"Colonel Smith said he was going to have it raised up," said Isobel; "half of it, you see, is buried in the ground. He wasn't sure whether he would leave it where it is, or take it to his house. He's so dreadfully afraid, if he lets it stay on the island, that horrid cheap trippers might come some time and carve their names on it. He says the brambles growing over it have kept it safe so far. I wish you knew him, mother, he's so kind. Belle says she doesn't like him at all, but I do."
"I think it's very good of him to let you have the run of his island; it has made a most delightful playground, and you and the Sea Urchins will have spent an ideal holiday."
"We have indeed. I'm so glad we came to Silversands. I wish we could come every year, and always have the island to play on. It would be something to look forward to through the winter."
"I'm afraid that isn't possible, dear," said Mrs. Stewart regretfully, thinking of what might have been if the hopes which prompted her visit had been fulfilled. "I doubt if we shall ever return here again. But we will have other happy times together; there are many sweet spots in the world where we shall be able to enjoy ourselves, and I have plans for the future which I will tell you about by-and-by."
"I've had quite a jolly day in spite of the rain," declared Isobel that evening, when, the deluge having ceased at last, the setting sun broke through the thick banks of clouds, and flooding the sea with a golden glory, brought out all the cooped-up visitors for an airing upon the Parade.
"I haven't!" said Belle. "It was perfectly detestable. I had absolutely nothing to do except throw balls for Micky, and even he got tired of that. Mother said we made her head ache, and she went to lie down. It's never any fun talking to Barton, she's so stupid; so I sat and watched the streaming rain through the window, and wished we'd never come to Silversands. I think a wet day in lodgings is just about the horridest thing in the world, and I simply can't imagine how you can have enjoyed it."
CHAPTER XV.
TEA WITH MR. BINKS.
"At many a statelier home we've had good cheer,
But ne'er a kinder welcome found than here."
THE tea-cosy, when finished, was a thing of beauty, and Isobel packed it up in sheets of white tissue paper with much pride and satisfaction. Both the steaming teapot on the one side and the ecclesiastical-looking "B" on the other had given her a great deal of trouble, and she was not sorry that they were completed.