the image of him."

"Maybe the hat's not big enough," said Emmeline, turning her head
from side to side as she gazed at the picture. It looked right, but
she felt there must be something wrong, as Mr Button did not
applaud. Has not every true artist felt the same before the silence
of some critic?

Mr Button tapped the ashes out of his pipe and rose to stretch
himself, and the class rose and trooped down to.the lagoon edge,
leaving Henry and his hat a figure on the sand to be obliterated by
the wind.

After a while, as time went on, Mr Button took to his lessons as a
matter of course, the small inventions of the children assisting
their utterly untrustworthy knowledge. Knowledge, perhaps, as
useful as any other there amidst the lovely poetry of the palm
trees and the sky.

Days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, without the
appearance of a ship--a fact which gave Mr Button very little
trouble; and even less to his charges, who were far too busy and
amused to bother about ships.

The rainy season came on them with a rush, and at the words
"rainy season" do not conjure up in your mind the vision of a rainy
day in Manchester.

The rainy season here was quite a lively time. Torrential showers
followed by bursts of sunshine, rainbows, and rain-dogs in the