Freddy Goes to Florida by Walter R. Brooks Read Free Book Online

swallows in that chimney, it means that there hasn’t been a fire built in the house in a long time. And that means that nobody lives there. Let’s get inside.”
    Bang, bang—bingle BOOM! went the thunder. And the animals made a rush for the door and got inside just as the rain came down with a swish and a rattle.

    Bang, bang — bingle BOOM !
    There was only one room in the house, and in it were two chairs and a table and an empty barrel and a pile of old newspapers. Opposite the door was a big fire-place, and beside the fire-place was a neat pile of firewood. But everything was very dusty. Nobody had lived in the house in a long time.
    Outside, the rain was coming down in torrents, and the thunder and lightning were very bad indeed. But the animals were happy because they were dry. Only the mice, Eeek and Quik and Eeny and Cousin Augustus, were rather frightened, and at the first really sharp flash of lightning they dived down an old mouse hole by the fire-place and didn’t come up until the storm was over.
    After the thunder and lightning had gone farther away again, and the rain had settled down to a good, steady, all-night pour, Robert said: “It’s getting cold. I wish Mr. Bean was here to build us a fire.”
    â€œThere are some matches up here,” said Charles, the rooster, who had perched on the mantel over the fire-place.
    â€œI believe I could build one myself,” said Robert. “I’ve seen him do it often enough. Chuck down a couple matches, Charles.”
    â€œAnd what about all those swallows in the chimney?” asked Henrietta. “I suppose you never thought about them!”
    â€œWe’ll invite ’em to come down and sit around the fire with us,” said Robert. He called up to the swallows and invited them down, and pretty soon they began dropping down in twos and threes. They circled round the room, and then took their places in rows along the walls, for swallows don’t perch as other birds do, holding on by their claws,—they hang themselves up by the little hooks they have on the tops of their wings. There were so many of them that the log walls were covered with them, and they looked like a beautiful, shining black tapestry.
    Then Robert built the fire with newspapers and wood, and he held a match between his teeth and scratched it on the floor and dropped it on the papers. He singed his nose before he got through, but at last he got the papers to burning. Then all the animals had to squat down on the hearth and blow the fire to make it go, because he hadn’t built it very well. But at last it burned up brightly, and then they all sat round and talked.
    â€œI’d like to know who lived in this house,” said Charles.
    â€œNobody knows,” said the oldest swallow, who was hanging just over the door. And all the other swallows said: “That’s so,” and rustled their wings.
    â€œNobody lived here in my grandfather’s time,” said the oldest swallow.
    â€œThat’s so,” said the other swallows again.
    â€œAnd nobody lived here in my great-grandfather’s time.”
    â€œThat’s so.”
    â€œAnd nobody lived here in my great-great-grandfather’s time.”
    â€œThat’s so.”
    â€œAnd nobody——”
    â€œExcuse me,” said Robert politely, “but I don’t think you need go any farther back. Don’t people ever come here at all?”
    â€œOnce in a while—” the swallow began slowly. Before he could go on, the youngest swallow piped up: “That’s so.”
    The oldest swallow glared at him crossly, and his mother spanked him soundly for speaking out of turn. For it is a custom among the swallows for the oldest and wisest one to do all the talking, and for the others to say: “That’s so” when he has finished. They do this because there are so many of them, and if they all talked at once in their little