What were two weeks now in prospect? He knew his aunt would welcome him for an indefinite stay, but Kathleen doubtless had plans for guests, and moreover Edgar's advent was but one little night away. He shuddered at the prospect of the gilded youth's questions and comments on his work.
He decided to walk around the edge of the island. Then he looked back toward Mrs. Wright's house. He remembered the look of disappointment in the depths of Eliza's shade hat when he had paid the fleeting visit on his way to the wharf.
"I'll go to see her once more," he reflected, "and have her off my mind, for I'm afraid I shall forget when I get a little deeper in here."
Accordingly, he moved off with long swinging steps through the soft deep grass, and Mrs. Wright saw him coming. She was sitting with her book on the rustic bench which took the place of piazza at the old farmhouse.
"Eliza," she called, "your young man is coming back."
It was an hour afterward that Mrs. Fabian, her grudge against the swallows mollified by a nap, came downstairs to the living-room to reconnoitre. All was so still that she knew that either those dull birds were still dawdling, or else that her young people had seen them off and were away again.
She peered from a window into the glass enclosure, and to her surprise saw her daughter asleep in the hammock. How slender and pale looked the sleeping face.
"Poor child. She's worn out, I wonder where Phil is."
As if the gaze had disturbed the sleeper, Kathleen turned on her pillow and opened her eyes.
Mrs. Fabian promptly left the house and came out to her swinging couch.