It belonged to his mother's
great-uncle, an old whaling captain, who lived there after an eccentric
fashion of his own. It seems that this ship was stranded on this island
more than fifty years ago, and he fixed up the wreck, and lived there
until his death this past month. The place has no value, Father Tom
thinks; but he spent two of the jolliest summers of his own boyhood with
an old Captain Kane at Killykinick."

"Killykinick?" echoed Brother Bart. "That sounds Irish, Father."

"It does," laughed Father Regan. "Perhaps the old captain was an Irishman.
At any rate, there he lived, showing a light every night at his masthead
to warn other ships off,--which was quite unnecessary of course, as the
government attends to all such matters now."

"It must be a queer sort of a place," said Brother Bart, doubtfully. "But
it might do Laddie good to get a whiff of the salt air and a swim in the
sea. He isn't well, Brother Timothy says, and as everyone can see. He has
a touch of the fever every day; and as for weight, Dan Dolan would make
two of him. And his mother died before she was five and twenty. God's holy
will be done!" Brother Bart's voice broke at the words. "But I'm thinking
Laddie isn't long for this world, Father. There's an angel-look in his
face that I don't like to see." And the old Brother shook his head
lugubriously.

Father Regan laughed.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that! I've seen plenty of just such angels,
Brother Bart, and they grew up into very hardy, mortal men, who had to
scuffle their way through life like the rest of us. But Freddy is looking
a little peaked of late, as I noticed on Commencement Day. I think that,
as you say, a breath of salt air would be good for him. We might send all
four off together to this place of his."

"Is it Dan Dolan with the rest?" asked Brother Bart, in dismay.

"Why, of course! We couldn't keep poor Dan here all alone," was the
answer.

"He'll have Laddie climbing the rocks and swimming the seas like--like a
wild Indian," said the good man, despairingly.

"What! That angel boy of yours, Brother Bart?" laughed the priest.

"Aye, aye!" answered the good Brother. "I'm not denying that Laddie has a
wild streak in him. It came from his poor young father, I suppose. Arrah!
has there never been word or sign from him, Father?" queried Brother Bart,
sorrowfully.

"Never," was the grave reply,--"not since he disappeared so strangely six
years ago. I presume he is dea