DUCKEY DADDLES

Duckey Daddles loved to swim. Every day he begged Mrs. Duck to take him down to the Old Mill Pond. But she couldn't take him there every day, for there were lots of things to attend to at home. Besides, it was quite a long way, and she wasn't fond of walking.

So one day Duckey Daddles made up his mind to go alone. Off he went on his floppy yellow feet, wabbly, wabbly down the road, under the Old Snake Fence and then across the Pleasant Meadow till he reached the Old Mill Pond.

Sitting very still on his log was Old Uncle Bullfrog. He was half asleep, with his hands folded across his white and yellow waistcoat. He had just eaten a lot of nice green flies and was feeling very contented.

"Quack! quack! hip! hurray!" cried Duckey Daddles, flapping his wings.

Then he jumped in, spattering water all over Old Uncle Bullfrog.

"Take care, there!" said Old Uncle Bullfrog, waking up and wiping his yellow-rimmed spectacles. But Duckey Daddles didn't hear him. He was standing on his head in the water, gobbling up little fish.

"What's the use of going home for lunch? I've had mine already!" he cried. And off he swam around the Old Mill Pond. Suddenly there was a loud splash. Duckey Daddles turned to see what was the matter. On the bank stood a number of boys. Duckey Daddles ducked just in time to get out of the way of a stone that splashed in the water close beside him.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Swim, you little side-wheeler!" shouted the boys, and another stone fell uncomfortably near him.

"Any port in a storm," he said to himself, remembering a story he had once heard about his great-great-grandfather, Admiral Drake. And Duckey Daddles paddled straight for a little cove behind a clump of trees.

It was nearly dark when he finally reached home, for he had to wait a long time before the boys left the Old Mill Pond.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Duckey Daddles, where have you been?" asked Mamma Duck.

"Come over here!" cried his father, laying down the Duckville "Evening Quack." "What has kept you out so late?"

Duckey Daddles told the truth, and when he had finished, Daddy Duck said, "Duckey Daddles, I won't punish you because you've told the truth.

But next time look out! I shan't ask any questions."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE COASTING PARTY

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The hill was fine for coasting, The snow was well packed down, And Sammy Black and Margie White, And little Billy Brown,

And also pretty Winnie Green And graceful Gertie Gray-- Now, please, my little readers, Don't imagine what I say

Means really that these boys and girls Were painted all this way; If so, such colored children Would be a bit too gay!

Their fathers' names were Mr. Black, Or Mr. White, or Mr. Brown; And, funny, too, it was Greenville The name they called the town.

Well, just as I was saying, The coasting was immense, And after school the boys and girls Were ready to commence.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The sleds were in a big, long row, All tied together, too, As Sammy Black lay down to steer The merry-making crew.

He didn't seem to mind the wind That o'er the snowdrifts blew, That made his cheeks so bright and red, His stubby nose so blue!

"Come on, you fellers; hurry up!

Quick, girls, get on your sled!

And push against the other ones, I'm fixed to go ahead!"

The last sled little Billy Brown Then pushed with all his might, And down the hill the train of sleds Began its snowy flight.

Such yells and cries! and "Hold on tight!

Don't drag your feet! Keep still!

Don't lean so far upon the right, Or else we'll have a spill!"

Each face was beaming with delight, Each voice was loud and shrill, The train was going all its might And nearly down the hill.

Just as they reached the bottom, The front sled gave a swing, And plump into a big snowdrift They went like anything!

The Blacks were mixed up with the Whites, The Browns on top of Green, A sort of coast kaleidoscope, With sleds stuck in between.

And when they all were sorted out, No easy thing to do, They found that almost every boy And girl was black and blue!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: PETER, PETER, PUMPKIN EATER PUB. BY NAT. ART CO., N. Y.]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

A frog he would a-wooing go In a very stylish way, So he bought a frogmobile, you know, And the lady frog said "Yea!"

THE HOBBY HORSE

[Ill.u.s.tration]

p.u.s.s.y Cat, p.u.s.s.y Cat on a fine horse Is galloping off for Raspberry Cross.

When he gets there if he says "Please, Ma'am,"

A lady will give him some raspberry jam.