Phil sent his night letter by the purser of the boat, and the two went back up the hill. Mrs. Fabian beckoned to them from the veranda.
"I thought you would be asleep by this time," said Kathleen.
"I thought I would, too," returned Mrs. Fabian. "Come here and let me show you how careless Cap'n James has been."
They followed her to the shelter of the windbreak where her favorite hammock hung, and whirring wings nearly brushed Phil's face as they entered. The nook was enclosed on two sides with glass, and Mrs. Fabian pointed to the snug lofty corner where the swallows had nested. The young were grown and one had ventured out upon a beam.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Kathleen, with soft delight. "We're in time for the coming-out party. Come here, mother, you're frightening them." And Mrs. Fabian found herself seized unsympathetically and drawn to a safe distance.
"But I must sleep, Kathleen. I'm exhausted. I was just dozing off when those creatures swooped across me chattering. I nearly jumped out of the hammock. It was a nervous shock."
"I suppose," said the girl, "they were saying, 'Why couldn't those big clumsy human beings have stayed away just one more day!' You must be a mascot, Phil, so many fortunate happenings for your first day."
She was quite unconscious that the name had slipped out, and the guest smiled and seated himself on the railing near her while Mrs. Fabian in a rocking-chair began to be consoled for her lost nap.
"Perhaps you would prefer to go on exploring," added Kathleen, "but I really can't miss this function."
"I wouldn't miss it for a farm," responded the guest, eyes fixed on the nest.