and he drank it and told her how he had torn one of his wings in a bramble-bush, and therefore could not fly as fast as the other swallows, who were soon far on their way to the hot countries. He had at last fallen to the ground, but he could not remember anything more, and did not know in the least how he had got there.
The swallow remained down there the whole winter, and Thumbeline was kind to him and came to love him very much. Neither the mole nor the field-mouse knew anything about it, for they did not care in the least for the poor swallow.
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THE FIELD-MOUSE HIRED FOUR SPIDERS TO SPIN AND WEAVE, AND THE MOLE CAME EVERY EVENING ON A VISIT.
As soon as the spring came and the sun began to warm the ground, the swallow said good-by to Thumbeline, who opened the hole which the mole had made in the ground above the passage. The sun shone in upon them so brightly, and the swallow asked Thumbeline if she would not go away with them. She could sit on his back, and they would fly away far into the green forest. But Thumbeline knew the old field-mouse would be much grieved if she left her in this way.
"No, I cannot," said Thumbeline.
"Farewell, farewell, you kind and pretty girl!" said the swallow, and flew out into the sunshine. Thumbeline stood looking after him, and the tears came into her eyes, for she was very fond of the poor swallow.
"Tweet, tweet!" sang the bird as he flew away into the green forest.
Thumbeline was very sad at heart. She was not allowed to go out
