"No. That's all. Jimmy and Billy can go. She shall stay here with me." This time the father kept his face tight closed. There was no help at all from him. He looked the other way, stiff as a seal-gaff. The mate was already on his way to the beach, with the two naked little boys wriggling under his arms. They were red and blue all over with the stains of the berries--a beautiful sight. "All right, Mrs. Mitchell. We must go on board now. Come with us, and we'll give you the things." Then there was joy for that poor, hungry family. They were all clad in stout clothing that would keep out the wind. A gun was lent to the father, and his shattered fowling-piece was fixed up by the clever engineer, till it was "most as good as new." The eldest boy, John, would be big enough to use it. The powder and shot were dug out of the lockers: tins of condensed milk were found for the poor little shrimp of a baby. The second axe--a gorgeous prize--went into the growing pile of gifts: soap, needles and thread, shoes and stockings, potatoes, some flour, a package of tea, sugar, and other precious things went into two oilskin bags, and then over the rail into the Mitchells' leaky, tossing boat. Meanwhile an astonishing change was taking place in the two boys. They were getting a bath on the deck, in the wind and snow, with a bucket and a scrubbing-brush, and after they were dressed they had their hair cut. Their mother stared and stared as the boat rowed away. She could hardly believe they were hers. "Good-by, Doctor. Thank you." "Good-by, Mrs. Mitchell. We'll take good care of them." Father said nothing. He was rowing the boat. But no doubt he was thinking very grateful thoughts. The boys wept a little, silently as they looked their last on their patched and tattered home. The family they left behind them would make a journey of a hundred miles in that rotten boat to a winter hut on the mainland. But they looked at each other, washed and dressed, with all that wild hair pruned away--and then they began to laugh at each other as the biggest joke in their short lives. After they reached St. Anthony and were installed in the Orphanage, they were two of the happiest and most popular lads in the place. They purred like pleased kittens and lost no chance to show how much they liked the people who were doing so much for them. They studied hard, and put the same driving spirit into play. It could be seen that the little "heathen" of the island were in a fair way to become in time the leaders of men who are needed in all walks of life. Dr. Grenfell felt well rewarded for all the trouble he had taken for Jimmy and Billy and all their family. The "liveyeres," as those who "live here" are called, may lead rough, hard lives. But for that very reason they welcome books, and music, and all such things.