Cheney Duvall sat at her window, waiting. She looked out the window. She looked at the clock. Window. Clock. Window. Clock.
"He's dreadfully late," she whined.
"He's probably buying you flowers," Victoria assured her. "He shall be here. He better be here. I stayed to hear him sing. Especially under a trellis. There is something special about singing under a trellis…"
"Do get over it, Victoria. We can't both be madly in love with Bain. It simply won't do." A glance out the window again revealed an empty yard.
"I suppose I shall simply have to make Dev sing under a trellis for me," Victoria sighed.
They sat in silence for a while, contemplating Bain and Dev and trellises.
Suddenly there was a sound. Cheney threw the window open and leaned out.
"Five little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away! Mama Duck said, 'Quack quack quack quack!' Four little ducks came waddling back!"
Time seemed to stop. Cheney stared at Victoria, her mouth open and her eyes wide. Victoria had a look of confusion on her face. Below them, Bain kept singing, now adding hand motions.
"Four little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away! Mama Duck said 'Quack quack quack quack!' Three little ducks came waddling back!"
Cheney began to say something, stopped, began again, and hesitated. Finally she managed, "Is he calling me a –duck-?"
Victoria, still stunned by the choice of songs (and by the fact that Bain Winlslow was dancing around the yard doing coordinating hand motions) coughed and said, "I – um – maybe he's saying…he wants to have five ducklings. Er, children. And – lose them. Over the hills and far away. Oh, horrors. That's not much better."
"BAIN FERDINAND WINSLOW!" Cheney shouted out the window. "Are you calling me a duck?!"
"Cheney my love!" he called up to her. "Do you like the song?"
"You – I – hmph!" She indignantly slammed the window shut and disappeared inside.
Bain stared up at her in confusion. He glanced back at where Christian was hiding in the bushes.
"Three little ducks," Christian prompted, and pointed up the trellis.
"Have you been sniffin' the exhaust?!" Bain exclaimed. "I can't climb up-"
"Go!"
Bain went, muttering under his breath. He reached the trellis and began climbing up. Right foot, left foot, right foot…
"Three little ducks went out one day…"
There was a sickening creaking sound. Cheney and Victoria ran to the window.
"Shiloh built that trellis! It's not sturdy! Get off!" Cheney shrieked as the entire trellis wrenched free from the wall and fell backwards, taking Bain with it. There was a crash. Cheney and Victoria hurried downstairs and out to the yard.
Bain Winslow was lying pinned under the trellis, mumbling something about eight-thousand pound prairie dogs. Cheney hurried over to him and dumped carbolic acid on his head, saying, "I'm a doctor, this will make you better."
"Maybe…we should move the trellis off of him," Victoria ventured, not wanting to sound contrary. She wasn't a doctor, after all.
"Oh. Oh, yes, perhaps we should."
Victoria, Cheney, and Christian lifted the trellis off of Bain.
"Ugh," Bain groaned, getting up. "Why does my head hurt so much?"
"Cows," Christian said matter-of-factly.
Bain nodded absently, then made a face. "Cows?!" he exclaimed, entirely lost as to the turn the conversation had taken.
"Well, it MIGHT!"
Cheney and Victoria stared, a bit confused.
"Aren't cows…a 'they?'" Victoria finally said.
"Not –these- cows," said Christian informatively.
"Oh," she said.
Bain got down on one knee in front of Cheney. "Cheney, my love, marry me!"
Cheney pulled her hand out of his grasp. "You called me a duck!" she retorted. "What was that supposed to mean?!"
"No," Bain desperately tried to explain, "I was singing to you. Singing! Just as we'd planned!"
"About a duck!" she said mournfully.
"But – it wasn't – it was all –his- idea!" Bain pointed at Christian, who grinned endearingly at Cheney.
"I don't think you look like a duck," he said.
"Oh…well…thank you," she said, finding him quite charming. She turned back to Bain. "Bain Winslow! I could kill you…"
"Your trellis nearly did, Cheney dear. Please, let's not relive that experience. Let's put the past behind us, forget the ducky song, and go on with things as we planned. We'll get married and live happily ever after!"
Cheney was looking at him warily.
"Quick!" Victoria suddenly cried. "Shiloh! Here!"
"WHAT?"
"Shiloh's coming! We have to leave!"
The foursome hurried away as Shiloh, awakened by a nightmare about his trellis falling apart, wandered over to study the wreckage.
"My poor trellis," he sobbed, picking up the broken pieces. "I should have gotten here sooner. I knew you were in trouble." He clutched the trellis and cried.