Standing on a flat shelf of rock which rose about six inches above the level of the water was a little man, who, from the cut of his clothes, was evidently a naval man. He looked so smart that Margaret made sure he must be an admiral at least, though instead of the blue cloth suit of an ordinary, every day admiral, this little man wore a bright green cocked hat with a long red tassel on the top of it; a gold-laced swallow-tailed coat of cherry-colored silk; green-and-white striped knee breeches; white silk stockings; and white shoes with cherry-colored rosettes. Altogether he was very bright and pretty to look at.

But the most remarkable thing about him was his size.

"He's just about as tall as Mother's new, long-handled parasol," thought Margaret. "And yet he isn't a boy, for he has gray hair and gray whiskers. What red cheeks he has, too: they're just as red as Edward's new doll's were before he washed them in the bath-tub with the nail brush. I wonder why he keeps on ringing that bell. He must be waiting for somebody."

If he was waiting for somebody, he was not worrying himself much about it, for he was standing in a careless attitude with his feet crossed, and instead of looking out for the people to come, his eyes were fixed on a little silver bell which, holding it out at arm's length between his finger and thumb, he kept tinkling and tinkling as though he had nothing else in the world to do; all the time smiling away to himself in the most cheerful and contented manner.

Margaret took a step forward, when her shadow—that very same shadow she had been vainly pursuing all morning—her shadow fell on the rock at the little man's feet. He looked up, and instantly his whole manner changed. He stopped ringing his bell, and clapping his heels together he made a bow so low that the red tassel on his hat swept the ground.

"If your Royal Highness is ready—" he began, when Margaret interrupted him.

"My—my what, did you say?" she asked. "I didn't quite understand. My sister, do you mean? I'll call her."

Turning to do so, she found that Frances, whom she had left asleep under the trees, was standing close beside her holding her hand—and the curious thing about it was that she was not in the least surprised.

"Isn't he pretty!" whispered Frances. "What red cheeks he has! What was he saying to you? Let's go down and talk to him. Shall we?"

The two little girls, after hunting about for a bit, found an easy place to climb down, when they advanced toward the little man, followed by Periwinkle, who, being not quite easy in his mind, kept close at their heels, growling to himself all the time in an undertone.

As they approached him, the Admiral greeted them with another low bow, lower even than the first one. In fact, he bowed so very low that his joints creaked and then stuck. Do what he would he could not straighten up again.

"Oh, dear!" cried Margaret. "He's caught somehow. Come and help me, Frances."

So saying, she picked up the little Admiral and held him close against her with both arms around his chest. In this position his feet stuck straight out in front of him, when Frances, taking hold of his ankles, pressed them down until he came straight again with a snap.

"Your Royal Highnesses are most condescending," said the polite little Admiral gratefully, bowing once more, though this time with greater caution. "The fact is," he went on to explain, "I had the misfortune to fall into the sea yesterday and my joints became swollen in consequence."

"What!" cried Frances. "Does it make your joints swell if you—?"

But here the Admiral interrupted her.

"I don't wonder you are surprised," said he, with a gratified smile. "I know it must seem strange to you to be told that even we, Hardwoods—"

"You are a Hardwood, then, are you?" asked Margaret in a polite tone of inquiry. For, while she did not understand what the little Admiral meant by calling himself a Hardwood, she did not wish to appear too inquisitive.

"I have that honor," replied the Admiral. "In fact, all the officers of the army and navy are Hardwoods, as well as all the members of the Court circle, with the single exception of the Court Crier. He belongs to the Weeping Willow family. But as I was going to say," he went on, "even a Hardwood will swell if he stays in the water nine hours, as I did."

"Nine hours!" cried Frances. "Why, we only stay in twenty minutes twice a week, when we have our swimming lesson. What did you stay in so long for?"

"It was not intentional, I beg to assure you," replied the Admiral. "Far from it. I fell into the sea, and as the tide was going out at the time I had to go with it; and when it did turn and washed me back again, I couldn't find the island."

"The island! What island?" asked Frances.

The little man cocked up his eyebrows in surprise at the question.

"What island?" he repeated. "Why, the Floating Island, of course," pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Oh! So you come from the Floating Islands, do you!" exclaimed Margaret.

"Yes. You will have noticed, I dare say, how the islands keep coming and going and breaking in pieces and changing their shapes. Well, that is what they did yesterday, and every time I thought I was going to land I found that the island had moved away and I had to begin all over again."

