“But we never heard about them before,” remonstrated little Thekla.
“Why, so you didn’t!” cried September, recollecting herself. “Well, you shall now; for that’s the very story I’m going to tell you.
“There are a good many of the Browns; and they live at a very nice place on the sea-coast, called ‘Timber Cove.’ Plenty of rocks and sand and surf there; and these jolly little Browns—prime pets of mine—are as fond of the ocean as a nest full of young sea-mews. They were always on the beach; playing plays, and ‘making-believe’ about going to sea,—especially about going to an Island, which was one of their favorite plans.
“I’ve seen Islands enough in my time, and don’t think much of them,” went on September. “But there was a book in the nursery, which the Brown children were for ever poring over, and which was all about an Island. I don’t recollect its name; in fact, I don’t know how to read myself, having always lived outdoors, and hated schools. But what little I picked up about it sounded particularly silly; and as for the Island, it was like none I ever saw or heard of. The little Browns, however, believed in it as if it had been law and gospel; and were perfectly sure if they could only just get out to a certain Island, which lay just in sight from the shore, that there they should find all the things spoken of in the book,—tigers and serpents and buffaloes, and what not!
“One afternoon they were playing in a boat, which was drawn up on the beach,—Reggy and Alice and Emmy, and Jack and Nora, and little Tom, the baby. I was busy that day. The Sea and I had engaged in a wrangle, and both our tempers were getting up. I forgot to look after my pets, and one of the watch-dogs of Ocean seized the opportunity to creep up and do them a mischief. These dogs are called ‘Tides,’ because they are generally kept tied up, out of harm’s way; but now and then the wild things break loose, and then there is a fine to-do.
“The Tide was cunning. Silently he prowled about, drawing nearer and nearer, till at last he fastened his teeth in the bow of the boat. Then he pulled and pulled,—very gently, so as not to alarm the children; and little by little dragged them away from the shore into the deeper water. Next he gave a shove, and floated them off completely. And then, beside himself with joy and frolic, he rushed for the beach; and, plunging and roaring, began to turn summersaults on the sand, delighted at his success. The little ones played on, unconscious.
“At last Emmy looked up, and gave a scream.
“‘O Reggy!’ she cried, ‘the boat is running away with us! Jump out quick, and pull it in again.’
“But Reggy poked with a stick over the side, and looked sober. The water was already over his head, and getting deeper every moment.
“Then a bright thought seized him. ‘Don’t cry, Emmy!’ he exclaimed. ‘It isn’t our fault, so nobody can scold; and now we’ll see the Island! Just think what fun! It’s the most splendiferous chance!’ And he swung his hat, and gave a great shout.