Белая птичка
The Thrush’s Nest
Hesleepsinhisneststill,andhasafascinatingwayofcurlingroundinit,foritisjustlargeenoughtoholdhimcomfortablywhenhecurlsroundlikeakitten.Itisbrowninside,ofcourse,butoutsideitismostlygreen,beingwovenofgrassandtwigs,andwhenthesewitherorsnapthewallsarethatchedafresh.Therearealsoafewfeathershereandthere,whichcameoffthethrusheswhiletheywerebuilding.
Theotherbirdswereextremelyjealousandsaidthattheboatwouldnotbalanceonthewater,butitlaymostbeautifullysteady;theysaidthewaterwouldcomeintoit,butnowatercameintoit.NexttheysaidthatPeterhadnooars,andthiscausedthethrushestolookateachotherindismay,butPeterrepliedthathehadnoneedofoars,forhehadasail,andwithsuchaproud,happyfaceheproducedasailwhichhehadfashionedoutofhisnight-gown,andthoughitwasstillratherlikeanight-gownitmadealovelysail.Andthatnight,themoonbeingfull,andallthebirdsasleep,hedidenterhiscoracle(asMasterFrancisPrettywouldhavesaid)anddepartoutoftheisland.Andfirst,heknewnotwhy,helookedupward,withhishandsclasped,andfromthatmomenthiseyeswerepinnedtothewest.
Hehadpromisedthethrushestobeginbymakingshortvoyages,withthemtohisguides,butfarawayhesawtheKensingtonGardensbeckoningtohimbeneaththebridge,andhecouldnotwait.Hisfacewasflushed,butheneverlookedback;therewasanexultationinhislittlebreastthatdroveoutfear.
