ee the remains of the morning
glory. They kept silence also lest the thrill of it should tremble in
their voices. But at the sight of the spread table and the homely scents
of fried bacon and smoked mutton ham, Patsy became again very human, and
set herself down in the place of house-mistress with a ripple of glad
laughter.

"Only think, Stair!" she cooed low in her throat, "here all by
ourselves--a breakfast which I have prepared, eggs which I have found,
milk which I drew from the cow--(they are two such nice cows, Stair!),
and you and Whitefoot sitting opposite! Just ourselves two, Stair. Not a
chaperon--not a _gouvernante_, like the old horror the Princess used to
threaten me with. No felt-footed lacqueys always bringing you the wrong
thing, no Princess, no Miss Aline even! Oh, I declare I am so glad--that
I could--_take my breakfast!_"

Patsy broke off suddenly, making a wilful anti-climax to her speech,
and, as Stair knew very well, not in the least finishing as she had
meant to. But her housekeeping pride was aroused. He must eat. She would
heap his plate. She had heard him late last night moving about. Had he
not slept well? That was why she had let him sleep on this morning, but
he must not expect such indulgence every day. He would need to be out
and at the net fishing or among the flounders, for though they had
plenty for the present in their store-room, they did not know when they
might be succoured.

Then Stair put a question he had been thirsting to have answered all
night.

"Whose is this island, and who has given us the right to use all the
larder and live-stock?"

Patsy clapped her hands gleefully.

"Guess!" she cried--"three guesses!"

"_One_, wrong--no, not my father! _Two_, wrong, not Uncle Ju! THREE,
WRONG--not Miss Aline! You made me gasp that time. I thought you could
not miss it. We are here on this Island of Rathan as caretakers for Mr.
Kennedy McClure. These are his cows. His sheep are on the heuchs yonder,
and we have liberty to kill them for mutton when we weary of fish. These
are his hens I let out this morning, and he brought Jean here with
selected stores to make everything cosy for us!"

"And why does he do all this?" Stair inquired. Patsy flung up her head
and smiled dazzlingly.

"Who knows?" she said. "He was great friends with me in London. He made
the _Good Intent_ hurry up when I was ready--otherwise you might have
stayed a long time in prison. And this is better, eh, Sta