"What shall we talk about first?" Felicia sighed, sinking into the hearth chair, with Kirk on her lap. "I never _knew_ so many wildly exciting things to happen all at once!"
It came about, of course, that they talked first of Kirk; but his adventures went hand in hand with the other adventure, and the talk flew back and forth between the _Flying Dutchman_ and the _Celestine_, Kirk and Mr. Martin--or Martin, the Maestro's son.
"And it was the same old _Celestine_!" Ken marveled; "that's the queer part." He fidgeted with the tongs for a moment and then said, "You didn't know I once nearly ran away to sea on her, did you?"
Two incredulous voices answered in the negative.
"It was when I was very, very young," said Ken, removed by six months of hard experience from his escapade, "and very foolish. Never mind about it. But who'd have thought she'd restore all our friends and relatives to us in this way! By the way, where's the ill-starred _Dutchman_?"
"Let her stay there," said Ken. "The season's over here, for the Sturgis Water Line. And I'm afraid of that boat. When I go up after Mother I'll try to sell the thing for what I can get."
Mother! There was another topic! Kirk didn't even know she was coming home! The talk went off on a new angle, and plan followed plan, till Ken rose and announced that he was fairly starved.
"I'm worn to a wraith," said he. "I haven't had the time or the heart for a decent dinner since some time in the last century. Bring out the entire contents of the larder, Phil, and let's have a celebration."
Next morning, while the dew still hung in the hollows, Kirk got up and dressed himself without waking Ken. He tiptoed out into the new day, and made his way across the cool, mist-hung meadow to the Maestro's hedge. For an idea had been troubling him; it had waked with him, and he went now to make a restoration.
All was quiet in the garden. The first fallen leaves rustled beneath Kirk's feet as he went up the paved path and halted beside the dry fountain. He sat down cross-legged on the coping, with his chin in his hands, and turned his face to the wind's kiss and the gathering warmth of the sun. Something stirred at the other side of the pool--a blown leaf, perhaps; but then a voice remarked: