Suddenly Father Thrift heard something go, “Splash-sh! splash-sh! splash! splash!” almost beside him.
Then he heard a voice calling from the water.
“Father Thrift,” it said, “you have never visited us. Won’t you take your canoe and come now?”
And Father Thrift, looking into the water, saw that it was Mr. Beaver who was calling.
“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Beaver!” replied the queer little old man. “I will accept your invitation with pleasure.”
And soon the two were making their way through the water to the place where the beavers were building their home.
And where do you suppose that was?
On a nice sunny hill? Or in the shade of the trees?
No, no! Instead, it was in the middle of a pond which the beavers themselves had made by building a dam of mud and sticks.