And so it was quite ready, and with what pride and satisfaction we viewed it. We took little private excursions around it; we made innumerable drives into it; we gave it affectionate little pattings, as if it was a child; we smoothed down little inequalities; we utterly denied the existence of a smell of paint, an idea hazarded by Madame. Schillie had a doubt it was rather on one side, which doubt was driven to the winds. Sybil suggested a wish that it had been made higher, for which she was scouted by the older ones, and nearly tickled to death by the younger ones. Not even the remembrance of our home put us out of conceit of our new, but certainly most clumsy mansion. Oh home! That lovely home? Are we to see it again, or is it only to be seen in a dream of the past; and our kith and kin, our kind good neighbours, all that we loved so much, were we to see them no more? But this was Christmas-day.

The young ones had swept and decorated our church, as well as they could in imitation of the churches at home. Certainly nothing could be more gorgeous than the long trailing creepers that hung suspended all round, some with scarlet flowers, some bright blue, the magnificent hibiscus, the beautiful bell-shaped datura, with innumerable others, to which we could give no names.

This was to be a complete holiday. We dressed in silks and satins, we exchanged gifts, we offered to each other the proper Christmas greeting. Can I say that no heart was sad, that no remembrance of past Christmases haunted the celebration of this day? It is but too true that sad thoughts arose, but they were not for ourselves.

I must, however, proceed with the opening of the new house, which was also to have a name given it. After church we all helped to get dinner ready. Schillie cooked with Jenny, being determined to have some superb turtle soup. I made by her orders some lime punch, Hargrave boiled vegetables of all kinds, the girls got fruit and flowers, Madame arranged them, and the boys were getting the fish. I went into the kitchen to ask Schillie some question relative to the punch, and was sent out with a word and a blow almost. Her face was blazing like a warming pan, the soup was at its most important crisis. Gatty hearing the explosion of wrath, came as was her usual custom to join in the mÊlÉe, also got a shower of invectives, but, knowing the soup-pot could not be left, she stood her ground, and occupied herself in various petty acts of mischief. For instance, the new cook had a perfect series of cloths and such like articles pinned to her when she made her appearance. Hargrave found all the gourds and pipkins into which she had put the vegetables changed, and, not being naturally sweet tempered, she declared, "Miss Gertrude was the most aggravatingest creature she ever met, and she would not serve her for a pound a day." But all ended well, and the dinner was served. We had boiled chickens at the top, and roast chickens at the bottom, and we had roast ducks on both sides, and the great bowl of turtle soup was in the middle, with two jugs of lime punch each side, and we had guava jelly in two places, and a pumpkin pie, and roasted yams, and rice and fruit mixed together of all kinds. In fact, it was a perfect Lord Mayor's feast. Schillie had insisted on dining like Christians, as she called it, with dinner napkins and finger glasses. The rest of the dinner table was covered with fruits and flowers, such as I am sure no Lord Mayor ever saw at his table. Grace was said. Schillie, with the dinner napkin spread out with an air, her face still glowing, but bland in the extreme knowing that she had achieved a triumph of cookery, proceeded to serve the soup. I being the first to taste it pronounced it delicious. Madame thought it the best she had ever tasted! when we heard an exclamation from Schillie, "In the name of all that's ridiculous what's in the soup?" said she, turning wrathfully to Jenny. "Indeed, Madam, you poured it out of the pan yourself, and I only brought it in." "What can it be, here is something hard at the bottom rolling about, and I declare everything was stewed to a sponge when I last stirred it," continued she in rising choler.

Gatty (rising with great alacrity).—"If you please, little Mother, shall I try to fish it out?"

Schillie.—"Fish fiddlesticks out, indeed, Miss Gatty. Ah you may look as demure as you like, I'll be bound you are at the bottom of this mischief. I remember now, when I was taking off these rags you pinned on me, my back was turned. Now, tell me this instant, you young crocodile, what have you been putting in the soup?"

Gatty.—"If you please, little Mother, don't be so angry, it's only a stone, and I washed it quite clean."

Schillie.—"Then take that stone for your dinner, Miss, and nothing else shall you have."

This threat of course went for nothing, and Gatty had as much dinner as any of us, and, perhaps, rather more, considering that she was nearly the biggest of us all, and also never being still, she required more nourishment to keep up the demand upon the constitution.

We made Jenny and Hargrave dine with us. Hargrave mincing her words, looking dignified, and eating next to nothing, because she thought it more ladylike; while Jenny sat between her two dear boys, and made nearly as much noise as they did, swallowing all they made her taste out of their own plates, though she was helped out of the same dishes they were. The chattering on all sides could only equal the eating. I proposed the health of the new house with the first glass of lime punch. This was drank with great applause, and a discussion ensued as to what we should call it.

