idle ideas in 1905-第9节

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it　isn't　it　ought　to　be。　　The　second；　that　you　never　lent　it　to　her。
The　third；　that　she　wishes　people　would　not　lend　her　pencils　and　then
clamour　for　them　back；　just　when　she　has　something　else　far　more
important　to　think　about。

〃What　do　you　know　about　babies？〃　she　demanded。

〃If　you　will　read　the　paper；〃　I　replied；　〃you　will　see　for　yourself。
It's　all　there。〃

She　flicked　over　the　pages　contemptuously。

〃There　doesn't　seem　much　of　it？〃　she　retorted。

〃It　is　condensed；〃　I　pointed　out　to　her。

〃I　am　glad　it　is　short。　　All　right；　I'll　read　it；〃　she　agreed。

I　thought　my　presence　might　disturb　her；　so　went　out　into　the　garden。
I　wanted　her　to　get　the　full　benefit　of　it。　　I　crept　back　now　and
again　to　peep　through　the　open　window。　　She　did　not　seem　to　be　making
many　notes。　　But　I　heard　her　making　little　noises　to　herself。　　When　I
saw　she　had　reached　the　last　page；　I　re…entered　the　room。

〃Well？〃　I　said。

〃Is　it　meant　to　be　funny；〃　she　demanded；　〃or　is　it　intended　to　be
taken　seriously？〃

〃There　may　be　flashes　of　humour　here　and　there〃

She　did　not　wait　for　me　to　finish。

〃Because　if　it's　meant　to　be　funny；〃　she　said；　〃I　don't　think　it　is
at　all　funny。　　And　if　it　is　intended　to　be　serious；　there's　one　thing
very　clear；　and　that　is　that　you　are　not　a　mother。〃

With　the　unerring　instinct　of　the　born　critic　she　had　divined　my　one
weak　point。　　Other　objections　raised　against　me　I　could　have　met。
But　that　one　stinging　reproach　was　unanswerable。　　It　has　made　me；　as
I　have　explained；　chary　of　tendering　advice　on　matters　outside　my　own
department　of　life。　　Otherwise；　every　year；　about　Valentine's　day；
there　is　much　that　I　should　like　to　say　to　my　good　friends　the　birds。
I　want　to　put　it　to　them　seriously。　　Is　not　the　month　of　February
just　a　little　too　early？　　Of　course；　their　answer　would　be　the　same
as　in　the　case　of　my　motherly　friend。

〃Oh；　what　do　you　know　about　it？　you　are　not　a　bird。〃

I　know　I　am　not　a　bird；　but　that　is　the　very　reason　why　they　should
listen　to　me。　　I　bring　a　fresh　mind　to　bear　upon　the　subject。　　I　am
not　tied　down　by　bird　convention。　　February；　my　dear　friendsin
these　northern　climes　of　ours　at　all　eventsis　much　too　early。　　You
have　to　build　in　a　high　wind；　and　nothing；　believe　me；　tries　a　lady's
temper　more　than　being　blown　about。　　Nature　is　nature；　and　womenfolk；
my　dear　sirs；　are　the　same　all　the　world　over；　whether　they　be　birds
or　whether　they　be　human。　　I　am　an　older　person　than　most　of　you；　and
I　speak　with　the　weight　of　experience。

If　I　were　going　to　build　a　house　with　my　wife；　I　should　not　choose　a
season　of　the　year　when　the　bricks　and　planks　and　things　were　liable
to　be　torn　out　of　her　hand；　her　skirts　blown　over　her　head；　and　she
left　clinging　for　dear　life　to　a　scaffolding　pole。　　I　know　the
feminine　biped　and；　you　take　it　from　me；　that　is　not　her　notion　of　a
honeymoon。　　In　April　or　May；　the　sun　shining；　the　air　balmywhen；
after　carrying　up　to　her　a　load　or　two　of　bricks；　and　a　hod　or　two　of
mortar；　we　could　knock　off　work　for　a　few　minutes　without　fear　of　the
whole　house　being　swept　away　into　the　next　streetcould　sit　side　by
side　on　the　top　of　a　wall；　our　legs　dangling　down；　and　peck　and
morsel　together；　after　which　I　could　whistle　a　bit　to　herthen
housebuilding　might　be　a　pleasure。

The　swallows　are　wisest；　June　is　their　idea；　and　a　very　good　idea；
too。　　In　a　mountain　village　in　the　Tyrol；　early　one　summer；　I　had　the
opportunity　of　watching　very　closely　the　building　of　a　swallow's
nest。　　After　coffee；　the　first　morning；　I　stepped　out　from　the　great；
cool；　dark　passage　of　the　wirtschaft　into　the　blazing　sunlight；　and；
for　no　particular　reason；　pulled…to　the　massive　door　behind　me。
While　filling　my　pipe；　a　swallow　almost　brushed　by　me；　then　wheeled
round　again；　and　took　up　a　position　on　the　fence　only　a　few　yards
from　me。　　He　was　carrying　what　to　him　was　an　exceptionally　large　and
heavy　brick。　　He　put　it　down　beside　him　on　the　fence；　and　called　out
something　which　I　could　not　understand。　　I　did　not　move。　　He　got
quite　excited　and　said　some　more。　　It　was　undoubtable　he　was
addressing　menobody　else　was　by。　　I　judged　from　his　tone　that　he
was　getting　cross　with　me。　　At　this　point　my　travelling　companion；
his　toilet　unfinished；　put　his　head　out　of　the　window　just　above　me。

