ctly what they wanted. I can't
describe that week. I only know that Philip will never forget it. Just
think of all the things you could do on a magic island if you were there
with your dearest dear, and you'll know how Philip spent his time.

He enjoyed every minute of every hour of every day, and, best thing of
all, that week made him understand, as nothing else could have done,
that Helen still belonged to him, and that her marriage to Mr. Graham
had not made her any the less Philip's very own Helen.

And then came a day when Philip, swinging in a magnolia tree, looked out
to sea and cried out, 'A sail! a sail! Oh, Helen, here's the ark! Now
it's all over. Let's have Lucy to stay with us, and send the other
people away,' he added, sliding down the tree-trunk with his face very
serious.

'But we can't, dear,' Helen reminded him. 'The island's ours, you know;
and as long as it's ours no one else can land on it. We made it like
that, you know.'

'Then they can't land?'

'No,' said Helen.

'Can't we change the rule and let them land?'

'No,' said Helen.

'Oh, it _is_ a pity,' Philip said; 'because the island is the place for
islanders, isn't it?'

'Yes,' said Helen, 'and there's no fear of the sea here; you remember we
made it like that when we made the island?'

'Yes,' said Philip. 'Oh, Helen, I _don't_ want to.'

'Then don't,' said Helen.

'Ah, but I _do_ want to, too.'

'Then do,' said she.

'But don't you see, when you want to and don't want to at the same time,
what _are_ you to do? There are so many things to think of.'

'When it's like that, there's one thing you mustn't think of,' she said.

'What?' Philip asked.

'Yourself,' she said softly.

There was a silence, and then Philip suddenly hugged his sister and she
hugged him.

'I'll give it to them,' he said; 'it's no use. I know I ought to. I
shall only be uncomfortable if I don't.'

Helen laughed. 'My boy of boys!' she said. And then she looked sad. 'Boy
of my heart,' she said, 'you know it's not only giving up our island. If
we give it away I must go. It's the only place that there's a door into
out of my dreams.'

'I can't let you go,' he said.

'But you've got your deeds to do,' she said, 'and I can't help you in
those. Lucy can help you, but I can't. You like Lucy now, don't you?'

'Oh, I don't mind her,' said Philip; 'but it's _you_ I want, Helen.'

'Don't think about that,' she urged. 'Think what the islanders want.
Think w