ong
hands to help her. Milk and butter came from Mr. Downs's every other
day, and papa was very good and considerate about his food, and quite
contented with a dinner of potatoes or mush if nothing better was to
be had, so the little housekeeper did not have any heavy burden on her
mind so far as he was concerned.

The boat proved a great comfort when it came, which was not till more
than a month after their settlement on Causey Island. Eyebright took
regular rowing lessons and practised diligently, so that after a few
weeks she became really expert, and papa could trust her to go alone
as far as the village, when the weather was fair and the sea smooth.
These rows to and fro were the greatest treats and refreshments after
house-work. Sometimes it happened that her errands kept her till
sunset, and she floated home on the incoming tide, just dipping the
oars gently in now and then, and carried along by the current and a
"singing" wind, which followed close behind and pushed the boat on its
way. These were Eyebright's real "play" times. She kept a story going
about a princess and a boat, and some water-fairies and a
water-prince, and whenever the chance came for a solitary row, she
"acted" it by herself in the old pleasant way, always wishing that
Bessie or some other girl could be along to play it with her. Another
girl,--some one to share work and fun, waking and sleeping, with
her,--that was all which was wanted, she thought, to make Causey
Island as pleasant as Tunxet.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX.

SHUT UP IN THE OVEN.

You will probably think that it was a dish of pork-and-beans, or an
Indian pudding of the good, old-fashioned kind, which was shut up in
the Oven. Not at all. You are quite mistaken. The thing shut up in the
Oven was Eyebright herself! And the Oven was quite different from any
thing you are thinking of,--cold, not hot; wet, not dry; with a door
made of green sea-water instead of black iron. This sounds like a
conundrum; and, as that is hardly fair, I will proceed to unriddle it
at once and tell you all about it.

The Oven was a sort of cave or grotto in the cliffs, four miles from
Scrapplehead, but rather less than three from the causeway. Its real
name was "The Devil's Oven." Country people, and Maine country people
above all others, are very fond of calling all sorts of strange and
striking places after the devil. If Eyebright had ever heard the whole
name, perhaps she might not hav