d see him?"

"I believe my foot will be strong enough by Thursday, so you shall write
a letter to him after dinner, and say so."

"How jolly! I'm longing to see the White Coppice, and the balk, and Mrs.
Binks. I hope she won't forget to bake the cranberry cake. I shall have
to write a very neat letter. I want to copy out the runic inscription,
too, on to a fresh piece of paper."

"Yes, do, dear. If my ankle bears me safely as far as the White Coppice,
I shall certainly venture to the island afterwards, and take a sketch of
the stone. It's a most interesting discovery."

"Colonel Smith said he was going to have it raised up," said Isobel;
"half of it, you see, is buried in the ground. He wasn't sure whether he
would leave it where it is, or take it to his house. He's so dreadfully
afraid, if he lets it stay on the island, that horrid cheap trippers
might come some time and carve their names on it. He says the brambles
growing over it have kept it safe so far. I wish you knew him, mother,
he's _so_ kind. Belle says she doesn't like him at all, but I do."

"I think it's very good of him to let you have the run of his island; it
has made a most delightful playground, and you and the Sea Urchins will
have spent an ideal holiday."

"We have indeed. I'm so glad we came to Silversands. I wish we could
come every year, and always have the island to play on. It would be
something to look forward to through the winter."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible, dear," said Mrs. Stewart regretfully,
thinking of what might have been if the hopes which prompted her visit
had been fulfilled. "I doubt if we shall ever return here again. But we
will have other happy times together; there are many sweet spots in the
world where we shall be able to enjoy ourselves, and I have plans for
the future which I will tell you about by-and-by."

"I've had quite a jolly day in spite of the rain," declared Isobel that
evening, when, the deluge having ceased at last, the setting sun broke
through the thick banks of clouds, and flooding the sea with a golden
glory, brought out all the cooped-up visitors for an airing upon the
Parade.

"I haven't!" said Belle. "It was perfectly detestable. I had absolutely
nothing to do except throw balls for Micky, and even he got tired of
that. Mother said we made her head ache, and she went to lie down. It's
never any fun talking to Barton, she's so stupid; so I sat and watched
the streaming rain through the windo