Meanwhile the young ducks throve apace. Their necks grew glossy,
like changeable green and gold satin, and though they would not take
the doctor's medicine, and would waddle in the mud and water--for
which they always felt themselves to be very naughty ducks--yet they
grew quite vigorous and hearty. At last one day the whole little
tribe waddled off down to the bank of the river. It was a beautiful
day, and the river was dancing and dimpling and winking as the little
breezes shook the trees that hung over it.

"Well," said the biggest of the little ducks, "in spite of Dr.
Peppercorn, I can't help longing for the water. I don't believe it
is going to hurt me; at any rate, here goes," and in he plumped, and
in went every duck after him, and they threw out their great brown
feet as cleverly as if they had taken swimming lessons all their
lives, and sailed off on the river, away, away among the ferns, under
the pink azaleas, through reeds and rushes, and arrow-heads and
pickerel-weed, the happiest ducks that ever were born; and soon they
were quite out of sight.

"Well, Mrs. Feathertop, this is a dispensation!" said Mrs.
Scratchard. "Your children are all drowned at last, just as I knew
they'd be. The old music-teacher, Master Bullfrog, that lives down
in Water-Dock Lane, saw 'em all plump madly into the water together
this morning. That's what comes of not knowing how to bring up a
family!"

Mrs. Feathertop gave only one shriek and fainted dead away, and was
carried home on a cabbage-leaf; and Mr. Gray Cock was sent for, where
he was waiting on Mrs. Red Comb through the squash-vines.