“Why!” observed Dot in wonder, “isn’t this Plam Island?”
“Oh, dear! I wish you’d say Palm Island—and it’s not Palm Island,” declared Tess.
“Then what’s the use of saying it if it isn’t?” grumbled Dot, who disliked being admonished about her faults of pronunciation. “But it looks like Plam Island, so now!”
“I guess all these islands look alike,” sighed Tess, giving up her admonitory attitude for the moment. “We had better go ashore.”
“What for?”
“Well! Aren’t you hungry?” Tess demanded. “And do you want to stay on this pitched-over boat?”
“I’m hungry all right,” agreed Dot. “But nothing more can happen to the boat now, can there? It’s wrecked, and that is all there is about it. It is a good place to sleep in.”
“Are we going to sleep here again, do you suppose?” Tess cried. “Why, of course Ruthie will send the boys for us! Of course she will!”
“She hasn’t yet,” said Dot pessimistically.
“Not in the night. It’s too dark to see then.”