The morning was brighter and the sea and the sky even bluer than they had been the day before. The slope was like green velvet and the pool in the rocks as clear as green crystal. Barty splashed and clashed and swam about almost like a fish. But he could not help saying to himself, "What is it? What is it? I wonder what it is?"
When he had finished his bath and put on his clothes, he said it to the Good Wolf who was standing and looking at him as he had looked when he awoke.
"What is it? What is it?" he said. "I feel as if I were just going to remember."
The Good Wolf began to sniff the air gently.
"Is there any mignonette growing about here?" he said.
Barty gave a little sniff, too, and then a little jump. There was the scent of mignonette in the air and the last time he had smelt it had been when the Good Wolf had carried him away.
"It's my mother—my mother I was thinking of!" he cried out. "Why couldn't I remember. She'll be wondering where I am. I must go home this minute."
"There," said the Good Wolf. "All right. We will go home. The reason you could not remember was because I made you forget on purpose. If I had not done that you would have been wondering all the time whether you were not too far away and if she was looking for you, and you would not have enjoyed the Desert Island at all. I made her forget, too, so that she has not even missed you. She thinks you have only been playing in the woods a few hours. Has it been nicer than Robinson Crusoe?"
"Yes, yes!" cried Barty.
"Get on my back and shut your eyes," said the Good Wolf.