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 don'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—aren'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.
"There now," said Peter.
"Never mind," said Bobbie.
