I have heard that people who live where there are volcanoes, get used to them so that they carry on their business just as if nothing was the matter. We were then living on the crust of a volcano which might blow us into the air at any time, but we had already become used to it, and as the autumn passed into winter, we almost forgot our danger. Sister Perpetua, indeed, tried titles once or twice, but she soon found that while the reverend mother had a house over her head, she meant to be mistress in it, and after doing penance three whole days in the vaulted room under the sacristy on a diet of bread and water, and not much of that, she was very meek and subdued for a while. Somehow or other the storm was diverted for that time. I suppose that Bishop Gardiner, being so great with the king, contrived to keep the matter from his knowledge. However it was, the apples were gathered and garnered in peace, the usual stock of faggots laid in, and we settled down to our in-door occupations as if nothing was the matter. The reverend mother had a great deal of work put in hand, and instead of our usual whispered conversations, we had loud reading in the Imitation of Christ, and other good books. Sometimes our mother would read us passages out of the Gospels, from a little written book which she held in her hand, copied I fancy from that same great Bible which was never put in the church. I had read many of them before in the great book of Master Tyndale's, which my uncle kept in his desk, and they set me thinking more than ever of mine old home. These readings were much liked by the serious part of our community, and as for the others, what ever they might feel, they knew enough to keep their own counsel. It was about this time, I remember being struck with the fact that in the whole Imitation, from beginning to end, there is not one single word or hint of any worship offered to the Virgin. I ventured to say as much once to Father Austin, with whom I still did a Latin lesson now and then, and to ask him what he thought was the reason; whereat he smiled, and said when I saw Saint Thomas in Paradise I might ask him. The orchards bore very plentifully that year, and we sold our crop at a good price. We were helping to pick up the last of them one fine October day, when old Adam remarked that he wondered who would have the ordering of those same trees another year. "Why, you yourself—why not?" said I. "Na, na, lassie, I'll no be here next year; at least I think not." "You do not think you are going to die?" said I, anxiously, for he was a great friend of mine. "Do you feel ill?" "No, I have my health well enough for one of my years. But we Islesmen have whiles a gliff of the second sight, and I have had strange visions concerning this house." "Oh, you are thinking about the visit of the commissioners!" said I. "But you see that has blown over and nothing has come of it."