Mrs. Fabian pulled her chair so that its rockers scraped the boards.
"We must all be still as mice," warned Kathleen softly.
Her mother looked up at the seething nest with disfavor. Since her young people considered the show such a treat, she would be obliged to edit the lecture she had been preparing for Captain James. The parent birds flew in and out in a state of great excitement, and one of them fed the venturesome little fellow on the beam, whereupon the others stretched their necks and vociferated with wide mouths.
"But they're so slow," complained Mrs. Fabian. "Why don't they fly and be done with it? I can hardly keep my eyes open."
"They may not go for an hour, or perhaps all night—oh, if they are so unkind as to wait until we're all asleep to-morrow morning!" said Kathleen.
"Then I don't know that I shall wait," said Mrs. Fabian.
"Perhaps you'd better not," agreed the girl, her eyes fixed on the young bird lest he should elude her. "We're none of us invited to this party, you see."
Upon this, the venturesome little swallow appeared to have an attack of homesickness, for, instead of flying away, he hopped back to the nest, where he immediately became very unpopular with his brothers and sisters. Whatever the spot into which he had this morning fitted so snugly, it seemed to have disappeared.
"Well, did you ever!" exclaimed Mrs. Fabian in exasperation. "Why couldn't Phil climb up there and set them all out on the beam and take the nest down. I'm sure it would just help them along."