night. A pair of swallows are building a nest here in the hall.
You've got to be careful you don't mistake it for a hat-peg. The old
lady says they have built there regularly for the last three years."

Then it came to me what it was the gentleman had been saying to me:
"I say, sir, you with the bit of wood in your mouth, you have been
and shut the door and I can't get in."

Now, with the key in my possession, it was so clear and
understandable, I really forgot for the moment he was only a bird.

"I beg your pardon," I replied, "I had no idea. Such an
extraordinary place to build a nest."

I opened the door for him, and, taking up his brick again, he
entered, and I followed him in. There was a deal of talk.

"He shut the door," I heard him say, "Chap there, sucking the bit of
wood. Thought I was never going to get in."

"I know," was the answer; "it has been so dark in here, if you'll
believe me, I've hardly been able to see what I've been doing."

"Fine brick, isn't it? Where will you have it?"

Observing me sitting there, they lowered their voices. Evidently she
wanted him to put the brick down and leave her to think. She was not
quite sure where she would have it. He, on the other hand, was sure
he had found the right place for it. He pointed it out to her and
explained his views. Other birds quarrel a good deal during nest