nette round the
edge and a rose in the middle; a sure-enough token of esteem--that kind
of thing, you know. Is it a bargain, Miss Reynier?"

"Very well, it is a bargain," agreed Melanie; "but I shall choose
bachelors' buttons!"

So they took the tender and got off, with a great show of exactness as
to time and strictness of rules. Madame Reynier was to hold the watch,
and Aleck was to wave a white handkerchief the minute they touched
sand. Mr. Chamberlain was to give a like signal when they started
back. The yacht slowed down, and held her place as nearly as possible.

Chamberlain pulled a great oar, and was, in fact, far superior to Aleck
in point of skill; but his stroke was not well adapted to the choppy
waves inshore. He had learned it on the sleepy Cam, where the long,
gliding blade counts best. The men stayed ashore a long time,
disappearing entirely beyond the clump of trees that screened the
outbuildings. When they reappeared, an old man was with them,
following them down to the boat. Then the white handkerchief appeared,
and the boat started on its return.

Aleck profited by Chamberlain's work, and made the boat leap forward by
a shorter, almost jerky stroke. He came back easily with five minutes
to spare.

"Good work!" said Mr. Chamberlain. "You have me beaten, and you'll get
the bachelors' buttons; but you had the tide with you."

"Nonsense! I had the lobsters extra!" asserted Aleck.

"Well, if you had been born an Englishman, we'd make an oarsman out of
you yet!"

"Huh!" said Aleck.

But they had news to tell the ladies, and while they were having their
dinner their thoughts were turned to another matter. The island, it
appeared, had for some years been abandoned by its owner, and its only
inhabitant was a gray and grizzly old man, known to the region as the
hermit. His fancy was to keep a light burning always by night in the
landward window of his cabin, so as to warn sailors off the dangerous
headland. There was no lighthouse in the vicinity, and by a kindly
consent the people on the neighboring islands and on the mainland
opposite encouraged his benevolent delusion, if delusion it might be
called. They contrived to send him provisions at least once a week;
and they had supplied him with a flag which, it was understood, he
would fly in case he was in actual need. So, alone with his cow and
his fowls, the old hermit spent his days, winter and summer, tending
his lamp when the dar