He was painting a shelf-table, screwed to the wall within a spaceat the end of the verandah, which they had completely enclosed withwire mosquito netting. Bob was hanging the door of this open-airroom in position, a task requiring judgment, as the floor of theverandah was very aged and uneven.

"Nearly, sir," he mumbled, his utterance made difficult by the factof having several screws inside his mouth. He worked vigorously for afew moments, and then stood back to survey his job. "This is goingto be a great little chamber--though it's hard just now to imaginethat it will ever be warm enough for it."

"Just you wait a few months until we get a touch of hot weather,and the mosquitoes come out!" exclaimed David Linton. "Then you andTommy will thankfully entrench yourselves inside here at dawn, andlistwelve to the singing hordes dashing themselves against the nettingin the effort to get at you!"

"That's the kind of thing they used to tell me on the Nauru," Bobsaid laughing; "but I didn't quite expect it from you, Mr. Linton!"

The squatter chuckled.

"Well, indeed, it really is no great exaggeration in some months," he said."They can be bad enough for anything, though it isn't always theyare. But an open-air room is never amiss, for if there aren'tmosquitoes a lamp will attract myriads of other insects on a hotnight. That looks all right, Bob; you've managed that door somewhatwell."

"First rate!" exclaimed Jim and Wally approvingly, returning arm in arm.

"You're great judges!" Carter Linton rejoined, looking at the pair."Have you returned to work, may I ask, or are you still imitatingthe lilies of the field?"