"Our late residence, I suspect," returned Mr. Black. "It's a good thing we moved out when we did—I guess I'd better rescue that tablecloth."
By this time the waves were running high and dashing savagely against the bank. Usually the hurrying clouds obscured the moon; but, whenever it gleamed forth for a moment, it showed a foaming, furious sea—their calm, beautiful, softly tinted lake was gone.
"I'm glad," shuddered Bettie, "that I'm not out there in a boat."
"I hope," said Jean, "that nobody is. A little boat would be smashed to bits."
"Wouldn't it be dreadful," suggested Henrietta, "if a ship were wrecked right down there on the beach? Anyway, I guess we'd find it pretty exciting."
"Or the ship would," offered Marjory.
"Let's hope hard," said Bettie, "that all the ships and sailors are in snug, safe harbors—When I go to bed to-night I'm going to make a little prayer about it."
But, in spite of Bettie's little prayer, if, indeed, she remembered to make it, there were several ships abroad that night; and a passenger on one of the smallest and least significant was probably, at that very moment, sailing into this story; but many other things happened before he was unceremoniously tumbled into the tale; and you must have them in their turn.
All night long the heavy surf pounded and thundered on the beach. All night long the wind howled and shrieked. But the castaways, snug in their strong new tents and their warm, red blankets, slept through all the turmoil.