The Disobedient Island. 237

friend of the Papa-Island, on whom she had shone
for many years.

“Go back,” she said to the naughty Island.

“Qh, no,” said he, “I am going to see the
world.”

The Moon, much grieved, hid her face in her
handkerchief And what do you think her hand-
kerchief was? A soft white cloud. Of course,
when she was crying she could not shine, and so
the small Island found himself in darkness. But
on he went, pretending that he liked it.

Suddenly—ah, it is so sad, I scarcely like to
tell you about it—he stepped into a very deep
hole, and went down, down, down out of sight,
till only the top of the beautiful tree could be seen
above the water! He called loudly, piteously to
the Moon, who was now again looking at him.
But she was powerless to help. ‘ Oh, Papa,
Papa,” he screamed, and this time the big Island,
hearing the splash and the cry, did wake up, and
finding his son gone, knew in a moment what had
happened. And over at the big house, on the
mainland, someone else must have heard the cry,