"Then have yours done, dear," said Kathleen. "You're looking as well as usual, but nothing would hire me to have my lantern jaws perpetuated."
"Oh, a week or two of this will make you bloom, child."
"Yes, especially my nose," returned the girl.
Her thoughts were working fast. She had been happy in the thought that they were now in the place where neither her mother nor Edgar could commit themselves to any large expense. Her father had said that by autumn he should know where he stood. She could not say any more, however, for Captain James's wagon had arrived, and Mrs. Fabian went to see to the disposition of the trunks and to give her caretaker explicit low-voiced directions as to examining for and eliminating any and all birds' nests found in future on the premises, and at last she brought him around to the wind-break to point out the one he was to remove now, with all its traces, at the earliest possible moment.
Kathleen, still lying, her hands clasped under her head, looked up at him with a smile.
"I'm so glad you didn't notice that nest any sooner, Cap'n James," she said. "You might have disturbed it."
Captain James chewed a wisp of grass and favored the girl with a wink.
"It wasn't like you," said Mrs. Fabian, with elaborately gentle rebuke, "not to have this wind-break cleaner. Look at the windows."
"I had Betsy Eaton wash 'em on the outside," said the captain imperturbably, and winked at Kathleen again.
"It was fine of you, Cap'n James," she laughed. "They flew to-day, and I was at the party."