Little groups of twos and threes were passing now, dragging spades and pails behind them and Nurse wished she could see Eustace and Eliza.
"Those children will be tired out," she said, when the landlady came in to lay the supper-cloth.
"They are late," she admitted, "for it is getting dusk, and you have never been so late as this with them."
"I wish I dare leave the children upstairs, and I would go and look for them."
She hoped the woman would offer to look after the baby if he should wake, but she was not disposed to make the offer.
"I expect my boy in every minute, and he knows every inch of the shore. I'll send him to find them the moment he comes in. I expect Master Eustace has fallen dead tired, and can't get along. My boy can carry him better than your girl can."
"I doubt whether Eliza could carry him many yards, for she is not at all strong."
The suggestion had relieved her a little, and a minute afterwards she saw the landlady's son come dashing in.
"We want you to go and look for that little Master Eustace and the girl, Tom," his mother said; and Nurse told what she had heard about their going to look for a cave.
"There ain't no cave on our beach," replied Tom. "There's just a hole or two in the cliff that the waves have scooped out. Which way have they gone? Down Prawn Point?"