the little boy and proclaimed, "She's good at it, too..."
Some of the older boys seemed uninterested, but most of the others...anyone under the age of twelve, plus the rather whimsical Crutchy...had already begun to gather around. Race rolled his eyes and looked at Fabel. "You up for it?"
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Post by Fabel on Feb 28, 2008 16:45:47 GMT -5
((I think I'll add Mush into the story. He's fun to mess with.  )) She followed him over to where most of the other newsies sat around, talking in colorful language, playing cards, dice, and other assortments of games. Fabel smiled as she was noticed by everyone. A boy jumped up and pulled out a small couch for her that could easily seat three people, which she obliged by sitting down in. "Names Mush, atcher service." the boy stated, winking at her and taking a place next to her. She raised her eyebrows and replied, "Are you really at my service..?" she asked keeping a straight face. She wanted to make him think a bit. "You can tell stories?"
"She's good at it, too..."
"You up for it?"Fabel's face lit up at the prospect of being able to tell a good story. She smiled broadly and thought for a moment. The first story that came into her head was one that was told to her when she was 14 years old. She had just finished telling the old story teller about her "Predicament" and he had launched right into this story, hoping to make her feel better. It had. "It was lovely summer weather in the country, and the golden corn, the green oats, and the haystacks piled up in the meadows looked beautiful. The stork walking about on his long red legs chattered in the Egyptian language, which he had learnt from his mother. The corn-fields and meadows were surrounded by large forests, in the midst of which were deep pools. It was, indeed, delightful to walk about in the country. In a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farm-house close by a deep river, and from the house down to the water side grew great burdock leaves, so high, that under the tallest of them a little child could stand upright. The spot was as wild as the centre of a thick wood. In this snug retreat sat a duck on her nest, watching for her young brood to hatch; she was beginning to get tired of her task, for the little ones were a long time coming out of their shells, and she seldom had any visitors. The other ducks liked much better to swim about in the river than to climb the slippery banks, and sit under a burdock leaf, to have a gossip with her. At length one shell cracked, and then another, and from each egg came a living creature that lifted its head and cried, "Peep, peep." "Quack, quack," said the mother, and then they all quacked as well as they could, and looked about them on every side at the large green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look as much as they liked, because green is good for the eyes. "How large the world is," said the young ducks, when they found how much more room they now had than while they were inside the egg-shell. "Do you imagine this is the whole world?" asked the mother; "Wait till you have seen the garden; it stretches far beyond that to the parson's field, but I have never ventured to such a distance. Are you all out?" she continued, rising; "No, I declare, the largest egg lies there still. I wonder how long this is to last, I am quite tired of it;" and she seated herself again on the nest." Fabel paused. The story of the ugly duckling applied so much to her life. "Well, how are you getting on?" asked an old duck, who paid her a visit. "One egg is not hatched yet," said the duck, "it will not break. But just look at all the others, are they not the prettiest little ducklings you ever saw? They are the image of their father, who is so unkind, he never comes to see." "Let me see the egg that will not break," said the duck; "I have no doubt it is a turkey's egg. I was persuaded to hatch some once, and after all my care and trouble with the young ones, they were afraid of the water. I quacked and clucked, but all to no purpose. I could not get them to venture in. Let me look at the egg. Yes, that is a turkey's egg; take my advice, leave it where it is and teach the other children to swim." "I think I will sit on it a little while longer," said the duck; "as I have sat so long already, a few days will be nothing." "Please yourself," said the old duck, and she went away. At last the large egg broke, and a young one crept forth crying, "Peep, peep." It was very large and ugly. The duck stared at it and exclaimed, "It is very large and not at all like the others. I wonder if it really is a turkey. We shall soon find it out, however when we go to the water. It must go in, if I have to push it myself." On the next day the weather was delightful, and the sun shone brightly on the green burdock leaves, so the mother duck took her young brood down to the water, and jumped in with a splash. "Quack, quack," cried she, and one after another the little ducklings jumped in. The water closed over their heads, but they came up again in an instant, and swam about quite prettily with their legs paddling under them as easily as possible, and the ugly duckling was also in the water swimming with them. "Oh," said the mother, "that is not a turkey; how well he uses his legs, and how upright he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is not so very ugly after all if you look at him properly. Quack, quack! come with me now, I will take you into grand society, and introduce you to the farmyard, but you must keep close to me or you may be trodden upon; and, above all, beware of the cat." How true it was. Her mother had loved her after she had gotten used to her, but that had not lasted long...Still, the story was not over. |
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Post by Anthony Higgins on Feb 28, 2008 18:14:14 GMT -5
"Names Mush, atcher service."
