"So you took forty winks, too," she said, casting a glance up at the deserted nest. "Where's Phil?"
"I don't know," returned Kathleen languidly. "I scarcely know where I am."
"I hope I didn't wake you, gazing from the window; but it's no use your trying to sleep again, for Cap'n James is coming up at last with the trunks. Kathleen, I've had a bright idea," added Mrs. Fabian alertly.
The girl stifled a yawn.
"You know Phil won't stay here unless he's working. I'm going to have him do our portraits for father's Christmas present!"
Kathleen was wide awake instantly.
"It would cost so much, mother," she said.
Mrs. Fabian stared at her. "What an idea!" she retorted. "Phil hasn't come to enormous prices yet!"
"But you would not want to pay him a small price. It wouldn't be right."
"Since when have you become so economical?" asked Mrs. Fabian, laughing. "After Christmas, I must tell your father of this talk. How he will laugh. You and Edgar should be shaken up. Phil's sketches of his mother show his gift for getting likeness. I don't know whether he has ever painted a portrait, but I have every confidence in him."