Schillie (with her mouth full of turtle).—"Pooh, pooh, use your brains for some other purpose. It's a house, is it not? Then why not call it a house!"

Sybil.—"But all houses have names to distinguish them."

Schillie.—"Alack, if you are not a young noodle. Pray, who has got a house here besides? A great boon it would be to have some neighbours to whom one could talk common sense."

Serena.—"Oh, we will talk as much common sense as you like, little Mother; and the first thing I shall say is, though there is but one house in the island, we may just as well make it as like home as we can, and call it the same name."

I nodded approvingly to the dear girl for her nice thought. Madame's pocket handkerchief was in requisition, while Schillie, who seemed to favour Serena's remarks with more attention than any of the others, said, "Call it any name you like, my dear child, if it gives you the smallest pleasure; only you will see house it is, and house it will be called, until a hurricane blows it down."

"Oh don't, my dear Madam," murmured Madame. "Hurricanes will come," repeated Schillie. "I would oblige you if I could, but in this particular I am not clerk of the works, and have no control."

"Then," said Sybil, "we will call it Maescelyn."

"No," said Oscar, "I won't have it called that. The real Maescelyn is a castle, very large, airy, and handsome to look at, and this is a dingy little house, with no windows in it."

What a start we all gave. It was too true. Even the clerk of the works looked quite silly. The house that had cost us such infinite labour, on which we looked with such pride and affection, had no windows of any kind or sort in its principal room. It is true the door was very wide, it is true that floods of light poured in through it, but, suppose we had to shut the door (that is when we had made one) what could we do then? It is true the little bed-rooms had each their little pigeon holes for light and ventilation, and that the back kitchen was very airy, but our hall, dining-room, drawing-room, school-room (the pride of our hearts and delight of our eyes) had no windows whatever. No wonder we all felt the remark was true. Felix spoke first, but only in a whisper, which whisper passed round among the young ones, and marvellously restored their equanimity. "There was no possibility of doing lessons in the dark." As Madame became aware of this telegraphic dispatch, and saw its effect, she grew quite nervous, which always caused her to lose her voice. In vain she attempted an expostulation, and, what between her efforts and the rising exultation, I began to apprehend she would have a fit, so I comforted her, and said, "Never mind, Madame, we will have a window without doubt somewhere, and at present you see we don't want one, for the door throws in so much light, that we never found out we ought to have windows." I don't think the clerk of the works spoke for the next half hour, she was so annoyed; but, what we thought a great misfortune proved afterwards a very desirable thing, for it was most refreshing in the glaring sunshine and hot baking air to come into the dark cool house, the walls of which being so thick, and filled up with clay, preventing the heat penetrating into it.

So we carried on the discussion about the name; Madame, Sybil, Serena, and Winifred all for calling it Maescelyn. Oscar, Felix, Lilly, and Jenny all against it. The little Mother, not having recovered herself gave no name, Gatty was waiting for her opinion before she gave any, for, though in constant warfare, their similarity of tastes made them in reality sworn friends. Hargrave also would give no name, principally because she said, "It was a 'orrifying place, and very outrageous," by which we suppose she meant outlandish. Though urged by the little ones, whom she suspected were laughing at her, to explain, she would not, but went off into a discussion upon dress, and, bidding the young ladies to look at her Mistress dressed in Christmas robes, with her hair so beautifully plaited in a basket plait, and her curls so smooth and bright, and her black satin gown sitting and hanging so becomingly and well. "And then to think she could like such a 'ole of an hisland, where no one could see how she 'ad hattired her Mistress, and to give such a 'eathen place a name too, was more than she could bear." So the girls who loved to tease her, declared her Mistress did not look one bit better than the rest of the party, and that Madame's neat plain white cap was the prettiest thing at the dinner table, or Jenny's smart blue one, with bows and ends all over it. As she was too-matter-of-fact to see any joke in this, and as her Mistress's hair was her weak point, she waxed wrath, and began a splendid description, misplacing all the h's, and making such a sad havoc amongst her parts of speech, that it was difficult to make out what she wished us must to admire, whether her Mistress, or diamonds, or black velvet, herself or hair. I had the casting vote in giving a name to the house, but, previously, I thought it as well that we should give a name to our island. "Certainly, certainly," was said on all sides, and also most voices decided it should be a Welsh name; therefore, in a glass of lime punch, after a long discussion, we christened our island "Yr Ynys Unyg," the last word, Unyg, being pronounced as inig. This in English signified "The Lonely Island." Much as I wished all my dear companions to feel happy, and to be as much at home in our painful situation as circumstances would allow, and, much also as I liked the notion of our calling everything about us by home names, I yet shrunk from giving the name of our beloved home to the hut in which we now seemed doomed to pass our days. Several times I attempted to begin upon the subject, but it was too painful and I dared not trust my voice, lest its faltering should show my companions that this Christmas-day was not one of unmixed pleasure, and I was the more anxious to restrain my feelings as I could easily perceive that a little was only wanting to turn our day of feasting into one of mourning. It was not, therefore, until repeated entreaties had been urged, that, at last, I said somewhat shortly, and with an effort of hilarity, "I think we will call our house 'Cartref Pellenig,' or 'The Distant Home,' because—because—"

