kind, you might be drowned before any one could come
to your help. Remember, my child."

"Yes, papa, I will," said Eyebright, looking rather nervously at the
water. It was slipping farther away every moment, and seemed the most
harmless thing in the world; but papa's words made her feel as if it
were a dangerous and deceitful creature which could not be trusted.

It was over a mile from the causeway to the village, though at first
sight the distance looked much less Plodding along the sandy shore was
slow work, so that they did not reach the village till nearly six. A
smell of frying met them as they entered the door. Mrs. Downs, wishing
to do them honor, was making blueberry flapjacks for tea. Did any of
you ever eat blueberry flapjacks? I imagine not, unless you have
summered on the coast of Maine. They are a kind of greasy pancake, in
which blueberries are stirred till the cakes are about the color of a
bruise. They are served swimming in melted butter and sugar, and in
any other place or air would be certain indigestion, if not sudden
death, to any person partaking of them. But, somehow, in that place
and that air they are not only harmless but seem quite delicious as
well. Eyebright thought so. She ate a great many flapjacks, thought
them extremely nice, and slept like a top afterward, with never a bad
dream to mar her rest.

A big gray sail at the wharf was the glad sight that met their eyes
when they came down next morning. The sloop had come in during the
night, with all Mr. Bright's goods on board. He had hoped that it
might be possible to land them on the island, but the captain said it
was out of the question; he couldn't get near enough, for one thing,
and if he could, he wouldn't; for how were heavy things like them to
be dumped on a shelvin' bank like that, he'd like to know? So the
goods were landed on the dock at Scrapplehead, and Mr. Downs undertook
to find an ox-team to draw them across the causeway at low tide.

Getting oxen was not an easy matter at that season of the year, but
Mr. Downs, who had taken a fancy to his lodgers, bestirred himself,
and at last found some one willing to let his yoke go in consideration
of a dollar and a quarter. So, at exact low tide, the great cart,
piled with boxes and barrels, creaked slowly across the sandy bar, Mr.
Downs driving, and papa walking behind with Eyebright, who was more
than ever reminded of the crossing of the Red Sea. It took much
lugging and strain