Peter Rabbit was so full of interest in Mrs. Quack and her troubles
that he was back at the Smiling Pool before Mr. Sun had kicked off his
rosy blankets and begun his daily climb up in the blue, blue sky. You
see, he felt that he had heard only a part of Mrs. Quack's story, and
he was dreadfully afraid that she would get away before he could hear
the rest. With the first bit of daylight, Mrs. Quack swam out from her
hiding-place among the brown rushes. It looked to Peter as if she sat
up on the end of her tail as she stretched her neck and wings just as
far as she could, and he wanted to laugh right out. Then she quickly
ducked her head under water two or three times so that the water rolled
down over her back, and again Peter wanted to laugh. But he didn't.
He kept perfectly still. Mrs. Quack shook herself and then began to
carefully dress her feathers. That is, she carefully put back in place
every feather that had been rumpled up. She took a great deal of time
for this, for Mrs. Quack is very neat and tidy and takes the greatest
pride in looking as fine as she can.
Of course it was very impolite of Peter to watch her make her toilet,
but he didn't think of that. He didn't mean to be impolite. And then it
was so interesting. “Huh!” said he to himself, “I don't see what any
one wants to waste so much time on their clothes for.”
You know Peter doesn't waste any time on his clothes. In fact, he
doesn't seem to care a bit how he looks. He hasn't learned yet that it
always pays to be as neat and clean as possible and that you must think
well of yourself if you want others to think well of you.
When at last Mrs. Quack had taken a final shower bath and appeared
satisfied that she was looking her best, Peter opened his mouth to
ask her the questions he was so full of, but closed it again as he
remembered people are usually better natured when their stomachs are
full, and Mrs. Quack had not yet breakfasted. So he waited as patiently
as he could, which wasn't patiently at all. At last Mrs. Quack finished
her breakfast, and then she had to make her toilet all over again.
Finally Peter hopped to the edge of the bank where she would see him.
“Good morning, Mrs. Quack,” said he very politely. “I hope you had a
good rest and are feeling very well this morning.”
“Thank you,” replied Mrs. Quack. “I'm feeling as well as could be
expected. In fact, I'm feeling better than I have felt for some time in
spite of the sore place made by that terrible gun yesterday. You see,
I have had a good rest and two square meals, and these are things I
haven't had since goodness knows when. This is a very nice place. Let
me see, what is it you call it?”
“The Smiling Pool,” said Peter.
“That's a good name for it,” returned Mrs. Quack. “If only I could be
sure that none of those hunters would find me here, and if only Mr.
Quack were here, I would be content to stay a while.” At the mention
of Mr. Quack, the eyes of Mrs. Quack suddenly filled with tears. Peter
felt tears of sympathy in his own eyes.
“Where is Mr. Quack?” he asked.
“I don't know,” sobbed Mrs. Quack. “I wish I did. I haven't seen him
since one of those terrible guns was fired at us over on the Big River
yesterday morning a little while before Little Joe Otter told me about
the Smiling Pool. Ever since we started for our home in the far North,
I have been fearing that something of this kind might happen. I ought
to be on my way there now, but what is the use without Mr. Quack?
Without him, I would be all alone up there and wouldn't have any home.”
“Won't you tell me all that has happened since you started on your long
journey?” asked Peter. “Perhaps some of us can help you.”
“I'm afraid you can't,” replied Mrs. Quack sadly, “but I'll tell you
all about it so that you may know just how thankful you ought to feel
that you do not have to suffer what some of us do.”
X