e?"

"Well, William, so we shall; and the pigeons also, when they have become
plentiful, if we remain here so long. We shall soon be well stocked and
live in plenty. But now you must help me to get the tent up and
everything in order, so that your mamma may find things comfortable on
her arrival, for she will be very tired, I dare say, walking through the
wood."

"Mamma is much better than she was," replied William. "I think she will
soon be quite strong again, especially when she comes to live at this
beautiful place."

"We have a great deal of work to do, more than we can get through before
the rainy season; which is a pity, but it can't helped; by this time
next year we shall be more comfortable."

"Why, what have we to do besides putting up the tents and shifting over
here?"

"In the first place we have to build a house, and that will take a long
while. Then we ought to make a little garden, and sow the seeds which
your father brought from England with him."

"Oh! that will be nice; where shall we make it, Ready?"

"We must put a fence across that point of land, and dig up all the
brushwood; the mould is very good."

"Then what next?"

"Then we shall want a storehouse for all the things we have got, and all
that are in the wood and on the beach: and consider what a many trips we
shall have to make with the little boat to bring them all round."

"Yes, that is very true, Ready. Have we anything more to do?"

"Plenty; we have to build a turtle-pond and a fish-pond, and a
bathing-place for Juno to wash the children in. But first we must make
a proper well at the spring, so as to have plenty of fresh water: now
there's enough for a year's hard work at least."

"Well, let us once get mamma and the children here, and we will work
hard."

"I should wish very much to see it all done, William," said Ready. "I
hope my life will be spared till it is done, at all events."

"But why do you say that, Ready? you are an old man, but you are strong
and healthy."

"I am so now; but what does the Book say?--`In the midst of life we are
in death.' You are young and healthy, and promise a long life; but who
knows but you may be summoned away tomorrow. Can I, then, an old man,
worn out with hardships, expect to live long? No--no, William! Still I
should like to remain here as long as I can be useful, and then I trust
I may depart in peace. I never wish to leave this island; and I have a
kind of feeling that