'I thought Jem would have been here before now,' he said at length, as I was putting out the cups and saucers for tea.
'Oh, he'll come before we've finished tea, I think, grandfather,' I answered. 'I wonder what sort of a spade he'll have got for us.'
When tea was over, the door opened suddenly, and we looked up, expecting to see Jem enter with our purchases. But it was not Jem; it was his wife.
'Sandy,' she said, 'what time do you make it? My clock's stopped!'
'Twenty minutes past six,' said my grandfather, looking at his watch.
'Past six!' she repeated. 'Why, Jem's very late!'
'Yes,' said my grandfather; 'I'll go down to the pier, and have a look out.'
But he came back soon, saying it was impossible to see anything; the fog was so thick, he was almost afraid of walking over the pier. 'But he's bound to be in at seven, he said (for that was the hour the lighthousemen were required to be on the island again), 'so he'll soon be up now.'
The clock moved on, and still Jem Millar did not come. I saw Mrs. Millar running to her door every now and then with her baby in her arms, to look down the garden path. But no one came.
At last the clock struck seven.