Nora sat crouched against the entrance of the little cave. She could hear the six hens inside, clucking softly as they scratched about. Jack knelt near her, peering through the bracken, trying to see what the boat was doing.
“Mike has rowed our own boat to where the brambles fall over the water, and has pushed it under them,” said Jack, in a low voice. “I don’t know where he is now. I can’t see him.”
“Where’s Peggy?” whispered Nora.
“Here I am,” said a low voice, and Peggy’s head popped above the bracken a little way down the hill. “I say - isn’t this horrid? I do wish those people would go away.”
The sound of voices came up the hillside from the lake below.
“Here’s a fine landing-place!” said one voice.
“They’ve found our beach,” whispered Jack.
“Pull the boat in,” said a woman’s voice. “We’ll have our supper here. It’s lovely!”
There was the sound of a boat being pulled a little way up the beach. Then the trippers got out.
“I’ll bring the gramophone,” said someone. “You bring the supper things, Eddie.”