n eat his mid-morning snack--or
"mungey," as it is called in the Islands. It consisted, as a rule, of a
crust of bread, but Jan had supplemented it to-day with a turnip, which
he cut into slices with his pocket-knife. He had been pulling turnips
since six o'clock. "And I reckon this'll be the last time of askin',"
he commented, letting his eyes wander over the field as he seated
himself on a shaft of the cart, which had been brought to await the
loading.

The children knew that they would soon be quitting Saaron, and that the
prospect distressed their father and mother. They had discussed it, and
agreed together that it was a great shame to be turned out of their
home, and that the Lord Proprietor must be a hard-hearted tyrant; but
secretly they looked forward to the change with a good deal of
excitement, not being of an age to fathom the troubles of grown-up
folk. After all, Brefar lay close at hand and was familiar. Brefar was
populous, and across there they would find many playmates. Brefar, too,
held out great promise of adventure after sea-birds' eggs and
expeditions of discovery; and if ever the home-sickness came upon them
they would cross the sands at low-water and revisit the old haunts and
the deserted house. All these consolations, however, they kept to
themselves. It would never do to abandon the family grievance merely
because it presented a bright side. They felt, as older folks have been
known to feel, that a sense of injury carries with it a sense of
importance.

"I wonder," said Linnet, severely, "that you can have the heart to talk
about it, Jan."

"Jan has no feelings about leaving Saaron," said Annet, more in sorrow
than in anger. "Why should he--coming from the mainland?"

"But Jan was born on the Islands," Matthew Henry objected; "and that
will be a long time ago."

"Silly! As if you could belong to the Islands by being born here! Why,
to belong to them, your father and mother must have been Islanders, and
your grandfathers and grandmothers, and right back into the greats and
great-greats. And then you never want to go away or live anywhere else
in the world."

Matthew Henry pursed up his small mouth dubiously. He himself had
sometimes wished to live in the wilds of America, or on a South Sea
Island; even to visit Australia and have a try at walking upside down.
There must be a flaw in Annet's argument somewhere.

"But if Jan comes from the mainland--" he began.

"Cornwall," said Jan, tr