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Updated: September 11, 2025
It had grown massively graceful. The former thatch of half-curly and indeterminately yellowish fuzz had changed to a rough tawny coat, wavy and unbelievably heavy, stippled at the ends with glossy black. There was a strange depth and repose and Soul in the dark eyes yes, and a keen intelligence, too. It was the old story of the Ugly Duckling, all over again. "Why!" gasped the Mistress.
What did hardness matter? The thing that really mattered was that he had treasure to lay at the feet of Becky. He sat down at the desk to write to her, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, a hand that shook with excitement. "I am to meet a lot of big fellows to-morrow I shall feel like an ugly duckling among the swans oh, the swans, Becky, did we ever think that the Trumpeter in his old glass case "
Still, it was much better so. If he had had no brothers and sisters, he would have been a lonely little fellow; besides, he would have had his own way nearly all the time, and that is likely to make any Duckling selfish. Then, too, if all the other fowls had petted him and given him the best of everything, he would have become vain.
And comparison with a sentence like the farmer killed the duckling indicates that there is implied in this overburdened -s a distinct reference to present time. Statement as such and personal reference may well be looked upon as inherently relational concepts.
Her other daughters would be a source of pride to their uncle; he could secure great matches for them, but Marie pah! she would bring discredit on the whole family. And so it was decided in conclave that the "ugly duckling" should be left in a nunnery the only fit place for her. But Marie happily had a spirit of her own.
Instantly the young shot out of the cavity that held them, as if the tree had taken an emetic, and came softly down to the water beside their mother. Another observer assures me that he once found a newly hatched duckling hung by the neck in the fork of a bush under a tree in which a brood of Wood ducks had been hatched.
But it doesn't hurt so much as it did before I came to see you. Perhaps the pasture is a better place for lame legs than the farmyard." He didn't know that it was because he was trying to make somebody else happy that he felt so much better, yet that was the reason. The Blind Horse and the Duckling became very fond of each other and had a fine time.
And the poor little duckling did take that, and scampered off to its mother, crying out in such a pitiful voice, "Wheedle-wheedle-wheedle," that the heron forgot his ill-humour and burst out laughing, and felt quite sorry that he had given poor little Yellow-down such a cruel poke in its back with his long sharp beak.
The girl takes to society as naturally as a duckling does to the placid pond, but with a semblance of shy timidity; the boy plunges in with a great splash, and hides his shy awkwardness in noise and commotion. When John entered, the company had nearly all come. He knew them every one, and yet there was something about them strange and unfamiliar.
I knew it. They fooled you!" Old Father Drake, the head of the duck family, started for the water. Mother Duck and all the little ducks went in too. They were going to show Duckie the way. He just couldn't stand it any longer. So plopp in he went and paddled around after the others, and ducked his head under the water to catch his dinner, just as a real duckling should.
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