Feurtados say that the other day to mamma.

Besides, it's a grown-up riddle! And besides, you gave me the answers, and didn't let me guess.”

"You think of a grown-up one then," said Lee; "then we shall be even. I don't care. Ask me why I am like a French bedstead? Beause I am a lit. And why a sheep is like a French pair of stockings? Because it's a bas. Ask me anything.” "There," complained little Bee, quite put out. "You have said the answers again. And I could have told you those two,

nicely."

"Because you've heard them before! Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Leonora, laughing so merrily that Beatrice could not help laughing with her, and all things were brought into good humour again.

Riddles were not likely to make any more bad humour either; for riddles were done with, and something else at hand to give amusement or interest instead. There were some Abyssinian bananas, of which the children had not seen many, because they were new to the island; there were some tea-shrubs and jalap-shrubs, both new also; there was the view of the sea, with Kingston, and its harbour, and quite a fleet of ships, and the Palisadoes, and Port Royal near; there were plains, and hills, and gorges, with the great river running deep down in them; there was, at last, the approach to the Cinchona Plantation, the Fonsecas' estate, itself; with the house, the High Steep, on a clearing on the mountain-side, and the little Fonsecas trotting on ponies to meet the Casserlys, and ask them how-do-you-do.

All things seemed so lovely, so delicious. Ivano and Gabriella cantered by the side of Leonora and Beatrice, full of the most welcome news. They were all to go up the plantation in the morning, on ponies, up the bridle-path; it would take them in and out the cinchona trees, and they would see the coolies stripping off the bark, which was all the trees were kept for, and all that was required. They were all to go on the river, in canoes or bungies. They were to go to the Bluff, if they had time, and were to see if they could see the White Horses from it the other side of the bay. They were to go and gather ground nuts, or pindars. They were to go to the little cays, or islands, out at sea, and look for booby-eggs and the

old man bird; and see if they couldn't fish for turtle, and black crab, and yellow-tails, and grunts. They were to hear the mocking-bird mock the rice-bunting; they were to hear the May-bird drawl out its cuck cuck cuck; and they were to hear the dear white wing dove, with its soft low coo. All the months were mixed up, indeed, in the children's hospitality; and if the Casserlys had been going to stay at the High Steep the whole year round, they could scarcely have seen all they were promised to see, and all of which it was such delight to hear.

Indoors, also, all things seemed extra lovely; all things seemed extra delicious. Leonora and Beatrice thought they had never tasted such calipash, such pip-pip, such preserved cherries and cashews. There never had been such pomegranates at Golden Edge; there never had been such grapes, and such bananas. It was beautiful to run out and pick ackees, and before eating the fruit, to admire its fine red skin. It was beautiful to see the ostrich feathers, and the ostrich eggs, and the assegais, and the cowrie-work the Fonsecas had brought from their "somewhere else;" and to hear them talk about bush-boks, and kraals, and the Kaffirs' wild yow-yow songs. It was beautiful to sit, just talking absurd nonsense, out in the verandah, with the clematis twining all over it, and the passion-flower, and the convolvulus, and the open roses with their damask streaks.

"Here's another riddle,” cried Lee; for they all seemed to have the riddle-fever, and to have it so badly they wanted a riddle doctor to cure them. "What European men are the best to tie the grapes to? The Poles !"

"Here's another," cried Ivano. "Which country ought to go to hospital? Switzerland, because it has a Berne!"

"And which country can we cook?" cried Gabriella. With all of them shouting out at the same moment she did—it was so plain-"The Turkey!" Whilst Beatrice hobbled out something about "and when we've cooked the Turkey, what other country will Cookie find in the cook-house?" to be told by all the others, when they answered "Greece," that she had not made that up, all of it, by herself out of her own head, for that they had heard it before, they were certain.

And then there came a shudder all at once, everywhere,

and a distant threatening sound. Then the sea, far away, could be seen beaten up into high and angry surf; the clouds, distant a minute ago, were rushing inland rapidly, blotting out the light, and making the air cold and dark.

The children left off their laughter, and looked at each other without a word.

"Come in, missies all! Come in, massa!" said the Fonseca ayah, hurrying to them, and hurrying them in.

The shudder came again, lasting longer, bringing with it more terrible sounds. As the children felt, as the children heard, they clung round the ayah, filled with alarm. "What is it?" Gabriella Fonseca cried. what it is!"

"Moussa! tell us

Heavy swirls of wind hurtled round for answer, bending down the tree-branches, sweeping down tangle and tangle of the beautiful creepers about the verandah, the flower-heads and leaves wounded into shreds. A pour of rain and hail came too, falling with the sharp sting of shot; the thunder roared and echoed, vivid lightning flashed; and the house-negroes ran to the shutters of every window, all round, closing them, and helping each other to shoot in the bolts, whilst the wind would let them shoot them in at all.

