FLASHES OF BLUE

When Kathleen ran downstairs a little later, Phil looked at her in smiling surprise. The elegant Miss Fabian had disappeared. In her stead was a young girl, shorter by the height of a fashionable boot-heel, and with braided hair wound around her head, fastened by a broad bow of black ribbon. Her short, dark-blue skirt reached to her ankles and a Tam o' Shanter crowned her head.

Phil turned to his hostess. "What a strong family resemblance your youngest bears to Miss Fabian. I should know she was her sister if I met her anywhere."

"Yes, this is Kathleen, not Miss Fabian. Don't forget it. When you come back, I expect you to be treating each other as cousins should. Don't let her walk too far, Phil." Mrs. Fabian stifled a yawn. "I think I shall take a nap in the wind-break."

She watched the pair as they moved away from the house. The breeze was tossing the short dark hair on Phil's uncovered head. Kathleen, in her rubber-soled, heelless shoes, scarcely reached his ear.

"I'm glad now," mused Mrs. Fabian, "that Kathleen is a Van Ruysler iceberg. If she were a susceptible girl, I wouldn't wish her to be with that man a minute. What matter if he is a high-minded, fine chap? If he didn't care for her she'd suffer just the same." And Mrs. Fabian gave a yawn mightier than its predecessors and sought her favorite nook.

Meantime Eliza Brewster was making restless sallies from the kitchen to the front room and gazing over toward the boulder cottage. She felt sure Phil would inquire about her, and not let too much time pass before he ran across the field to Mrs. Wright's.

The dinner dishes were washed and cleared away and Eliza had on a clean gingham dress and white apron. Mrs. Wright saw her expectancy.

"Mr. Sidney is a stranger in a strange land," she said. "He will be entirely dependent on his hosts this first day. Why shouldn't we run over there?" she added with a bright thought. "That's only island neighborliness."

But Eliza shook her head.

"It would be the very way to begin a new chapter," urged Mrs. Wright.

Eliza gazed from the window by which she was sitting. In the evolution to health and peace which the winter had brought, her causes of offence had gradually retreated into greater perspective, and the broad calm outlook which Mrs. Wright brought to bear on the untoward as well as the agreeable events of life had affected the narrow hardness of her own observations. Nevertheless, to beard the lioness in her den on the very day of her arrival would be a feat entirely beyond Eliza; so she only shook her head again, put on a shade hat, turned up the skirt of her dress, and went out to weed the sweet peas.

Thus it was that, with her back to the boulder cottage and her hands busy with the earth she loved, she did not hear steps that approached on the springy turf; and the first notice she had of the arrival of callers was a man's voice speaking above her.

"Doing finely, aren't they?" was the remark.

Well she knew the voice. She stepped on her petticoat in her haste to arise, and two strong hands went under her arms and lifted her to her feet.

"Mr. Philip!" she said gladly.

He was laughing down at her, and Pluto was on his shoulder. Kathleen Fabian stood a few feet away, and Eliza nodded a greeting to her while she allowed Phil to shake both her hands, green stains and all. Mrs. Wright, seeing them from a window, came out to welcome Kathleen and meet Phil, and the usual felicitations on the weather and first impressions followed.

"I can see," said Phil, "that I am going to be miserly of my days. I was just asking Miss Kathleen if all this beauty is liable to vanish in a fog-bank to-morrow."

"And she told you not at all liable, I'm sure," said Mrs. Wright; "but if it does—that is the beauty of the island—you'll sit before a blazing open fire and enjoy that quite as well." Phil shook his head. "The mere amazement of enjoying a fire at the end of the past week would, indeed, be absorbing for a while; but I want to try my hand at this—this new world." He looked off at the blue of the crested waves and the blue of the distant hills. "We are just on our way to the boat now to send a night letter to Pat to get him to send on some stuff. I'm glad you're such a near neighbor, Eliza. I shall be seeing you often."

"I'll not waste your time now asking you into the house," said Mrs. Wright, "but some wet day you must come in and try our fireplace. When does your brother come, Miss Kathleen?"

