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Updated: September 21, 2025
"I've to quit, Missie," she sobbed, "to leave me 'ome and Duckie and the plum tree, an' I've no place to go to, and naught but my ten pounds to live on and 't won't keep me without I've the plum tree, not when I've rent to pay from it; not if I don't eat nothing but tea an' bread never again!"
"I haven't been there in two years," he mused. "I ought to go again soon. The old lady may not live very long, she's so feeble. Let's see! Suppose we make it the week-end before election. I'll write to her to-morrow that we're all coming, you and Mother and I." "Oh, but, Father!" exclaimed Joyce. "Couldn't we go sooner? That's nearly a month off!" "Best I can do, Duckie dear!
"I'll 'ave to leave it all leave the old bench as me William did put for me with his own 'ands, and leave Duckie, Duckie can't never go to Exeter if I goes there, and leave the plum tree." She limped across the little bit of sunny turf, and stood under the white canopy of the blossoming tree, leaning against its slender trunk.
Go and kiss your mammy, and tell your big brother what they did to little duckie Steevie, did they then? they shouldn't! Give him a suck of his bottle! oh, my!" and he finished up with a most withering laugh. Then, suddenly remembering his errand, he walked up to the table, and said, "I want that inkpot!" Now was Stephen's time. He was just in the humour for an argument with this young Philistine.
"And what does he?" Arthur always asked. "He wants a bit o' bacca, my duckie." This story of Taffy would go on interminably, and everybody loved it. Or sometimes it was a new tale. "An' what dost think, my darlin'? When I went to put my coat on at snap-time, what should go runnin' up my arm but a mouse. "'Hey up, theer! I shouts. "An' I wor just in time ter get 'im by th' tail."
"Eh, duckie?" she kept saying at every turn. "How we did use to laugh in those days when we went to Mother Josse's school in the Rue Polonceau!" When the roast was being served the two women plunged into a world of reminiscences. They used to have regular chattering fits of this kind when a sudden desire to stir the muddy depths of their childhood would possess them.
We greeted him with enthusiasm it was the local low comedian. The piano tinkled saucily. The self-confident man winked and opened wide his mouth. It was a funny song; how we roared with laughter! The last line of each verse was the same: "And that's what it's like when you're married." "Before it was 'duckie, and 'darling, and 'dear. Now it's 'Take your cold feet away, Brute! can't you hear?
Then Duckie was released and fed and departed to gabble her wrongs to the other white ducks that were preening themselves amongst the deep green grass of the adjacent orchard. "You can 'ear that bird a mile away she's never done talking!" said Mrs. Darke as the indignant gabble grew fainter in the distance. "But 'ere's my old man a-come to look at the plum tree. Wonder what he'll say to it?
Duckie I calls 'er and Duckie she is; company she is, too, to me mornin's, with her 'Quack, Quack, under the winder." So the old woman prattled on, giving Robinette all the history of her life, with its tiny joys and many struggles, till it seemed to the listener that she had always known Mrs. Prettyman, the plum tree, and her duck known them and loved them, all three.
Now what you ought to say to her is something like this: 'My own darling or sweetheart or even duckie, use some popular symbol, as it were, of affection, 'I am so passionately' or fervently, if you like let us say, 'so fervently in love with you that I can't hold out' or perhaps you might find a better word than that; you want to inflame the lassie without startling her.
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