“That’s its name henceforth,” replied Chub solemnly. “And we ought really to change the names of those islands there to Snip and Methuselah!”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” laughed Roy. “They’ve been called Treasure Island and Far Island for years.”
“I tell you, though,” cried Chub. “The Grapes haven’t been named. There are eight of them. We’ll name those!”
They hurried past the point to where a cluster of tiny islets, the largest scarcely bigger than a barn door, lay just off the shore. A few of them held turf and bushes, but most were just barren lumps of rock and sand.
“Now,” said Chub, “the largest we will name Snip Island, the next largest Methuselah, the next Spot, the next—”
“Lady Gray!” prompted Harry.
“Lady Gray. Then comes—are there any more cats or kittens, Harry?”
“There’s Joe,” said Harry, somewhat reproachfully.
“Oh, yes, of course. Well, that’s Joe Island over there, the three-cornered one. Now what?”
“Well, there are the black rabbits,” Harry suggested.