her around. She's spoiling everything. Besides," he added, half to
himself, "it's time the boy got over his nonsense."

Margaret Hamilton reflected, her small face brightening.

"Are you very, very sure it wouldn't be wicked?" she asked, hopefully.

"Yep. Perfectly sure. Go in and win!"

Greatly cheered by this official sanction, Margaret Hamilton the
following day made her second suggestion of a day _a deux_.

"All by ourselves," she repeated, firmly. "An' not Lily Bell, 'cos
she'd spoil it. An' you row me to the island. Don't let's take
Thomas."

This was distinctly wrong. The children were not allowed to take the
boat save under Thomas's careful eye; but, as has been pointed out,
Margaret Hamilton had her faults. Raymond Mortimer struggled weakly in
the gulf of temptation, then succumbed and went under.

"All right," he said, largely, "I will. We'll have lunch, too, and
p'r'aps I'll build a fire."

"We'll play we're cave-dwellers," contributed Margaret Hamilton, whose
invention always exceeded his own, and whose imagination had recently
been stimulated by Miss Greene, who occasionally read aloud to the
children. "You hunt an' get the food an' bring it home, an' I'll cook
it. You be the big, brave man an' I'll be your--your mate," she
concluded, quoting freely from the latest interesting volume to which