Ann tugged at her pig-tail. All traces of grief had vanished from her plump and ruddy countenance. “I saw a man with earrings round at the back of the house just before dinner. I’m sure he was a circus man.” “What was he doing?” “Nothing. I told Edward and Jim about him, and they said he couldn’t be a circus man, because the circus was leaving. If he wasn’t, then he was a birate. He looked just like one.” “What would a pirate be doing here? Besides, there aren’t any pirates now――at least there are only a few. He may have been a Lascar.” “What’s a Lascar?” inquired Ann, with sudden interest. “He’s a kind of sailor――one that wears earrings and gets up mutinies. No captain will take a Lascar on his ship unless he’s short-handed and has to.” “I’d rather like to be in a mutiny,” Ann said. “You mightn’t like it if you got marooned――put on a desert island and left there.” “I _would_ like it. When I grow up I’m going to live on an island anyway.” “You’re on an island now,” Grif reminded her. “I mean a quite small island,” pursued Ann, reflectively. “One that you can see all round.” “If it’s so small as that there’ll be nobody there.” “There’ll be a coast-guard station there. I like coast-guards. And I’ll ask Balmer to come and stay with me: and maybe you――now and then. But I won’t have any ladies: I’ll have nothing but boys and men: and I’ll be their queen and send them to berform tasks; and then when they come back they’ll kneel down and kiss my hand, and I’ll think of something else for them to do.” “I’m afraid I’ll not be able to come to your island even if you _do_ ask me,” said Grif apologetically. “I’ll probably be in Arabia.” Ann felt her island growing very small indeed. She wished she had thought of Arabia.