After that, there was no more hope of keeping things quiet in the house for Phronsie's sake. Meanwhile the bird, who had played no mean part in the engagement, now asserted himself, and blindly rushed into capture.
"Isn't he lovely!" cried Phronsie, tearing her gaze off from the wonderful wings, as the swallow fluttered under the mosquito netting speedily brought in.
"Yes, his wings are," said Polly. "Oh, Dick! do tell over again how it all happened."
So Dick rehearsed once more as far as he knew the story, tossing off lightly his part of it.
"Your poor head, does it ache?" cried Polly, feeling of the big bump on the crown.
"No, not a bit," declared Dick, shaking his brown poll. "I'm glad I didn't crack the glass."
"That heavy plate?" cried Polly, looking over at the cheval-glass with a shiver.
Phronsie deserted the fascinating bird, and began to smooth Dick's head with both hands.
"Do let me bathe it," she begged. "I'll get the Pond's Extract."
"No, I won't," said Dick. "It smells awfully, and I've had so much of it for my leg. I'm all right, Phronsie. See his wings now—he's stretching."