Raymonde looked at her scornfully. "Aveline Kerby, if you don't feel yourself up to this business, please back out of it at once, and I'll go and fetch Morvyth instead. She may be a blighter in some things, but she doesn't funk!" "No more do I," declared Aveline, suddenly assuming an air of dignified abandon, reminiscent of the heroes of coral-island stories. "I'm ready to brave anything, especially for the sake of old Wilkinson. Don't tip the thing so hard at your end! You've made me trap my fingers!" They launched their craft from the water-garden, treading ruthlessly on Linda's irises and Hermie's cherished forget-me-nots. It seemed to float all right, so they crawled on, and squatted on the cross-beams on either side of it to preserve its balance. A good push with their poles sent them well out on to the moat. It was really a delightful sensation sailing amongst the duckweed and arrow-head leaves, although their shoes and skirts got wet from the water which oozed up between the planks. The raft behaved splendidly, and, propelled by the poles, made quite a steady passage. They had soon crossed the piece of water, and scrambled out upon the island. It was a rather overgrown, brambly little domain, and to penetrate its fastnesses proved a scratchy performance, resulting in a long rent down the front of Raymonde's skirt, and several tears in Aveline's muslin blouse, to say nothing of wounds on wrists and ankles. There was quite a clearing in the middle, with soft, mossy grass and clumps of hemp agrimony, and actually a small apple-tree with nine apples upon it. They were green and very sour, but the girls each sampled one, with a kind of feeling that by so doing they were taking formal possession of the territory, though, with Paradise for an analogy, it should have been just the reverse. "We'll have the log-cabin exactly here," said Raymonde, munching abstractedly. "It'll face the sunset, and he can sit and watch the glowing west, and hear the evening bells, and--and----" "Smoke his pipe," suggested Aveline unromantically. "He generally seems most grateful of all when one gives him tobacco." "We shall be able to see him sitting there," continued Raymonde, in her most meditative mood. "There'll be a rose-tree planted beside the door, and nasturtiums and other thingumbobs for the bees. It'll make a beautiful end to his declining years." "Yes," agreed Aveline, suppressing a yawn. She was not so enthusiastic over the scheme as her chum, and her apple had been much too sour to be really enjoyed. Raymonde sat twining pieces of grass round her finger; her eyes were dreamy, and she hummed "Those Evening Bells," which the singing class had learnt only the week before. At that identical moment the clang of a very different bell disturbed the echoes. The girls sprang to their feet. "Prep.!" they gasped in consternation.