The brown horse stood quietly while Mr. Freeman and the girls got out of the chaise.
“Stay here a moment,” said Mr. Freeman, and he walked back toward the tree and threw a small round stone at the nest. It hit the mark, but no angry wasps appeared. Another stone touched it more forcibly, and, when the third failed to bring a single wasp from the nest, Mr. Freeman declared that he knew it was vacant, and cutting a branch from a slender birch tree with his pocket-knife, which he speedily made into a smooth pole, he managed to secure the nest without damaging it and brought it proudly back to show to Rose and Anne, neither of whom had ever seen one before.
“It’s just like paper,” said Anne admiringly, touching it carefully.
“That’s just what it is,” said Mr. Freeman. “I expect men learned from wasps how to make paper. For wasps go to work in a very business-like way. They chew up dead and crumbling wood and spread it out smoothly, and when it dries and hardens there is a sheet of paper, all ready to be used as one of the layers for this dry warm nest. Men make paper by grinding up wood or linen rags.”
“You can put the nest in our lunch-basket, father,” said Rose. “Frederick and Millicent will think it the most wonderful thing they have ever seen.”
Frederick and Millicent were Rose’s younger brother and sister. Frederick was about Anne’s age, but little Millicent was only six years old.
Lady turned her head as if to ask why they were lingering so far from a good stable; and Rose and Anne stopped a moment before getting in the chaise to rub her soft nose and tell her that she would soon be in Sandwich and should have a good feed of oats for her dinner.