〃Such　an　odd　thing；〃　he　called　down　to　me。　　〃I　never　noticed　it　last
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
building；　but　swallows　are　the　gentlest　of　little　people。　　She　let
him　put　it　where　he　wanted　to；　and　he　kissed　her　and　ran　out。　　She
cocked　her　eye　after　him；　watched　till　he　was　out　of　sight；　then
deftly　and　quickly　slipped　it　out　and　fixed　it　the　other　side　of　the
door。

〃Poor　dears〃　（I　could　see　it　in　the　toss　of　her　head）；　〃they　will
think　they　know　best；　it　is　just　as　well　not　to　argue　with　them。〃

Every　summer　I　suffer　much　from　indignation。　　I　love　to　watch　the
swallows　building。　　They　build　beneath　the　eaves　outside　my　study
window。　　Such　cheerful　little　chatter…boxes　they　are。　　Long　after
sunset；　when　all　the　other　birds　are　sleeping；　the　swallows　still　are
chattering　softly。　　It　sounds　as　if　they　were　telling　one　another
some　pretty　story；　and　often　I　am　sure　there　must　be　humour　in　it；
for　every　now　and　then　one　hears　a　little　twittering　laugh。　　I
delight　in　having　them　there；　so　close　to　me。　　The　fancy　comes　to　me
that　one　day；　when　my　brain　has　grown　more　cunning；　I；　too；　listening
in　the　twilight；　shall　hear　the　stories　that　they　tell。

One　or　two　phrases　already　I　have　come　to　understand：　　〃Once　upon　a
time〃〃Long；　long　ago〃〃In　a　strange；　far…off　land。〃　　I　hear　these
words　so　constantly；　I　am　sure　I　have　them　right。　　I　call　it　〃Swallow
Street；〃　this　row　of　six　or　seven　nests。　　Two　or　three；　like　villas
in　their　own　grounds；　stand　alone；　and　others　are　semi…detached。　　It
makes　me　angry　that　the　sparrows　will　come　and　steal　them。　　The
sparrows　will　hang　about　deliberately　waiting　for　a　pair　of　swallows
to　finish　their　nest；　and　then；　with　a　brutal　laugh　that　makes　my
blood　boil；　drive　the　swallows　away　and　take　possession　of　it。　　And
the　swallows　are　so　wonderfully　patient。

〃Never　mind；　old　girl；〃　says　Tommy　Swallow；　after　the　first　big　cry
is　over；　to　Jenny　Swallow；　〃let's　try　again。〃

And　half　an　hour　later；　full　of　fresh　plans；　they　are　choosing
another　likely　site；　chattering　cheerfully　once　more。　　I　watched　the
building　of　a　particular　nest　for　nearly　a　fortnight　one　year；　and
when；　after　two　or　three　days'　absence；　I　returned　and　found　a　pair
of　sparrows　comfortably　encsonced　therein；　I　just　felt　mad。　　I　saw
Mrs。　Sparrow　looking　out。　　Maybe　my　anger　was　working　upon　my
imagination；　but　it　seemed　to　me　that　she　nodded　to　me：

〃Nice　little　house；　ain't　it？　　What　I　call　well　built。〃

Mr。　Sparrow　then　flew　up　with　a　gaudy　feather；　dyed　blue；　which
belonged　to　me。　　I　recognised　it。　　It　had　come　out　of　the　brush　with
which　the　girl　breaks　the　china　ornaments　in　our　drawing…room。　　At
any　other　time　I　should　have　been　glad　to　see　him　flying　off　with　the
whole　thing；　handle　included。　　But　now　I　felt　the　theft　of　that　one
feather　as　an　added　injury。　　Mrs。　Sparrow　chirped　with　delight　at
sight　of　the　gaudy　monstrosity。　　Having　got　the　house　cheap；　they
were　going　to　spend　their　small　amount　of　energy　upon　internal
decoration。　　That　was　their　idea　clearly；　a　〃Liberty　interior。〃　　She
looked　more　like　a　Cockney　sparrow　than　a　country　onehad　been　born
and　bred　in　Regent　Street；　no　doubt。

〃There　is　not　much　justice　in　this　world；〃　said　I　to　myself；　〃but
there's　going　to　be　some　introduced　into　this　businessthat　is；　if　I
can　find　a　ladder。〃

I　did　find　a　ladder；　and　fortunately　it　was　long　enough。　　Mr。　and
Mrs。　Sparrow　were　out　when　I　arrived；　possibly　on　the　hunt　for　cheap
photo　frames　and　Japanese　fans。　　I　did　not　want　to　make　a　mess。　　I
removed　the　house　neat