"To-morrow; and your niece, Mrs. Wright?"

"In another week, I think. I long to get hold of the child."

After a few more amenities, in which Eliza took but little part, except to gaze at Phil with wistful eyes, the young people started for the wharf.

"What a bonny young man," said Mrs. Wright, looking after them.

"Ain't he just about right?" agreed Eliza proudly. "You see there ain't any philanderin' there. He just wants to work and work. Here, Pluto! Kitty, kitty," for the cat was running after the departing couple. He paused, not from obedience, but because he saw that their course lay downhill and he preferred a sheltered sunny corner by the step.

Phil sent his night letter by the purser of the boat, and the two went back up the hill. Mrs. Fabian beckoned to them from the veranda.

"I thought you would be asleep by this time," said Kathleen.

"I thought I would, too," returned Mrs. Fabian. "Come here and let me show you how careless Cap'n James has been."

They followed her to the shelter of the windbreak where her favorite hammock hung, and whirring wings nearly brushed Phil's face as they entered. The nook was enclosed on two sides with glass, and Mrs. Fabian pointed to the snug lofty corner where the swallows had nested. The young were grown and one had ventured out upon a beam.

"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Kathleen, with soft delight. "We're in time for the coming-out party. Come here, mother, you're frightening them." And Mrs. Fabian found herself seized unsympathetically and drawn to a safe distance.

"But I must sleep, Kathleen. I'm exhausted. I was just dozing off when those creatures swooped across me chattering. I nearly jumped out of the hammock. It was a nervous shock."

"I suppose," said the girl, "they were saying, 'Why couldn't those big clumsy human beings have stayed away just one more day!' You must be a mascot, Phil, so many fortunate happenings for your first day."

She was quite unconscious that the name had slipped out, and the guest smiled and seated himself on the railing near her while Mrs. Fabian in a rocking-chair began to be consoled for her lost nap.

"Perhaps you would prefer to go on exploring," added Kathleen, "but I really can't miss this function."

"I wouldn't miss it for a farm," responded the guest, eyes fixed on the nest.

Mrs. Fabian pulled her chair so that its rockers scraped the boards.

"We must all be still as mice," warned Kathleen softly.

Her mother looked up at the seething nest with disfavor. Since her young people considered the show such a treat, she would be obliged to edit the lecture she had been preparing for Captain James. The parent birds flew in and out in a state of great excitement, and one of them fed the venturesome little fellow on the beam, whereupon the others stretched their necks and vociferated with wide mouths.

"But they're so slow," complained Mrs. Fabian. "Why don't they fly and be done with it? I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"They may not go for an hour, or perhaps all night—oh, if they are so unkind as to wait until we're all asleep to-morrow morning!" said Kathleen.

"Then I don't know that I shall wait," said Mrs. Fabian.

"Perhaps you'd better not," agreed the girl, her eyes fixed on the young bird lest he should elude her. "We're none of us invited to this party, you see."

Upon this, the venturesome little swallow appeared to have an attack of homesickness, for, instead of flying away, he hopped back to the nest, where he immediately became very unpopular with his brothers and sisters. Whatever the spot into which he had this morning fitted so snugly, it seemed to have disappeared.

"Well, did you ever!" exclaimed Mrs. Fabian in exasperation. "Why couldn't Phil climb up there and set them all out on the beam and take the nest down. I'm sure it would just help them along."

"Worse than pulling open a rosebud," said Kathleen.

"Very well, then," returned Mrs. Fabian. "I shall go upstairs."

No one objecting, she rose and suited the action to the word; and Kathleen and Phil were left to a welcome solitude.

The parent swallows soon ceased to notice the two large, strange birds perched on the veranda railing below.

Kathleen had discarded her Tam and as she sat between Phil and the wind-break, the sun gave him the red glints in her "reserved hair."

The tide was going out, but rushing with a splendid sweep toward the foot of their hill, the sky had occasional billows of downy white lying against its clear blue. The sweet wind swept the fresh grass where daisies were beginning to appear, and all down the irregular coast-line of the island the snowy foam broke on rock and sand.

