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"
Where
HAVE
you
been
?
"
shouted
Peter
,
from
the
top
of
the
yard
wall
where
he
and
Phyllis
were
.
"
To
the
station
,
of
course
,
"
said
Bobbie
;
"
give
us
a
hand
,
Pete
.
"
She
set
her
foot
on
the
lock
of
the
yard
door
.
Peter
reached
down
a
hand
.
"
What
on
earth
?
"
she
asked
as
she
reached
the
wall-top
--
for
Phyllis
and
Peter
were
very
muddy
.
A
lump
of
wet
clay
lay
between
them
on
the
wall
,
they
had
each
a
slip
of
slate
in
a
very
dirty
hand
,
and
behind
Peter
,
out
of
the
reach
of
accidents
,
were
several
strange
rounded
objects
rather
like
very
fat
sausages
,
hollow
,
but
closed
up
at
one
end
.
"
It
's
nests
,
"
said
Peter
,
"
swallows
'
nests
.
We
're
going
to
dry
them
in
the
oven
and
hang
them
up
with
string
under
the
eaves
of
the
coach-house
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
Phyllis
;
"
and
then
we
're
going
to
save
up
all
the
wool
and
hair
we
can
get
,
and
in
the
spring
we
'll
line
them
,
and
then
how
pleased
the
swallows
will
be
!
"
"
I
've
often
thought
people
do
n't
do
nearly
enough
for
dumb
animals
,
"
said
Peter
with
an
air
of
virtue
.
"
I
do
think
people
might
have
thought
of
making
nests
for
poor
little
swallows
before
this
.
"
"
Oh
,
"
said
Bobbie
,
vaguely
,
"
if
everybody
thought
of
everything
,
there
'd
be
nothing
left
for
anybody
else
to
think
about
.
"
"
Look
at
the
nests
--
are
n't
they
pretty
?
"
said
Phyllis
,
reaching
across
Peter
to
grasp
a
nest
.
"
Look
out
,
Phil
,
you
goat
,
"
said
her
brother
.
But
it
was
too
late
;
her
strong
little
fingers
had
crushed
the
nest
.
