“Nonsense,” said Bob, “as if birds ever lived in the mud!”
“Well,” said Pip, “thum thwallows, I know, make their neths of mud, and then they live in their neths, and that’s living in mud. But here comth the Profethor; let’s see what heeth found. It’s thumthin in a glath.”
The Professor came up, walking very slowly across the grass; then stepped carefully up upon the piazza, and, as he passed the window, he called for some one to come and open the front door.
All the children ran together, and opened the door with such a flourish, the Professor was obliged to call out, “Stand off! Hands off!”
“Will it splode?” said Pip.
“Will it bite?” said Bob.
“Will it fly away?” said Tom.
“It will splode,” said the Professor, “and it will fly away; but it won’t bite.”
“Oh my!” said Pip, “what can it be? I never heard of any creature splodin!”
The Professor looked pleased; his face was red, his hair was tumbled, his coat was torn, and his boots and trousers were muddy.