"Well then, but some poor body's blessin' was over ye, or ye weren't here," said the first man. "It's three miles from main shore, and there's a storm comin' on."
"We called God," said Terry.
"It's good for ye that ye did," said the man. "Thank Him now that ye've got your feet on dry land again."
They had scarcely touched the shore when the storm began to whistle, and soon to roar, and big waves hurled themselves on the island. It was quite certain they could not return to Trimleston that night. One of the fishermen took them home to his own cabin, where there was a good fire of turf, and a kind woman and some little children. They got a good supper of potatoes and herrings, which, after their long fast, was found to be most delicious.
The little fisher-children came round them, smiling at them, examining them all over, touching their clothes. They had never seen anything so nice as this little lady and gentleman. There were six little fishermen and fisherwomen, all in red flannel frocks and bare feet. Nonie, the eldest, who was eight years old, could not cease admiring the strangers.
"Where were ye?" she asked suddenly, after a long, worshipful silence, with her eyes fixed now on Terry and now on Turly.
"Oh! isn't she sweet?" cried Terry. "What do you mean, Nonie?"
"Where were ye before?" stammered Nonie.
"Oh, miss," said the mother, laughing, "she wants to know where ye live, for she never seen the like o' ye before!"
"We live over on the other shore, in a big house, Nonie; and I hope you will come to see us there. I'm sure Gran'ma will want you to come."