ridge," explained Dodge,
laughing. "You must learn to row a boat; and then you can land at any
place, you know. But our island is more for ornament than for profit.
We don't expect to have a settlement there."

"Why wouldn't it be pretty to have a little house for the swans on it?
Joe Allen told me they could be taught to come on shore for their
feed."

"We will consider that proposal, my dear, when the island is in
existence," answered papa; "in the meantime you may think of a pretty
name for it."

CHAPTER VII.

PAT'S VISIT HOME.

I hope my readers have become so much interested in Pat Riley that
they will be as glad to hear from him as Bertie was.

We left him, as you know, in Mrs. Taylor's back chamber, making tops
for the children. In a few days he was able to go down stairs. The
first use he made of his liberty was to make a reel for Mrs. Taylor
to wind her yarn on.

Wishing to keep the boy employed, the good woman had borrowed a reel
of a neighbor, and set him to work winding thread. The contrivance
greatly delighted him. He examined it with the utmost care, pushing it
up and down, to fit it for a larger or smaller skein, much to the
amusement of the good woman.

"Did you never see one before?" she asked, smiling.

"No, ma'am, but it's very nice."

No more was said on the subject, and she never noticed that he
examined it again; but the third day after he was released from the
chamber he followed her one day into the pantry, and presented her a
new one made by his own hands.

"You won't have to borrow again," he said, his face all in a glow of
pleasure. "I'm going to try it now. I saved one skein on purpose."

Mrs. Taylor carried it out and exhibited it in triumph to the family.

"Did you do it all yourself?" asked Mr. Curtis, smiling his
approbation.

"Yes, sir; but I had seen the one up stairs. I made more holes though,
'cause that was too large for some skeins and not large enough for
others."

"You are a genius, Pat. I have no doubt you'll succeed, now that
you've resolved to try your best."

The day before he left for the school, Pat asked Mrs. Taylor's
permission to go and bid his father good-by. It was some weeks since
the old man had been there, though he promised to come in a day or
two. The good woman consented, though she told him the air was rather
chilly for a boy who had been so sick.

On his way he passed the spot where Bertie had first talked with him.
He stopped an