All trooped out of the cottage and looked at the angry current which was sweeping past both shores of the island.
'Here's a jolly go,' said Allan; 'we shan't get home to-night.'
Tricksy looked frightened and Harry amazed, but Marjorie's face cleared and she jumped up and clapped her hands with glee.
'Oh, hooray, hooray,' she said; 'just what I always wanted. We'll have to spend the night in the cottage. Oh, what fun!'
'But won't Mrs. Stewart be frightened?' suggested Gerald, the thoughtful boy.
'Not she,' said Marjorie; 'she knows that we can take care of ourselves; besides, Father and Mr. Stewart made us promise that if we were surrounded by a tide-way we were not to try to come home, however long we might have to wait. It would be quite impossible for us to row across. We must make up our minds to spend the night here.'
They remained out of doors a little longer, discussing the situation, while the red turned to grey beyond the far-off islands; then they went indoors to make preparations for the night.
Fresh peats were cast on the fire, and the stores of cut heather were brought out and laid on the floor to serve as beds. Marjorie lighted the lamp which hung from the ceiling, and its smoky glare lighted up a circle of eager, wakeful faces.
The novelty of their surroundings, together with the voice of the current, which was running deep and swift round their tiny strip of an island, took from them all disposition to sleep during the early part of the night. It was not until the lamp had burnt out, and Tricksy's head had sunk heavily against Marjorie's knee that the rushing became fainter and finally died away, and one by one the listeners dropped to sleep upon their heather couches.
It was about midnight when Marjorie awoke, aroused by a slight noise, and the flames from the peats showed her Allan staring in front of him with wakeful eyes, and listening.