"Are you really at my service..?"
Race smirked at Fabel and gave Mush a punch on the arm. "Watch it, Mush..." he said, still grinning. He took a seat next to Fabel. Mush was always trying to cozy up to any female visitors they had at the lodging house, but Race had the feeling he would be less than successful with Fabel. She didn't seem the type to fall for the charm that Mush admittadly posessed.
A reverent quiet fell over the room as Fabel began her story. The younger boys were hooked from the start. Slowly, the other boys turned from their card games and dice, shifted in their seats, leaned against the wall to listen. The quality of her language made all of they pay attention, and some of the little ones looked so absorbed in her words they seemed to forget the world around them. There was something in her voice, Race decided when she pasued. There was something that made you listen to her. And something that made you see everything she described in your mind's eye.
The little boys giggled whenever she quacked, but that was the only sound in the room. By the time she paused after desrcibing the mother's ducks words to the ugly duckling about the cat, every eye in the room was on her. This pause lasted longer than the others. Racetrack tore himself away from the sleepy daze her storytelling had cast upon the room. Crutchy, sitting on the floor with the kids, his crutch laying across his lap, asked, "Is that the end?"
"Course not, dummy, she hasn't gotten to the good parts yet..." Snitch hadn't been happy about Snipeshooter putting down his hand of cards to listen, but secretly found Fabel's story interesting himself. Racetrack shushed them and turned to Fabel. "Go on, Fabel..."
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Post by Fabel on Feb 29, 2008 0:38:11 GMT -5
"Watch it, Mush..."
Mush frowned at Race, "What? She ain't yer's is she?" he asked softly, so that only Race could hear.
Fabel glanced at Race, and then to the younger newsies and smiled at there urging her on. She then began once more;
"When they reached the farmyard, there was a great
disturbance, two families were fighting for an eel's head,
which, after all, was carried off by the cat. "See, children,
that is the way of the world," said the mother duck, whetting
her beak, for she would have liked the eel's head herself.
"Come, now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can
behave. You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck
yonder; she is the highest born of them all, and has Spanish
blood, therefore, she is well off. Don't you see she has a red
flag tied to her leg, which is something very grand, and a
great honor for a duck; it shows that every one is anxious not
to lose her, as she can be recognized both by man and beast.
Come, now, don't turn your toes, a well-bred duckling spreads
his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother, in this
way; now bend your neck, and say 'quack.'"
The ducklings did as they were bid, but the other duck
stared, and said, "Look, here comes another brood, as if there
were not enough of us already! and what a queer looking object
one of them is; we don't want him here," and then one flew out
and bit him in the neck.
"Let him alone," said the mother; "he is not doing any
harm."
"Yes, but he is so big and ugly," said the spiteful duck
"and therefore he must be turned out."
"The others are very pretty children," said the old duck,
with the rag on her leg, "all but that one; I wish his mother
could improve him a little."
"That is impossible, your grace," replied the mother; "he
is not pretty; but he has a very good disposition, and swims
as well or even better than the others. I think he will grow
up pretty, and perhaps be smaller; he has remained too long in
the egg, and therefore his figure is not properly formed;" and
then she stroked his neck and smoothed the feathers, saying,
"It is a drake, and therefore not of so much consequence. I
think he will grow up strong, and able to take care of
himself."
"The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old
duck. "Now make yourself at home, and if you can find an eel's
head, you can bring it to me."
And so they made themselves comfortable; but the poor
duckling, who had crept out of his shell last of all, and
looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of, not
only by the ducks, but by all the poultry. "He is too big,"
they all said, and the turkey cock, who had been born into the
world with spurs, and fancied himself really an emperor,
puffed himself out like a vessel in full sail, and flew at the
duckling, and became quite red in the head with passion, so
that the poor little thing did not know where to go, and was
quite miserable because he was so ugly and laughed at by the
whole farmyard. So it went on from day to day till it got
worse and worse. The poor duckling was driven about by every
one; even his brothers and sisters were unkind to him, and
would say, "Ah, you ugly creature, I wish the cat would get
you," and his mother said she wished he had never been born.
The ducks pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the girl who
fed the poultry kicked him with her feet. So at last he ran
away, frightening the little birds in the hedge as he flew
over the palings."