"We are in the dark !" was Gabriella's cry then. "Moussa, hold me tight!"

Moussa, as full of fear as Gabriella, was not appealed to for soothing and for consolation long. Mr Fonseca entered the place, from the far end, as another blast of wind boomed against the shutters as if it would burst them in, and the whole floor shook; and the children, springing to him in Moussa's place, thought there could be only safety if they could feel his arms round them, and hear his voice.

"Lights, Moussa," Mr Fonseca said at once. "Tell them to bring lights; the children shall stay here whilst they can."

"Briella, my little one," he turned then, and said caressingly to his little daughter, "and Vano, my man, and you two little visitors, I am going to ask you to try to be little heroes and heroines to-night. I cannot let you go to bed; for it may be-There! I only said it may be. Briella pluck up courage! it may be, the hurricane will get worse, and I shall

have to take you for shelter to the cellar under the kitchen huts; we will stay here whilst we can, though."

Boo-oom! went the wind. Burr-rr! Cr-r-rash!

"We hear it here," said Mr Fonseca, to try and pacify the children. "It is not so loud, perhaps, elsewhere, so do not be frightened with a little sound; and here are the lights. So get to the new books Leonora and Beatrice have brought you, and read and amuse yourselves, and show me your bravery."

"Ay, but I must go," he said, for the children, when he was putting them away from him, could not bear to be left alone, and were entreating him to stay. "The people will be wanting me. I am bound to see what is going on." Boo-oom! Burr-rr! Cr-r-rash!

It was the wind again; when the children had just tried to settle themselves at their books, and their faces were not quite so white, and some remark of Bee's had even made them smile.

Boo-oo-oom!

There it was again. This time at the moment when Moussa had brought in some fruit and sweetmeats, and had shown Leonora and Beatrice how they could try and get some sleep, both together, on a settee; at the moment when she had curled Gabriella up on one large rocking chair, and Ivano on another, and had given them all shawls or other wraps, in case they should feel cold.

Boo-oo-oom, again! with a dash against the house-walls as if wood were splitting and iron clamps were being wrested out of place. Boom!

Boo-00-00-oom! Hur-rr-rr-tle!

And that was how the strange night passed. The children would read a little, then sleep a little, then wake in their trouble and their discomfort, and shiver, and read, and sleep again. Mr Fonseca would come in now and then, telling how that last swirl had blown the roofs off a group of negro-huts; he would stay, making the children warm and happy by the mere strength of the trust they had in him; but then he would be called away by some new disaster to give some new directions, and Moussa, or whoever else came instead of her or with her, did not seem to give any real comfort at all. The storm was not here, they said (in their queer coloured-English); the storm

was over at Blue Mountain View; this was only the blow at the storm-end. Blue Mountain View would have it fiercely, would have it to the roots.

"Blue Mountain View!" cried Leonora to Beatrice, when she had heard this, and heard it again, and at last she began to understand it. "Oh, Bee! will it go up to Golden Edge? And Bee, where is mamma? Oh, mamma! mamma!"

"Oh, mamma! mamma!" echoed poor Bee, quite breaking down, and crying with all her tired little heart. “And oh, papa! papa! and Ernest, Ernest! where are you all, and when will you come to us and take us home?"

Never. In the morning when there was no longer that terrible boom, and that terrible burr and crash, and when the shutters all the way round the High Steep could be unfastened and bolted back, and there were fallen trees to be seen, and a litter of branches and house-timber and bruised fruit strewing the ground, some negroes, who were not Mr Fonseca's people, but who were the Blue Mountain View people, came at their quickest to have Mr Fonseca see them directly, and when Mr Fonseca had seen them, he looked very grave, and he had some fearful news to tell.

Oh, mamma! papa! and Ernest, you dear Ernest! when will you come to us and take us home?"

Never.

Mr Fonseca did not tell that in one plain word to little Bee when he heard her sobs. He did not tell it in one plain word to Leonora either. He only took the children close to him, one in each arm, as he sat, and then he spoke to them as kindly as a woman would have spoken, trying to make them comprehend.

"You are not going away from here for a few days," he said. "I am going to let you stop with my little boy and little girl. You will like that, you know. It is because I

They have just

have seen some of the Golden Edge people. come. They came very quickly, as quickly as they could; for they have not brought good news, and they wanted me to know it. They say that the hurricane was terrible at Blue Mountain View. They say it swept up the hill, and was more terrible still at Golden Edge. They say that every window on the storm side gave way; they say the doors gave way; they