"Good I am down here, then," said the boy, eyeing a bit of board along the edge to see if it was straight.
"Why?" cried Violet.
"You know she doesn't like to praise me to my face," said Magnus, carefully planing the aforesaid edge.
"Conceited boy!" said Rose.
Well, I suppose he was that, just a little; but what can happen to average masculine nature, with three such bits of the feminine to stand round and gaze at its perfections? Magnus brought his board to a nicety of straightness, tossed off the shavings, gave another toss to his brown hair—then looked up at the sweet cluster of faces in the window and laughed.
"All's safe up there, so long as I stay down here," he said.
The three were silent.
"He is such a beauty!" said Rose under her breath. "He grows better and handsomer every day."
"But we want to talk to you!" said Violet.
"I can wait."