Upon the strip of
back-lawn below, the swallows, who had been chattering so loudly
overhead, stood in an active group. Clutching the cold iron bars, and
resting his chin upon the topmost one, he watched them. He had never
before seen swallows on the ground like that; he associated them with
the upper sky. It was odd to see them standing instead of flying;
their behaviour seemed not quite normal; there was commotion of an
unusual kind among them. A grey cat, stalking them warily down the
stable path, came near yet did not trouble them; they felt no alarm.
They strutted about like a lot of black-frocked parsons at a congress;
they looked as if they had hands tucked behind their pointed coat-
tails. They were talking among themselves--discussing something. And
from time to time they shot upward glances at the window just above
them--at himself.
"I believe they want me to look at something or other," the boy
thought vaguely. It seemed as if he had picked them out of a dream and
put them there upon the lawn. He felt dazed and happy; he had been
dreaming of curious wild things. Where was he? What had happened? "It
feels just like something coming," he decided, "or somebody.
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