morning of Mrs. Maloney's Sixth Day and they had just issued, clean and
brilliant, from the hands of the great Architect.

In the open spaces the ground was drenched with dew, and from the sea a
cool salt wind stole in among the trees and set the branches trembling
in an atmosphere of shimmering silver. The tents shone white where the
sun caught them in patches. Below lay the lagoon, still dreaming of the
summer night; in the open the fish were jumping busily, sending musical
ripples towards the shore; and in the air hung the magic of
dawn--silent, incommunicable.

I lit the fire, so that an hour later the clergyman should find good
ashes to stir his porridge over, and then set forth upon an examination
of the island, but hardly had I gone a dozen yards when I saw a figure
standing a little in front of me where the sunlight fell in a pool among
the trees.

It was Joan. She had already been up an hour, she told me, and had
bathed before the last stars had left the sky. I saw at once that the
new spirit of this solitary region had entered into her, banishing the
fears of the night, for her face was like the face of a happy denizen of
the wilderness, and her eyes stainless and shining. Her feet were bare,
and drops of dew she had shaken from the branches hung in her
loose-flying hair. Obviously she had come into her own.

"I've been all over the island," she announced laughingly, "and there
are two things wanting."

"You're a good judge, Joan. What are they?"