"That was horrid," remarked Frances. "Weren't you afraid of being drowned?"

At this question the little Admiral, in spite of his politeness, could not help laughing.

"Drowned!" he cried. "We, Hardwoods, don't get drowned. Why, the Lord Chancellor was washed off the island once and floated about for three months. We all thought he was gone for good, but he turned up again one day none the worse except that his joints wouldn't work for a couple of weeks and nearly all his paint had washed off."

"His paint!" cried Margaret, glancing at the little man's red cheeks. "What is he made of, then?"

"He is one of the Quartered-Oaks—written with a hyphen—a very good family, very hard and very serviceable; though—Ahem!—not quite of such quality as the Boxwoods."

He said this with such a self-conscious air that Margaret ventured a guess.

"You are a—"

The little man laid his right hand on his heart, stuck out his left elbow and bent his body at the hips. With his eyes half closed and with a beaming smile, he said:

"Your Royal Highness has guessed right. I am of the Boxwoods."

"And the Boxwoods are harder than the Quartered Oaks, are they?" asked Margaret.

By way of reply, the little Admiral picked up a pebble and tapped himself on the cheek with it. It sounded like clapping the backs of two hair-brushes together.

"Why!" exclaimed Frances. "You are as hard as—as hard as a door-knob!"

The little man was evidently much pleased with the compliment. Becoming confidential, he stepped forward and said in a low tone:

"Between ourselves, Ladies, the Boxwood family is the hardest on the island. Nobody disputes our position; we come next to the King, himself."

"The King!" cried both children, inquiringly.

"His Majesty, King Coco Bolo," replied the little Admiral, drawing himself up very straight and lifting his cocked hat as high as his short arm would permit.

"But, bless my paint and spangles!" he cried. "What am I thinking of? Here have I been chattering away, forgetting all the time what I came for."

So saying, he removed his cocked hat again and took out of the lining a large, square letter, which he handed to Margaret; and having done so, he retired a few steps, where he stood with his arms a-kimbo and his head on one side, smiling away at nothing. "Just as if he had been taking lessons in cheerfulness and was practising while he waited," thought Frances.

The two children, with their heads close together, each holding a corner of the envelope, spelt out the address. It read:

"To Margaret and Frances. Courtesy of Admiral Boxwood."

"Then he is an Admiral," whispered Margaret, peeping over the top of the envelope at the smiling little gentleman. "That's why he wears a cocked hat and is so polite."

"What does it mean by saying, 'Courtesy of Admiral Boxwood'?" asked Frances. "Do you think they made a mistake and meant to say 'Courtesy to Admiral Boxwood'?"

"Perhaps they did," replied Margaret. "Anyhow, it's better to be too polite than not polite enough, so let's courtesy to him."

Standing up side by side and holding out their frocks with both hands, the two little girls made their very best "cheeses" to the Admiral; upon which the Admiral took off his cocked hat with a flourish and bowed, until the squeaking of his joints warned him to straighten up again.

"What is the letter about?" asked Margaret, turning it over and over. "Here's a big 'C. B. R.' on the back, done in red letters with a gold crown over them. What does C. B. R. mean?"

"Coco Bolo Rex," replied the Admiral, adding: "Rex, you know, means King."

"Oh, I see. Thank you. No, I didn't know. But what is the King writing to us for?"

"Perhaps your Royal Highness had better read the letter and see," replied the Admiral—which really did seem like a very sensible suggestion.

"I'm not very good at reading writing yet," said Margaret, as she drew the letter from the envelope, "but—Oh! It's printed in capital letters. That's easier. It looks like a bill of fare. I'll see if I can read it.

'COCO BOLO
KING OF THE FLOATING ISLANDS
PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS
TO
MARGARET AND FRANCES
AND
REQUESTS THE PLEASURE OF THEIR
COMPANY
AT A GARDEN PARTY
TO MEET
HIS GRACE, THE ARCHBISHOP
OF
TIMBUCTOO-AND-A-HALF'"

"Oh, what fun!" cried Frances, clapping her hands and dancing about. "A garden party! How kind of the King to ask us! Let's go, Margaret."

"Yes, it's very kind of the King; and I should like to go, of course," replied her sister; "but how are we to get there?"

"Nothing easier," remarked the Admiral. "His Majesty is not one to do things by halves. He has sent the royal yacht for your accommodation."

He waved his hand toward the water, where the two little girls noticed for the first time that a boat was gently bobbing up and down upon the swell.