--and every place one knows of seems to
belong to somebody who wants it--all except the island!"

"What island? The one on the river?"

"No, no! Not so far as that. The island on our moat, I mean. We'll
build a little house for him, and he can have it all for his very
own."

"Wouldn't it--wouldn't it be rather difficult to build?" gasped
Aveline, dazed at the magnitude of her chum's idea.

"Oh, not impossible! There are heaps and heaps of railway sleepers
down in the wood heap, and we could pile them up into a hut. It's only
what people do out in Canada. Gibbie's always telling us tales of
women who emigrate to the backwoods, and build colonies of log-cabins.
Ave, you're not going to sleep again, are you?"

"N--no!" came a rather languid voice; "but how'll we ever get to the
island?"

"We'll make a raft. We'll do it to-morrow, you and I. Don't tell any
of the others yet. Morvyth's been so nasty lately, I'm fed up with
her, and Ardiune would only laugh. When we've got the thing really
started, we'll take them over and let them help, but not till then.
Will you promise to keep it an absolute secret?"

"I'll promise anything you like"--wearily--"if you'll only go back to
your own bed."

"All right, I'm off now--but just remember you're not to mention it to
a single soul."

Raymonde, next day, was tremendously full of her new scheme. It
savoured of romance. Old Wilkinson would be a combination of a
mediaeval hermit and Robinson Crusoe, and in imagination she already
saw him installed in a picturesque log-cabin, with his Manx cat and
his tame jackdaw for company. Naturally the first step was to take
possession of the island. It lay in the middle of the moat, a reedy
little domain covered with willows and bushes. It had never yet been
explored by the school, for the simple reason that there had been no
means of gaining access to it. The water was too deep for wading, and
Miss Beasley had utterly vetoed the suggestion of procuring a punt.
Raymonde had cast longing eyes at it many times before, but not until
now had she made any real effort to reach it. She thought out her
plans carefully during the day--considerably to the detriment of her
lessons--and when afternoon recreation time came round she linked
Aveline's arm firmly in hers, and led her to the lumber yard. Here,
piled up behind the barn, was a large stack of wood stored for
fuel--old railway sleepers, bits of broken fencing, packing-cases,
tumbled-down tr