"Kathleen!" exclaimed Phil.
She turned back, but too late. In that instant the young bird on the beam had flown.
"They're right there, though," said Phil excitedly, and indeed the birds kept wheeling above the bluff, when, wonder of wonders, the other young ones, struggling to the edge of the nest as if unable to resist the intoxication of the sight, flew out into the open.
For a minute the bright air was astir with the whir of wings. It was impossible to distinguish the young birds from the old; then they all alighted on the ridge-pole of a small summer house which stood on the edge of the bluff.
Kathleen turned to Phil, her hands clasped on her breast. He thought her enchanted eyes and smile suggested the unlocking of one of her inner doors.
"Yes," he replied, nodding, "I never saw anything prettier than that."
The girl looked back at the summer house. The birds were still sitting there all in a row. The two watched until again wings were afloat in the bright air; then they ran down the steps to see what would be the next resting-place, and saw the birds alight on posts and netting about the tennis court. When again they flew, they disappeared.
Kathleen sighed. "In my next incarnation," she said, "I choose to be a swallow on Brewster's Island."
"Then," said Phil, looking at her radiant face, "I'm glad I happened to be a man during your present one."
The open door closed. Phil thought he could almost hear it click. In an instant the dark eyes were the reflective ones he had known.