" suggested Graeme.

"We'll say predictions, since we're in a superstitious land,--come
true. I shouldn't be a bit surprised. Thunderstorms are not, as a
rule, deadly, and it is conceivable that they may, at times, even be
means of grace. Would you mind piling some more gorse on that fire,
Mr. Graeme? A counter-illumination is cheerful when the heavens
without are all black and blazing. What a joke it would be if we had
to stop here all night!"--she said it with intention, and Graeme
understood and blessed her.

"We'll hope it won't come to that," he said, as lightly as he could
make it. "But, if it should, we could make ourselves fairly
comfortable. Robinson Crusoes up to date!"

"No--Swiss Family Robinsons!" was Margaret's quota to the lightening
of gloom. "The way everything turned up just when that interesting
family required it struck me as marvellous even when I was a child."

"You always were of an acutely enquiring--not to say
doubting--disposition, my dear, ever since I knew you," said Miss
Penny.

"I always liked to get at the true truth of things, and humbug always
annoyed me."

"No wonder you found Mr. Pixley a trial, dear," said Miss Penny.

"You don't mean to cast stones of doubt at that shining pillar of the
law and society, Miss Penny?" said Graeme, tempted to enlarge on so
congenial a subject.

"Mr. Pixley does not appeal to me--nor I to him. I like him just as
much as he likes me. And that's just that much,"--with a snap of the
fingers.

"I'm afraid you and I are in the same boat," said Graeme enjoyably.

"I shouldn't be a bit surprised,--and for the same reason. We both
like--"

"What shall we do for provisions, Mr. Graeme, if the storm continues?"
asked Margaret, and Miss Penny smiled knowingly.

"I suggest husbanding those we have. It can't surely last long."

"Mrs. Carre was telling us the other night that once no steamer could
get to Sark from Guernsey for three weeks," chirped Miss Penny. "If a
steamer couldn't get to Sark, how should a small boat get to
Brecqhou--Q.E.D.?"

"Gracious!" cried Margaret in dismay.

"Mr. Graeme would have to catch rabbits for us--and fish. And I
believe there are potatoes growing outside there. Our clothing will be
in rags, Meg. Mr. Graeme will be a wild man of the woods, and all our
portraits will appear in the illustrated papers. The Outcasts of
Brecqhou. Marooned on an Uninhabited Island. Three Weeks Alone."

"I'm off for a look round," said