"There we were, you see. It was black night, and we didn't know which way to turn, but here were these empty rooms, all nice and clean, waiting for us. And it will be the same way about your getting a place if you don't lose faith and courage. You'll float along awhile farther, and when you're least expecting it, you'll come on your island that's been waiting for you all the time." "Oh, you don't know what you're talking about, Flip," answered Alec, impatiently, pounding away harder than ever. "You make me tired." "I do know what I'm talking about," she retorted, scrambling to her feet; "and I'll let you know, sir, my singing doesn't set your teeth on edge half as bad as your sour looks do mine. I wouldn't be such a grumble-bug! You act like a baby instead of a boy who prides himself on being old enough to shave." With this parting thrust, she flounced out of the room, unmindful of what he called after her, but she thought, guiltily, as she ran, "Now I've done it! He'll be furious all day; but I just had to! He needed somebody to shake him up out of himself, and I don't care!" Nevertheless, she sang no more that day, and a few tears dropped on her books, as she made a place for them on the shelves. All Alec's had been burned. He had lost more than any of them, for his was the only up-stairs room that was occupied. Philippa loved her brother too dearly not to suffer with him in all his losses and disappointments. It was a day of hard work for all of them, but four energetic, determined people can accomplish much, especially when one is a ten-year-old boy, whose sturdy legs can make countless trips up and down stairs without tiring, and another is an athletic young fellow with the endurance of a man. Late in the afternoon, Alec made a final round of inspection. Up-stairs the two bedrooms were in spotless order. They were furnished even better than those in the old house, for the library rugs and curtains had found place there, with some of the best pictures and ornaments. Down-stairs Philippa was standing in the centre of the room, about to remove the cover and lamp from the dining-room table. "Now it is the parlour," she said, gaily, waving her hand toward the old piano, the bookcases, and the familiar bric-a-brac on the mantel. "But shut your eyes a minute, and--_abracadabra!_ it's the dining-room." As she spoke, she whisked a white cloth on the old claw-footed mahogany table, and, throwing open a closet door, displayed the orderly rows of china. "We'll not have much for supper to-night, but I'm bound it shall be set out in style to celebrate our house-warming; so, Mack, if you have any legs left to toddle on, I wish you'd run out and get me a handful of purple asters to put in this glass bowl. I am glad that it wasn't broken. Some kind but agitated friend pitched it out of the window into the geranium bed."