"Yes," he answered. "O yes; the island's already too small for us."

"It's certainly very dangerously exposed," said my wife, and I guessed her
thought was on Last Island, which, you remember, though very large and
populous, had been, within our recollection, totally submerged, with
dreadful loss of life.

"O yes," he responded, "there's always something wherever you are. One of
these days some storm's going to roll the sea clean over the whole thing."

"Then, why don't you move to a bigger island closer inshore?" she asked.

"I'm afraid," said Gregory, and smiled.

"Afraid!" said my wife, incredulously.

"Yes," he responded. "I'm afraid my prisoner'll get away from me."

As his hand closed over hers in good-by I saw, what he could not, that she
had half a notion to kiss it. I told her so when he was gone, and kissed
hers--for him.

"I don't care," she said, dreamily, as it lingered in mine, "I'm glad I
mended his coat for him that time."


* * * * *


The Taxidermist