Schillie.—"Well, why, because."

"Oh hush, hush, cousin Schillie," said Lilly, who was always impetuous, and, throwing her arms round me, she continued, "Don't, dear Mama, my own Mother, don't cry, I cannot bear it. We shall see home again, we shall not always live here, we will be so good, we will do everything to please you. Oh Mother, my own darling Mother, don't cry so."

And so all my efforts were in vain, we were all upset, and the little house, so late the scene of merriment, now was filled with the voices of lamentation and woe. Each in their different way mourned and wept, but, as I said before, it was not so much for ourselves as for others.

We had been so busy, and had so much on our minds that we had thought of little else than mending our own condition, and doing all we could to make ourselves comfortable. To the olden heads it had been a time of great anxiety and trouble, while the younger ones had been forced out of their proper sphere of dependance, into that of companions, helpers, and advisers. We had, therefore, but little time to think of those who, it now struck us, on this Christmas-day, for the first time, would be suffering under fear and anxiety for our fate.

The same feelings that were so forcibly striking us of the relations, friends, and neighbours with whom we had always exchanged the happy Christmas greetings, would, we now began to feel, also strike them. In our family what gaps would be seen in the heretofore merry Christmas party. I looked round, Schillie was separated from her children, Gatty, ZoË, Winifred, Madame, even the poor servants, how many mourning households would there be? Not because we were missing from the Christmas party, as that was expected, but because they must be aware that something had occurred. They must now be suffering under that worst of all fears, doubt and apprehension. Eight months had passed since we had seen them, and six must have gone by since they had heard from us. There could be no doubt that, painful as our feelings were, they were now most to be pitied. Oh how we longed for the wings of a bird to fly over, and set them at rest. How the more we wept and talked about them, the more unbearable and painful grew this feeling. All that we had undergone; all that we seemed likely to undergo, appeared but as a drop on the ocean compared to the mourning and sorrow which we knew were filling the hearts of so many households, weeping, as they would be at the mysterious and unknown fate of those they loved so much. We were safe, we were well, we were comparatively happy, yet we could not tell this, and, perhaps at the time, the very time, we were celebrating our housewarming and Christmas dinner, they were lamenting us as dead.

Will it be wondered at that our Christmas-day ended in sorrow, and that we wept for those weeping for us. We talked over all they might be thinking and doing. Every speech, every sentence ending, "Oh if we could only tell them, if they could only peep into the rude hut, and see the healthy blooming faces contained therein, albeit each face was bedewed with tears, each voice was choking with sorrow." This picture would they see. The rustic rough house, with its wide open entrance, showing the table strewn with the wrecks of our feast, but brilliant with flowers and fruit. Lying on a rude grass cushion was the Mother, her hair all dishevelled with sorrow, her face lengthened with woe; close by her, with her face hidden from sight, was the little Mother; Madame leaning far back in her chair, with a handkerchief over her face, was weeping bitterly behind it; the six girls, in various groups, about the two Mothers, were each, though deeply sorrowful, trying in their own sweet ways, to speak of hope and comfort; the two boys, at a little distance, were sitting on the ground, Oscar grave and sorrowful, Felix weeping and crying while he fed his monkey to keep it quiet; the servants had retired. Beyond, through the door, was seen the deep blue quiet sea, over which we were so anxious to fly, while the rich dark foliage of the trees appeared cool and refreshing against the glowing sky. But this sadness could not last long in a party animated by christian hopes, sustained by christian faith; ere the hour for evening service arrived our sorrow grew lighter, each seemed to feel in the stored words an individual comfort, and we retired to rest committing the consolation of all near and dear to us to Him who had preserved us through so many and great dangers, for the sake of His Son Jesus Christ. Thus we sat for hours on this Christmas-day, but what was going on at home?