She paused again, closing her eyes for a brief second. She understood fully why the old story teller had told her this story after she had told hers. There were so many similarities. Of course, she was not a duck, but she was the duck. Her whole family had hated her because of the timing of her birth. The whole town had scorned her and set her apart like she was a leper. She swallowed and continued;
"They are afraid of me because I am ugly," he said. So he
closed his eyes, and flew still farther, until he came out on
a large moor, inhabited by wild ducks. Here he remained the
whole night, feeling very tired and sorrowful.
In the morning, when the wild ducks rose in the air, they
stared at their new comrade. "What sort of a duck are you?"
they all said, coming round him.
He bowed to them, and was as polite as he could be, but he
did not reply to their question. "You are exceedingly ugly,"
said the wild ducks, "but that will not matter if you do not
want to marry one of our family."
Poor thing! he had no thoughts of marriage; all he wanted
was permission to lie among the rushes, and drink some of the
water on the moor. After he had been on the moor two days,
there came two wild geese, or rather goslings, for they had
not been out of the egg long, and were very saucy. "Listen,
friend," said one of them to the duckling, "you are so ugly,
that we like you very well. Will you go with us, and become a
bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor, in which
there are some pretty wild geese, all unmarried. It is a
chance for you to get a wife; you may be lucky, ugly as you
are."
"Pop, pop," sounded in the air, and the two wild geese
fell dead among the rushes, and the water was tinged with
blood. "Pop, pop," echoed far and wide in the distance, and
whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the rushes. The sound
continued from every direction, for the sportsmen surrounded
the moor, and some were even seated on branches of trees,
overlooking the rushes. The blue smoke from the guns rose like
clouds over the dark trees, and as it floated away across the
water, a number of sporting dogs bounded in among the rushes,
which bent beneath them wherever they went. How they terrified
the poor duckling! He turned away his head to hide it under
his wing, and at the same moment a large terrible dog passed
quite near him. His jaws were open, his tongue hung from his
mouth, and his eyes glared fearfully. He thrust his nose close
to the duckling, showing his sharp teeth, and then..."
She stopped and smiled, giving it some suspense. Her hand moved to Race's pocket watch and she looked at the time. It had been a half an hour.
"splash,
splash," he went into the water without touching him, "Oh,"
sighed the duckling, "how thankful I am for being so ugly;
even a dog will not bite me." And so he lay quite still, while
the shot rattled through the rushes, and gun after gun was
fired over him. It was late in the day before all became
quiet, but even then the poor young thing did not dare to
move. He waited quietly for several hours, and then, after
looking carefully around him, hastened away from the moor as
fast as he could. He ran over field and meadow till a storm
arose, and he could hardly struggle against it. 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." "Can you raise your back, or
purr, or throw out sparks?" said the tom cat. "No." "Then you
have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are
speaking." So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling very low
spirited, till the sunshine and the fresh air came into the
room through the open door, and then he began to feel such a
great longing for a swim on the water, that he could not help
telling the hen.
"What an absurd idea," said the hen. "You have nothing
else to do, therefore you have foolish fancies. If you could
purr or lay eggs, they would pass away."
"But it is so delightful to swim about on the water," said
the duckling, "and so refreshing to feel it close over your
head, while you dive down to the bottom."
"Delightful, indeed!" said the hen, "why you must be
crazy! Ask the cat, he is the cleverest animal I know, ask him
how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under
it, for I will not speak of my own opinion; ask our mistress,
the old woman- there is no one in the world more clever than
she is. Do you think she would like to swim, or to let the
water close over her head?"
"You don't understand me," said the duckling.
"We don't understand you? Who can understand you, I
wonder? Do you consider yourself more clever than the cat, or
the old woman? I will say nothing of myself. Don't imagine
such nonsense, child, and thank your good fortune that you
have been received here. Are you not in a warm room, and in
society from which you may learn something. But you are a
chatterer, and your company is not very agreeable. Believe me,
I speak only for your own good. I may tell you unpleasant
truths, but that is a proof of my friendship. I advise you,
therefore, to lay eggs, and learn to purr as quickly as
possible."
"I believe I must go out into the world again," said the
duckling.
"Yes, do," said the hen. So the duckling left the cottage,
and soon found water on which it could swim and dive, but was
avoided by all other animals, because of its ugly appearance.
Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to orange and
gold. then, as winter approached, the wind caught them as they
fell and whirled them in the cold air. The clouds, heavy with
hail and snow-flakes, hung low in the sky, and the raven stood
on the ferns crying, "Croak, croak." It made one shiver with
cold to look at him. All this was very sad for the poor little
duckling. One evening, just as the sun set amid radiant
clouds, there came a large flock of beautiful birds out of the
bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them before. They
were swans, and they curved their graceful necks, while their
soft plumage shown with dazzling whiteness. They uttered a
singular cry, as they spread their glorious wings and flew
away from those cold regions to warmer countries across the
sea. As they mounted higher and higher in the air, the ugly
little duckling felt quite a strange sensation as he watched
them. He whirled himself in the water like a wheel, stretched
out his neck towards them, and uttered a cry so strange that
it frightened himself. Could he ever forget those beautiful,
happy birds; and when at last they were out of his sight, he
dived under the water, and rose again almost beside himself
with excitement. He knew not the names of these birds, nor
where they had flown, but he felt towards them as he had never
felt for any other bird in the world. He was not envious of
these beautiful creatures, but wished to be as lovely as they."
She paused again. This was the part where she had found the newsies and they had graciously taken her in as one of the family.
"Poor ugly creature, how gladly he would have lived even with
the ducks had they only given him encouragement. The winter
grew colder and colder; he was obliged to swim about on the
water to keep it from freezing, but every night the space on
which he swam became smaller and smaller. At length it froze
so hard that the ice in the water crackled as he moved, and
the duckling had to paddle with his legs as well as he could,
to keep the space from closing up. He became exhausted at
last, and lay still and helpless, frozen fast in the ice.
Early in the morning, a peasant, who was passing by, saw
what had happened. He broke the ice in pieces with his wooden
shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. The warmth
revived the poor little creature; but when the children wanted
to play with him, the duckling thought they would do him some
harm; so he started up in terror, fluttered into the milk-pan,
and splashed the milk about the room. Then the woman clapped
her hands, which frightened him still more. He flew first into
the butter-cask, then into the meal-tub, and out again. What a
condition he was in! The woman screamed, and struck at him
with the tongs; the children laughed and screamed, and tumbled
over each other, in their efforts to catch him; but luckily he
escaped. The door stood open; the poor creature could just
manage to slip out among the bushes, and lie down quite
exhausted in the newly fallen snow.
It would be very sad, were I to relate all the misery and
privations which the poor little duckling endured during the
hard winter; but when it had passed, he found himself lying
one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes. He felt the warm
sun shining, and heard the lark singing, and saw that all
around was beautiful spring. Then the young bird felt that his
wings were strong, as he flapped them against his sides, and
rose high into the air. They bore him onwards, until he found
himself in a large garden, before he well knew how it had
happened. The apple-trees were in full blossom, and the
fragrant elders bent their long green branches down to the
stream which wound round a smooth lawn. Everything looked
beautiful, in the freshness of early spring. From a thicket
close by came three beautiful white swans, rustling their
feathers, and swimming lightly over the smooth water. The
duckling remembered the lovely birds, and felt more strangely
unhappy than ever.
"I will fly to those royal birds," he exclaimed, "and they
will kill me, because I am so ugly, and dare to approach them;
but it does not matter: better be killed by them than pecked
by the ducks, beaten by the hens, pushed about by the maiden
who feeds the poultry, or starved with hunger in the winter."
Then he flew to the water, and swam towards the beautiful
swans. The moment they espied the stranger, they rushed to
meet him with outstretched wings.
"Kill me," said the poor bird; and he bent his head down
to the surface of the water, and awaited death.
But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own
image; no longer a dark, gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to
look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. To be born in a
duck's nest, in a farmyard, is of no consequence to a bird, if
it is hatched from a swan's egg. He now felt glad at having
suffered sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy
so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him; for
the great swans swam round the new-comer, and stroked his neck
with their beaks, as a welcome.
Into the garden presently came some little children, and
threw bread and cake into the water.
"See," cried the youngest, "there is a new one;" and the
rest were delighted, and ran to their father and mother,
dancing and clapping their hands, and shouting joyously,
"There is another swan come; a new one has arrived."
Then they threw more bread and cake into the water, and
said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all; he is so
young and pretty." And the old swans bowed their heads before
him.
Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his
wing; for he did not know what to do, he was so happy, and yet
not at all proud. He had been persecuted and despised for his
ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful
of all the birds. Even the elder-tree bent down its bows into
the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. Then
he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried
joyfully, from the depths of his heart, "I never dreamed of
such happiness as this, while I was an ugly duckling."
Fabel ended her story and looked over at Race smiling.
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