"Is not most of the work of the world done in corners? It is not the butterfly, but the coral insect, that lays foundations and lifts up islands out of the sea."
"You are not a coral insect any more than I am a butterfly," said
Dillwyn, laughing.
"Rather more."
"I acknowledge it, thankfully. And I am rejoiced to know from your letters that the seclusion has been without any evil consequences to yourself. It has been pleasant?"
"Royally pleasant. I have delighted in my building; even although I could not tell whether my island would not prove a dangerous one to mariners."
"I have just been having a discourse on that subject with my sister. I think one's sisters are—I beg your pardon!—the mischief. Tom's sister has done for him; and mine is very eager to take care of me."
"Did you consult her?" asked Mrs. Barclay, with surprise.
"Nothing of the kind! I merely told her I was coming up here to see you. A few questions followed, as to what you were doing here,—which I did not tell her, by the way,—and she hit the bull's eye with the instinctive accuracy of a woman; poured out upon me in consequence a lecture upon imprudence. Of course I confessed to nothing, but that mattered not. All that Tom's sister urged upon him, my good sister pressed upon me."
"So did I once, did I not?"
"You are not going to repeat it?"