Funny Frank (7 page)

gave her the idea. She could — she
would
—make a pair of artificial webbed feet out of the rubber gloves. I'll put something inside the fingers and thumbs to stiffen them, she said to herself, to help Frank walk (or waddle, rather) on dry land. Then I'll get a sheet of something solid — plywood perhaps, no, plastic, that'll be lighter—and I'll cut out two
pieces the shape of a duck's foot and fix one inside each glove like a sort of insole. Then all we shall have to do is stick Frank's feet inside and tape the cuff of each glove around his legs so that no water can get in, and hey presto! Frank will have webbed feet!

Chapter Seven

One of Jemima's jobs about the farm was to shut up the hens and the ducks in their respective houses in the evening, to keep them safe from foxes. She left her mother working on the artificial webbed feet and went out into the orchard.

Sleepy murmurs from the henhouse told her that the flock had already gone to bed, and automatically she bent to close the pophole when she thought, Oh, Frank! Is he inside? She opened the door of the henhouse. He wasn't.

She went to the duckhouse, outside which several ducks and the big white drake were still pottering about, preening and gabbling softly to one another.

Jemima hooshed them into the house and looked inside, to see all the ducks and all the ducklings—but no Frank.

Quickly she shut the duckhouse door and ran to the duck pond. There, still floating happily out in the middle, was Frank.

When the ducks had begun to leave the pond and waddle away toward the duck-house, Frank had been in no hurry to follow. He had become rather hot, wearing as he was a rubber suit over his plumage, and now floating on the nice cold water as the heat went out of the day and the sun sank was so refreshing.

“You coming, chick?” the ducklings called out as they swam past, following their mother.“It's time for beddy-byes.”

“I think I'll stay here for a bit,” Frank replied.“I'm enjoying it.”

“Wicked, man!” they said. “Let's just hope that someone else doesn't enjoy
you
.”

“Who?” asked Frank.

“Mr. Fox!” cried the ducklings, and they scuttered off.

For a while Frank continued to float about on the pond, trying to decide what to do. Surely I'll be safe out in the middle here, he thought. Foxes can't swim—can they? Just then he heard his name called.

“Frank!” cried Jemima. “Come off the pond, you silly boy.”

When he made no move, she found a long stick and waded in till the water was near the tops of her wellies, then reached out and managed to hook Frank with the stick and pull him to shore. Jemima picked him up and carried him to the henhouse, but when she went to open the door, he kicked and struggled and squawked and shouted, “Frank!” in an angry voice. So she took him to the duck-house. As soon as she opened its door, he jumped out of her arms and rushed in.

When she had closed the door, Jemima listened for a moment. Inside, the ducks were gabbling quietly and the ducklings
peep-peeping, in a show of welcome, she thought.

In reply her young cockerel said his name several times.

Strange, Jemima thought. It's beginning to sound more like “Quack!” than “Frank!”

“What d'you think of these, then, Tom?” said Carrie Tabb to her husband, holding out the results of her handiwork.

The farmer picked one up and inspected it. “By golly, that's a duck's foot and a half,” he said.“Grand pair of flippers they'll make.”

“More like galoshes really,” said Jemima's mother. “Don't forget that Frank has to be able to walk in them as well as swim in them.”

“When are you going to fit them on him?”

“Tomorrow morning. Jemima can
catch Frank when she lets the hens out.”

“No, she can't,” said Jemima, coming in.“He wouldn't go to bed with the hens.

He's in the duckhouse. Anyway, why must I catch him?”

Her mother and father pointed—one with pride, one with amusement—at the strange pair of artificial webbed feet, bright yellow with five stiffened claws (which had been four fingers and a thumb). Inside each rubber glove, a piece of stout plastic had been cut to the shape of a duck's foot.