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The little singing bird busied himself with his broken wing. At last he lay down too, and pressed close to his protectress: the sun shone warm and bright, and he had found a very good place.

But the neighbour’s fowls were awake. They went about scratching up the earth; and, to tell the truth, they had paid the visit simply and solely to find food for themselves. The Chinese were the first to leave the duck-yard; and the other fowls soon followed them. The witty little duck said of the Portuguese that the old lady was becoming a ducky dotard. At this the other ducks laughed and cackled aloud. “Ducky dotard,” they whispered; “that’s too witty!” and then they repeated the former joke about Portulak, and declared that it was vastly amusing. And then they lay down.

They had been lying asleep for some time, when suddenly something was thrown into the yard for them to eat. It came down with such a thwack, that the whole company started up from sleep and clapped their wings. The Portuguese awoke too, and threw herself over on the other side, pressing the little singing bird very hard as she did so.

“Piep!” he cried; “you trod very hard upon me, madam.”

“Well, why do you lie in my way?” the duck retorted. “You must not be so touchy. I have nerves of my own, but yet I never called out ‘Piep!’

“Don’t be angry,” said the little bird “the ‘piep’ came out of my beak unawares.”

The Portuguese did not listen to him, but began eating as fast as she could, and made a good meal. When this was ended, and she lay down again, the little bird came up, and wanted to be amiable, and sang:

“Tillee-lilly lee,
Of the good spring time,
I’ll sing so fine
As far away I flee.”

“Now I want to rest after my dinner,” said the Portuguese. “You must conform to the rules of the house while you’re here. I want to sleep now.”

The little singing bird was quite taken aback, for he had meant it kindly. When Madam afterwards awoke, he stood before her again with a little corn that he had found, and laid it at her feet; but as she had not slept well, she was naturally in a very bad humour.

“Give that to a chicken!” she said, “and don’t be always standing in my way.”

“Why are you angry with me?” replied the little singing bird. “What have I done?”

“Done!” repeated the Portuguese duck: “your mode of expression is not exactly genteel; a fact to which I must call your attention.”

“Yesterday it was sunshine here,” said the little bird, “but to-day it’s cloudy and the air is close.”

“You don’t know much about the weather, I fancy,” retorted the Portuguese. “The day is not done yet. Don’t stand there looking so stupid.”

“But you are looking at me just as the wicked eyes looked when I fell into the yard yesterday.”

“Impertinent creature!” exclaimed the Portuguese duck, “would you compare me with the cat, that beast of prey? There’s not a drop of malicious blood in me. I’ve taken your part, and will teach you good manners.”

And so saying, she bit off the singing bird’s head, and he lay dead on the ground.

“Now, what’s the meaning of this?” she said, “could he not bear even that? Then certainly he was not made for this world. I’ve been like a mother to him I know that, for I’ve a good heart.”

Then the neighbour’s cock stuck his head into the yard, and crowed with steam-engine power.

“You’ll kill me with your crowing!” she cried. “It’s all your fault. He’s lost his head, and I am very near losing mine.”

“There’s not much lying where he fell!” observed the cock.

“Speak of him with respect,” retorted the Portuguese duck, “for he had song, manners, and education. He was affectionate and soft, and that’s as good in animals, as in your so-called human beings.”

And all the ducks came crowding round the little dead singing bird. Ducks have strong passions, whether they feel envy or pity; and as there was nothing here to envy, pity manifested itself, even in the two Chinese.

“We shall never get such a singing bird again; he was almost a Chinese,” they whispered, and they wept with a mighty clucking sound, and all the fowls clucked too; but the ducks went about with the redder eyes.

“We’ve hearts of our own,” they said; “nobody can deny that.”

“Hearts!” repeated the Portuguese, “yes, that we have, almost as much as in Portugal.”

“Let us think of getting something to satisfy our hunger,” said the drake, “for that’s the most important point. If one of our toys is broken, why, we have plenty more!”