The iridescent blue of the swallows' backs and the delicate rose of their breasts lent an exquisite touch of color, as they flew and wheeled in the curving flight designed to tempt the solemn-faced young, crowded so uncomfortably in the outgrown nest.

Again one struggled out upon the beam. The cunning parents fed it, while the others begged in vain. Then again the old birds were away in airy flight.

"Come out, come out in the sunshine," they seemed to cry, wheeling back toward the nest. "Come out to the ecstasy of wind and waves. The whole world, the world of sea and sky, is ours."

Kathleen for an instant turned about to her companion. "Do you see how he can resist?" she asked.

"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.

"Thank you kindly, sir," she said. "That was good fun. Shall we go on now with our interrupted walk?"

He continued to regard her. "I have an idea that you have walked enough. Twice up and down this hill and over to Mrs. Wright's is enough."

"Ho!" returned the girl lightly, "I walk all day here."

"Yes, after you have cooled off and slept for a night or two; but I suggest the hammock now."

They were standing in the shade and not a hint of red showed in the girl's soft hair. "There are weeks to rest in," she said. "We ought to make the most of this perfect day."

Phil still regarded her. The excitement of the closing college experiences and the city heat had left their mark; and he did not know of other and deeper reasons for her weariness. The flush of pleasure in the swallow ball had departed.

"Come," he said decidedly, "let's try the hammock."

"Really, Mr. Sidney," she answered, smiling, "I know when I'm tired."

But he proceeded up the veranda steps and she followed him into the wind-break.

"I'm willing," he said, "to go two steps forward and one back in my acquaintance with you; but I draw the line at two back. It sounded very friendly a few minutes ago when you called me Phil. I hope you'll see your way clear to doing it again sometime."

While he spoke, Philip was testing the ropes of the hammock.

"Oh, I'm sure I didn't call you Phil," she said in surprise.

"Let me see. Did I call you Kathleen?"

"I think you did," she replied, a delicate formality in her voice; "but the circumstances certainly excused it."

"I hope they will continue to excuse it, for I feel it coming on that I shall do it again. You took off Miss Fabian with your tailor gown." He turned and faced her. "Didn't you?" he added.

She shrugged her shoulders, and smiled again. "Perhaps."

"Then get right down on this couch, little Kathleen," he ordered, smiling, and after a moment's hesitation the girl obeyed. He drew over her the linen coverlet that had lain on a neighboring chair, and looked, not at her, but with fascinated eyes through the broad sheets of glass which guarded the hammock from the wind.

"Now, if you can feel sober enough to sleep in this intoxicating place, do so," he said.

Kathleen, propped high on cushions, folded her arms beneath her head.

"But isn't it questionable courtesy for both your hostesses to go to sleep, no matter how sober they may be?" she asked.

"There's another hostess here," he returned, with a brilliant look down into her uplifted eyes.

"Yes, I know," said Kathleen.

"My best girl," said Phil, moving out of the wind-break.

Kathleen smiled. "Yes, I like her, too," she answered. "I never had a lonely moment on this island in my life; so I shall not worry about you. There's another hammock around on the other side of the porch. Why don't you go to sleep yourself?"

"Because I'm afraid I should wake up in Gramercy Park," returned Phil, and, vaulting over the porch railing, he disappeared from Kathleen's view.

Walking to the back of the house, he gazed down at the waters of the cove, then across the field to the long low white farmhouse where he had found Eliza, then back again at the water. "Miss Manning said I should stay here if I had to live under a rock," he reflected.

One week: one week was all he had planned for, although Mrs. Fabian had pressed him for two.

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.

"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."

"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."

Mrs. Fabian looked from one to the other of the laughing ones, in injured dignity.

"Very well," she said at last; "now, if you're quite sure it won't disturb the plans of man or beast, Cap'n James, I'd like to have this wind-break cleaned."

"'Nuff said," returned the man, and once more grinning down at the girl's laughing face, he went back to his helper sitting on the wagon.