"Do tell now. Hain't you any Ma?"
"No," said Eyebright, sadly. "Mother died last November."
"You poor little thing!" cried kind Mrs. Downs; "and hain't you got no brothers and sisters either?"
"No; not any at all."
"Why, you'll be lonesome, I'm afraid, up to the island. You never lived in such a sort of a place before, did you?"
"Oh, no; we always lived in Tunxet. But I don't believe I shall be lonesome. It looks real pretty from here. Why is it called Cosy Island, Mrs. Downs?"
"Well, I'm sure I don't know. Folks always called it that. I never thought to ask nobody. Perhaps he'll know when he comes in."
"He" was Mr. Downs; but he knew no more than his wife about the name of the island. Mr. Bright, however, was better informed. He told them that the name, in the first place, was "Causeway," from the natural path, uncovered at each low tide, which connected it with the shore, and that this had gradually been changed to "Causey," because it was easier to pronounce. Eyebright was rather disappointed at this explanation.
"I thought it was 'Cosy,'" she said, "because the island was cosey."
Mr. Downs gave a great laugh at this, but papa patted her head kindly, and said,—