“Not nearly as much as I like the original,” answered the artist gravely. The darkness hid Harry’s blushes. Then:
“Please be very careful of my island,” she called.
“I will,” was the answer. “Until to-morrow!”
“Until to-morrow!” they replied. And—
“Until to-morrow!” echoed Dick as he stepped ashore and headed toward the camp.
Mr. Cole pulled his tender over the stern and then paused at the studio door. From across the darkness in one direction came the faint sound of voices and the sibilant swish of the paddles. From down the beach came the sound of a merry whistle. The artist smiled.
“‘Until to-morrow,’” he murmured. “It’s a good world where we can say that!”
He closed the door behind him, and, as he did so, a great golden moon pushed its rim up over the edge of the eastern hills and threw a mantle of radiant light over Harry’s Island.
THE END