“But the whole of Willow House is growing!” cried Peggy. “Every branch has put out leaves - and look at these twigs shooting up from the roof! It’s a house that’s alive!”
She was right. Every willow stick they had used to build their house had shot out buds and leaves and twigs - and the house was, as Peggy said, quite alive. Inside the house long twigs hung down like green curtains.
“Dear little Willow House,” said Peggy softly. “What fun we had here! And how we loved making it - weaving the willow twigs in and out to make the walls - and you made the door, Jack. And do you remember how we stuffed up the cracks with heather and bracken?”
The others remembered quite well. They told Paul all about it and he at once wanted to stop and build another house.
“No, we don’t need one,” said Jack. “We can sleep out-of-doors now - and if rain comes we’ll just sleep in the cave.”
Paul ran in and out of Willow House. He thought it was the nicest place in the world. “I wish I had a house of my own like this,” he said. “Mike, Jack, will you come back to my country with me and teach me how to build a willow house?”
The boys laughed. “Come along and see if we can find some ripe raspberries,” said Mike. “You’ll like those, Paul.”
They all went to the part of the island where the raspberries grew. There were still plenty on the canes, though they were getting over now.
Peggy and Nora had brought baskets. Soon they had the baskets half-full, and their mouths were stained with pink. As many went into their mouths as into the baskets!
“It’s one o’clock.” said Mike, looking at his watch. “Good gracious! How the morning has gone!”