1. Nottie Steps on Webbie's Feet
It was a pleasant spring afternoon. In Shadyside Woods, the flowers were
dancing, the monkeys were chattering and the ducks were quacking. A few
ducks were splashing water at Shallow Pond.
"Stop splashing the water all over me," pleaded Webbie, annoyed at the
other ducks. The ducks ignored Webbie's request and continued the splashing.
Webbie decided it was best to keep safe distance from the other ducks.
So, she waded to the edge of the pond and got out of the water. She shrugged
her shoulders and ruffled her feathers to get the water off them.
Just when she thought she was safe and dry, she suddenly felt something heavy
on her back. The weight seemed to crush her.
"Quack! Quack! Quack! Ouch!" screamed Webbie, in pain.
"Sorry! Sorry! I am really very, very sorry," said a little voice. Webbie
turned in the direction of the voice, still a bit dizzy from the sudden
impact.
Webbie saw a little boy shivering with fright. The next moment, the little
boy started sobbing loudly.
"Oh! Stop sobbing and remove that stuff off my back," said Webbie, in
great pain.
The sobbing stopped immediately, and the little boy quickly got the weight
off Webbie's back.
"Step off my feet. You are crushing them," yelled Webbie, still in great
pain. Webbie felt relieved when the little boy got his big shoe off her
feet.
"Why did you do that to me?" asked Webbie, staring intently.
The little boy had been very silent for a while. "I didn't do that on
purpose," said the poor little boy, finding his voice again.
"I was riding my bicycle, when I suddenly slipped and fell."
Webbie saw a blue bicycle lying a little distance from her. So, that's what
had fallen on her back. She looked up at the little boy, only to find big
tears rolling down his cheeks.
Webbie realized that it was truly a mistake. Her kind heart forgave the
little boy. "Well, please stop crying," said Webbie, in a soft tone.
"Are you hurt?"
"I guess not," said the little boy, dusting some of the mud off his clothes.
"You shouldn't cycle too close to the edge of the pond. It's always very
slippery, you see."
"Now I see why my mom had warned me not to go near the pond," said the little boy.
"You should listen to your mother," said Webbie, in a stern voice.
"You have been naughty, haven't you? What's your name?"
"Norton," answered the little boy. "Norton Newton!"
Webbie was starting to get very fond of the cute little boy. She had not
met anyone like him before. After a moment's thought, her eyes suddenly
opened wide. There was a twinkle in them.
"You are Nottie, my friend. N-O-T-T-I-E," exclaimed Webbie, spelling the
name letter-by-letter. "Do you know why?"
Webbie was excited. Without waiting for a reply, she continued,"Because
today you have been naughty -- and Nottie rhymes with Webbie."
There was a puzzled look on the little boy's face. Webbie was quick to
notice the change in the expression.
"Do you mind my calling you Nottie?" asked Webbie, with concern in her voice.
"Oh, nobody has ever called me Nottie before," replied the little boy.
"I like the name, Nottie. You may call me Nottie if you wish. But, who is
Webbie?"
"Silly me!" said Webbie, realizing suddenly that she had not introduced
herself. "Webbie is my name. I live on the World Wide Web -- and
I have webbed feet, you see."
Webbie tried to stand up tall to show her webbed feet to Nottie.
Suddenly, she let out a loud scream. She was in great pain.
"What's happened to my feet?" screamed Webbie. "I can't stand up at all."
Nottie stared at Webbie. His eyes nearly popped out when he saw a pool of
blood near Webbie's feet.
"Your feet are badly hurt," said Nottie, with guilt in his voice. "It's
all my fault. I stepped on your feet with my big black leather shoe.
You need some medicine immediately."
Nottie had barely finished the sentence. He rushed to his blue bicycle
and picked it up. He jumped on it and started pedalling at a fierce pace
down the path.
"Wait! Wait!" shouted Webbie.
But, it was too late. Nottie had taken off on his bicycle at such
tremendous speed that he had disappeared into the woods.
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