“We'll set a shallow pan, and sink it in the ground, and plant ferns about it to hang over. Anna Belle can have some little china dolls to go in wading in it.”
“Oh yes, yes!” cried Jewel delighted. “Hear that, dearie? Hear what Love is planning for you?”
Anna Belle's nose was buried in the grass and her hat was awry. If she had a fault, it was a tendency to being overdressed. At present her plumed hat and large fluffy boa gave her an aspect unsympathetic with the surroundings. Jewel pulled her upright and placed her on the mossy divan.
“If I'd only brought the trowel I could get the hole ready,” Jewel was saying, when a whistle, soft and clear as a flute, sounded above the brook's gurgle.
She lifted a finger in caution. “Oh,” she whispered, looking up into her cousin's face, “the loveliest bird! Hush.”
Clear, sweet, flexible, somewhere among those high branches sounded again the same elaborate phrase.
Jewel was surprised to see her cousin's pleased, listening expression alter to eager wonder, then the girl flushed rosy red and started up. “Siegfried!” she murmured.
Again came the bird motif sifting down through the rustling leaves.
“Nat!” called Eloise gladly.
“Any nymphs down there?” questioned a man's voice.