Garth calmly, as he dove under the quilt and cuddled down. "We're going on a picnic today, out on Hy Brasail," he confided.
"Where's that, and what?" Joan asked.
"It's the rock beyond the Breakneck. It hasn't any name, really, but Fogger calls it Hy Brasail. He says that means 'Isle of the Blest'; it's Gaelic, or something. He just calls it that because we always have such a good time there. It's not really a rock; there's a lot of grass and queer little flowers sometimes. It takes quite a while to sail there; it's far, far away." The expansive sweep of Garth's arm suggested infinite remoteness. "We build a fire and everything," he said; "it's great fun. I do wish we could sometimes have a supper-picnic, though. But Fogger can't ever be away at light-up time."
"You and I might go some day," Joan proposed. Garth hugged her abruptly.
"You are nice," he whispered ecstatically.
There was a rap at the door, and Elspeth's voice said:
"I discover that I've lost a child somewhere. Answers to the name of Garth—sometimes. Information regarding whereabouts of same gratefully received!"
