Only the moonlight lying clear on the sea, only the lisp of the waves on the shore, only the whisper of wind in the trees, only—why, it can't surely be daylight already!
But it is though, and has been for hours, though Fred still sits there, his face and his arms, and his bare head exposed to the morning breeze.
"Oh, you naughty Fred!" cried Toddie, discovering her foster-brother, and pulling his hair to wake him. "Oo has never been to bed. I declare oo'll bleak my heart; and Flank and I has been all wound the beach and at the atwalium (aquarium) too. Flank's a dear, dood boy. Tome to bleakfast at once, I tell oo."
Fred looked up, smiling sleepily, then he gave himself a shake, as a dog would, jumped right through the window, and patted Toddie's head.
"I'll be back in ten minutes, Toddie, old woman," he said.
Then straight for the rocks he ran, and divesting himself of his clothes in a little recess, sprang in, had a good swim, and returned home singing, and quite as happy as the skylark that was lilting high above the woods.
Frank came out of the cottage to meet him, and the two lads shook hands heartily.
"You're none the worse for your ducking," said Fred.
"No, all the better. Ha! ha! I wonder what mother will say? But tell me, are you always so late of coming down to breakfast?"
Fred laughed.