"Heaps!" replied Bob, succinctly. Then, after a pause of meditative
chewing: "Like to go aboard? take ye--boat--Cap'n willin'."

"No, I don't want to go aboard, thank you!" said Star. "I don't like
people. But you might just row me round her once, Bob," she added.
"I think I should like _that_. But we must wait till Daddy comes,
of course."

"Cap'n round?" inquired Bob.

"He's setting the lobster-pots," replied the child. "He'll be back
soon. Bob," she added, irrelevantly, a moment after, "I never noticed
before that you looked like Imogen. Why, you are the very image of
her, Bob! Your eyes and your expression are _exactly_ the same." Bob
raised his eyes and surveyed Imogen with a critical air. "Fine cow!"
he said at last. "D'no's I mind--'f she doosn't."

"_Isn't_ she a fine cow?" cried little Star, patting the meek and
graceful head of her favourite. "I don't believe there's another such
cow in the world. I _know_ there isn't! I think," she added, "I will
take a little ride on her, while we are waiting for Daddy Captain.
Will you put me up, please, Bob?"

The obedient Bob lifted her as if she were a ball of thistle-down,
and set her on the broad back of the good cow, who straightway began
to pace sedately along the bit of meadow, following the guidance of
the small hands which clasped her horns. Ah! who will paint me that
picture, as my mind's eye sees it? The blue of sky and sea, the
ripples breaking in silver on silver sand, the jewelled green, where