The boy was mighty
glad that they could fly away from the island. He was conscience-stricken
on account of the gray goose, and had not cared to tell the goosey-gander
how it had turned out when he had tried to cure her. It would probably be
best if Morten goosey-gander never found out about this, he thought,
though he wondered, at the same time, how the white one had the heart to
leave the gray goose.
But suddenly the goosey-gander turned. The thought of the young gray
goose had overpowered him. It could go as it would with the Lapland
trip: he couldn't go with the others when he knew that she lay alone and
ill, and would starve to death.
With a few wing-strokes he was over the stone pile; but then, there lay
no young gray goose between the stones. "Dunfin! Dunfin! Where art
thou?" called the goosey-gander.
"The fox has probably been here and taken her," thought the boy. But at
that moment he heard a pretty voice answer the goosey-gander. "Here am
I, goosey-gander; here am I! I have only been taking a morning bath."
And up from the water came the little gray goose--fresh and in good
trim--and told how Thumbietot had pulled her wing into place, and that
she was entirely well, and ready to follow them on the journey.
The drops of water lay like pearl-dew on her shimmery satin-like
feathers, and Thumbietot thought once again that she was a real little
princess.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187