"I guess so. All but into the kitchen. Don't you put your head in there this airly. The cook--'chef' he likes us to call him--gets up with a grouch. I've noticed--dunno why it is!--most cooks at sea are grouchy. And if you wanter git into a flare with a woman ashore, you try to moor alongside o' one on bakin' day. Been me that had to decide this here present war," went on Mr. Littlefield, "I'd recruit all the cooks and send 'em over against them Germans right at the start. Cooks is fighters, take it from me." "Oh, dear me!" murmured Carolyn, "I hope nobody'll have to go to war from over here. If we were in the war, wouldn't it be dang'rous for us to stay 'way out here in the ocean? Maybe submarine boats would surround the island. _Then_ what would we do?" "Jest like a whaleboat surrounded by sharks? Uh-huh! That would be tough, leetle gal, and no mistake." Then his eyes twinkled and he favoured her with a sly smile. "Never mind. Won't never be no war _on_ this island." "Oh! Are you sure?" demanded Carolyn May. "Sure as sure." "Why not?" asked she, falling into the trap. "'Cause there's so many Littlefields here that the Motts and the Allens couldn't never Dodge the Balls," chuckled the wooden-legged man. "Ye won't jest understand that till ye get acquainted with more folks here. But the Balls and the Motts, and the Allens, and the Dodges, to say nothin' of us Littlefields, purt' nigh inhabit this island and all the outskirts thereof." Carolyn May laughed politely, although she did not understand the punning on the islanders' family names. She and Prince ran off the porch and found a rutted path leading through the fields behind the hotel. A long way to the southward and outlined clearly in the morning light was the shaft of the South, or Highland, Light. To the right hand and near the middle of the island was another shaft with long arms attached. Carolyn had seen pictures of windmills. There was one in Papa Cameron's _Don Quixote_. Carolyn knew she would like to go to that windmill and see the miller grind corn. Beyond the mill, and on the highest point of land of any she could see, was a tower with a railed platform built around the top of it. Prince found something much nearer at hand to interest him; he ran into a flock of young turkeys and became almost cross-eyed trying to follow them all as they scattered. "Now, Princey!" exclaimed Carolyn, as he came back to her much abashed under the lash of her tongue. "Are you _always_ going to be bad like that when you see anything that wears feathers? I am ashamed of you! Now we have come to a new place, you must behave. Nobody will love you at all if you are so obnox-u-ous." That last word, perhaps, quenched the dog's ardour. He walked back to the hotel with his little mistress in a very sedate fashion. Others of the guests were up and out now. There were sounds from kitchenward that announced the fact that breakfast was in preparation.