Benjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.
Tommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed. Nothing could be seen of the young family.
The sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were
many unpleasant things lying about, that had much better have
been buried; rabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other
horrors. It was a shocking place, and very dark.
They went back to the front of the house, and tried in every way to
move the bolt of the kitchen window. They tried to push up a rusty
nail between the window sashes; but it was of no use, especially
without a light.