The kingfisher did not seem to hear her. He just went on with his story.
"Perhaps a little less than two feet from the outside we made a turn to the right. After that we were obliged to bring the earth out in our beaks.
"Two could not work at once. While I worked at the tunnel Mrs. Kingfisher fished. While she worked, I fished. At last the tunnel was eight feet long.
"'That is a very safe distance,' said Mrs. Kingfisher to me. 'Let us dig no more, but make our nest here at the end of the tunnel.'
"We built a wonderful nest," the bird went on, "a fine prickly nest for our little ones. We did not line it with feathers and moss. We carefully arranged a pile of fish-bones and scales at the farthest end of the tunnel. On these bones and scales my wife laid six white eggs. Already four little baby kingfishers have pecked their way out of the white shells. The others will be out soon.
"I must be off about my fishing. Mrs. Kingfisher and I will both be very busy now catching minnows for those blue babies of ours."
With another chuckle and rattle the kingfisher flew away to his fishing station over the pond.
Phyllis picked up her basket of berries and returned to the spot where Jack still sat patiently holding his pole.
"Oh, Jack—" Phyllis began.
"Sh-h-h-h!" whispered Jack. "You promised not to talk. You'll scare the fish away. Girls always talk."