The Gray Goose's Story Part 7

"Indeed I have," Mrs. Goose replied quickly. "Surely I ought to know all about her, for she was a great-great-grandmother of mine, and if I'm not mistaken, some of our family have her picture which Mr. Ape painted, when he set himself up as an artist. That is another case where discontent, when matters were going on as well as ever could have been expected, brought its punishment."

"How can that be?" your Aunt Amy asked quickly. "The man killed the goose which was bringing in so much gold, and it surely seems as if she received the most severe punishment."

"That would be right if the story, as Mr. Man tells it, was true," Mrs.

Goose said sharply; "but it is not, and however it got so twisted I can't for the life of me understand. Now if that goose was my great-great-grandmother, I ought to know all about it, and I do, for I've heard Grandfather White Goose tell it more times than I've got feathers in my left wing.

"Would you like to know how it all really happened? Well, I'll tell you, and remember that I'm the one among all others on this farm who should know the exact truth. She was a gray goose, the one who laid the eggs, and looked very much like me, so grandfather says. The Mr. Man where she lived was very kind, and actually gave her a bedroom in his own house.

No matter what she wanted to eat, he bought it for her, and all the eggs she laid he spread out on a kind of desk or table which had been built especially for them.

"Every morning when she had laid the egg, Mr. Man took her into the room where they were all spread out, and let her see him put it safely away.

"Now, so grandfather says, Mrs. Goose was petted so much, and had so many good things to eat, that she began to believe she was something wonderful, and I really suppose she was, being the only bird that ever laid golden eggs. But she got all puffed up with pride, and thought she ought to live without doing any kind of work, so one day while she was watching Mr. Man take care of the eggs, she saw a big knife hanging up, and asked why it was kept there.

"'I did have it to kill geese with; but now, since you're the only goose I want, it isn't used.' Mr. Man said, and Mrs. Goose asked:

"'Is it sharp?'

"'Oh dear, yes, just like a razor,' Mr. Man said, still looking at the eggs.

"'Well, do you know I'm tired of doing so much work,' foolish Mrs. Goose said, 'and I've been thinking that you might fix things so I wouldn't be tied down to this egg-laying every day. Surely _I_ ought to live in comfort.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Goose watches Mr. Man as he takes the golden eggs out of the basket.]

"'That is what I intend you shall be able to do,' Mr. Man answered, for he wanted to keep her contented. 'Is there anything more you need, Mrs.

Goose?'

"'I want to live without doing any kind of work,' Mrs. Goose said, as if she was the most abused bird in the world.

"'But then how could we get these beautiful eggs?' Mr. Man cried.

'Surely you take as much pleasure in them as I do!

"'All that may be; but it is a great exertion to lay one every day, and no sooner is the work finished than I think of the same task to be done on the morrow, until I'm on the verge of nervous prostration,' and Mrs.

Goose waddled up and down the room as if she was a living skeleton, instead of the fattest bird that ever walked.

"'But what can I do, my dear creature?' Mr. Man cried in real distress, for he was afraid she might refuse to lay any more golden eggs, and that would have nearly broken his heart.

"'Why not take that knife and cut through my feathers till you find an egg. I am quite fat on my stomach, and it wouldn't do me the least little bit of harm. Then all I'd have to do would be to come in here, and let you take the egg out.'

"Well, Mr. Man said everything he could think of to persuade the foolish goose that it was best to let well enough alone; but she coaxed and scolded, and finally declared flatly that unless he did as she wanted, she'd go out of the egg business entirely.

"Of course, after that, Mr. Man couldn't do any less than what she asked for, and although he used the knife very carefully, Mrs. Goose died before he found a single egg. Now that is the truth of the story, as my grandfather tells it," Mrs. Gray Goose continued, "and there is no question in my mind but that it is as true as the one you have heard so many times."

"It surely seems more reasonable," your Aunt Amy said thoughtfully, "for n.o.body but a goose could have even dreamed that it would be best to cut a bird open to get at the eggs more quickly."

"That is very true," Mrs. Gray Goose replied; "but you must bear in mind that we who wear feathers are not the only geese in the world. I could point out a good many who would feel insulted if we claimed relations.h.i.+p with them. Mr. Man's boy Johnny makes a bigger goose of himself than I am, many a time, and it's no longer ago than yesterday, when Mr. Fido Dog showed how near he came to being my cousin."

"Tell me the story," your Aunt Amy suggested, and Mrs. Goose began without delay:

THE RACE BETWEEN MR. FIDO AND MR. SHANGHAI.

"For a good many weeks the birds and animals on this farm have been trying to decide whether the two-footed or the four-footed were the swiftest, and last week, while we were talking the matter over, foolish Mr. Fido Dog said, as he swelled his chest way out:

"'It stands to reason that I could beat Mr. Shanghai in a race. I've got four good feet with spring soles, and he has only two poor scratchers that are all bones and claws. Why, I could easily run from here to the pond, take a drink there, and be home again before he got as far as the fence.'

"'My, how big you talk, just because you're allowed to sleep in the house!' Mr. Shanghai said. 'You forget my wings, Mr. Fido. Perhaps they are worth just a little.'

"'Nonsense!' Mr. Fido said, turning up his lip till he showed a fine set of white teeth, and tilting his puggy nose. 'What good are your wings?

Why, I heard Mr. Man tell his boy Tommy last night that wings were of no use to chickens, except to fly over the fence with.'

"'Well,' said Mr. Shanghai, scratching his topknot with his left claw, and looking wise, 'you see there are times when it's better to be on one side of the fence than the other.'

"'That's a wise remark, Mr. Shanghai,' Mr. Fido snapped. 'You must have a great head; but what good will it do you in a race to the pond? Come on! I'll show you what can be done. Here's where four feet beats two feet--yes, and wings thrown in, if you want them.'

"'What is the course?' Mr. Shanghai asked.

"'A straight line to the pond. Are you ready?'

"'All ready!' said Mr. Shanghai, and off they went.

"It was a close race to the barn-yard fence. Mr. Shanghai ran hard with his neck stretched out; but Mr. Fido went on easily, laughing to think how easy it would be to win.

"But when he came to the fence Mr. Fido stopped. He couldn't get over, and it took quite a while to creep through. He wiggled and pushed anxiously; but Mr. Shanghai, spreading his big wings, flew over, and was at the pond a full minute before Mr. Fido got on the other side of the fence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mr. Shanghai Wins the Race]

"When he went back Mr. Shanghai couldn't help laughing at Mr. Fido, and saying: 'Now you can see that there are times when it is better to be on one side of a fence than another. You're as much out of place in a race with me, as the gosling was in the stork's nest.'"

WHEN MRS. GOOSE'S BABY WASN'T WELCOME.

"What did he mean by that?" your Aunt Amy asked, and Mrs. Goose really laughed as she replied:

"It was a silly trick Mr. Man's boy Tommy played on Mr. and Mrs. Stork, who had built a nest on the top of the farm-house chimney. I had nine babies, while the Storks only hatched out one, and they were all exactly the same age.

"Tommy Boy, who never has work enough to keep him out of mischief, thought it would be very funny to put one of my babies in the Storks'

nest, and leave their little one with me, so he got a ladder, and came very near breaking his bones in order to make the change while Mrs.

Stork was away looking for food.

"When she came back, there was my dear little gosling sitting up on his tail as if he expected to have his picture taken, trying to tell what Tommy had done.