"I was very sure that you would love my poor little flower, which
William despised because it was not good to eat."

"He is a little gourmand," said Grace, laughing, "whom I condemn for
his punishment to eat my part of the cake."

"To the health of Grace," said the father. "We have just opened for
her one of the bottles of old Bourdeaux, which the brave French
captain gave us, who came near perishing down below at the end of
the great reef of rocks, sixteen years ago."

"And whom you saved at the risk of your life," added his wife.

"I remember it all," said Grace, with a very serious look; "I was
very small, yet I well remember that terrible night. I hear now the
howling of the waves as they broke against the rocks, and made the
lighthouse tremble."

"It was just such a night as this," said the father; "a Friday, the
sixth of September. The sun set, just as it set to-night, in a cloud
red as blood, which is never a sign of any thing good."

"It is a sign of a great wind," said James; "so much the better; the
wild birds will come to the island for shelter."

"A great storm," said John, "always brings fish into my trap;
besides, I love the storm."

"Let us play hit-hand," said Jenny. "Come, James, you begin; put
your head in my lap, and hold your hand out. There! tell me who