The Superintendent’s face was puzzled—­the Superintendent’s eyes were vague—­as she asked a question.

“You said—­island?” she questioned.

Rose-Marie laughed with a shade of embarrassment.

“I didn’t really mean to say island,” she explained, “but—­well, you remember what Dr. Blanchard told us, once, about the little bugs that fastened together—­first one and then another until there were billions?  And how, at last, they made an island?” She paused and, at their nods of assent, went on.  “Ever since then,” she told them slowly, “I’ve thought of us, here at the Settlement House, as the first little bugs—­the ones that the others must hold to.  And I’ve felt, though many of them don’t realize it, though we hardly realize it ourselves, that we’re building an island together—­an island of faith!”

There was silence for a moment.  And then the Young Doctor spoke.  His voice was a trifle husky.

“You’ve made me more than a bit ashamed of myself, Miss Rose-Marie,” he said, “and I want to thank you for putting a real symbolism into my chance words.  After all”—­suddenly he laughed, and then—­“after all,” he said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you are right!  I had a curious experience, this afternoon, that would go to prove your theory.”

The Superintendent was leaning back, shielding her eyes from the light.  “Tell us about your experience, Billy,” she said.

The chocolate had come, and the Young Doctor took an appreciative sip before he answered.

“Just as I was going out this afternoon,” he said, at last, “I ran into a dirty little boy in the hall.  He was fondling a kitten—­that thin gray one that you brought to the Settlement House, Miss Rose-Marie.  I asked him what he was doing and he told me that he was hunting for a Scout Club that he’d heard about.  I”—­the Young Doctor chuckled—­“I engaged him in conversation.  And he told me that his ambition was to be a combination of St. George and King Arthur and all the rest of those fellows.  He said that, some day, he wanted to be a good husband and father.  When I asked him where he got his large ambitions he told me that a lady had given them to him.”

Rose-Marie was leaning forward.  “Did he tell you the lady’s name?” she breathed.

The Young Doctor shook his head.

“Not a thing did he tell me!” he said dramatically.  “The lady’s name seemed to be something in the nature of a sacred trust to him.  But his big dark eyes were full of the spirit that she’d given him.  And his funny little crooked mouth was—­” He paused, suddenly, his gaze fixed upon Rose-Marie.  “What’s the matter?” he queried.  “What’s the matter?  You look as if somebody’d just left you a million dollars!”

Rose-Marie’s face was flushed and radiant.  Her eyes were deep wells of joy.

“I have every reason in the world,” she said softly, “to be happy!” And she was too absorbed in her own thoughts to realize that a sudden cloud had crept across the brightness of the Young Doctor’s face.