re
the island's snores--the noises of the quarrymen and stone-sawyers.

Opposite to the spot on which he sat was a roomy cottage or homestead.
Like the island it was all of stone, not only in walls but in
window-frames, roof, chimneys, fence, stile, pigsty and stable, almost
door.

He remembered who had used to live there--and probably lived there
now--the Caro family; the 'roan-mare' Caros, as they were called to
distinguish them from other branches of the same pedigree, there being
but half-a-dozen Christian and surnames in the whole island. He crossed
the road and looked in at the open doorway. Yes, there they were still.

Mrs. Caro, who had seen him from the window, met him in the entry, and
an old-fashioned greeting took place between them. A moment after a
door leading from the back rooms was thrown open, and a young girl about
seventeen or eighteen came bounding in.

'Why, 'TIS dear Joce!' she burst out joyfully. And running up to the
young man, she kissed him.

The demonstration was sweet enough from the owner of such an
affectionate pair of bright hazel eyes and brown tresses of hair. But it
was so sudden, so unexpected by a man fresh from towns, that he winced
for a moment quite involuntarily; and there was some constraint in the
manner in which he returned her kiss, and said, 'My pretty little Avice,
how do you do after so long?'

For a few seconds her impulsive innocence hardly noticed his start of
surprise; but Mrs. Caro, the girl's mother, had observed it instantly.
With a pained flush she turned to her daughter.

'Avice--my dear Avice! Why--what are you doing? Don't you know that
you've grown up to be a woman since Jocelyn--Mr. Pierston--was last down
here? Of course you mustn't do now as you used to do three or four years
ago!'

The awkwardness which had arisen was hardly removed by Pierston's
assurance that he quite expected her to keep up the practice of her
childhood, followed by several minutes of conversation on general
subjects. He was vexed from his soul that his unaware movement should so
have betrayed him. At his leaving he repeated that if Avice regarded him
otherwise than as she used to do he would never forgive her; but though
they parted good friends her regret at the incident was visible in her
face. Jocelyn passed out into the road and onward to his father's house
hard by. The mother and daughter were left alone.

'I was quite amazed at 'ee, my child!' exclaimed the elder. 'A yo