est of spirits. To have
quarrelled with Belle, even in a just cause, was a disaster such as she
had never contemplated, and for a moment she was half inclined to run
after her friend and seek a reconciliation at any cost. Her pride,
however, intervened; she felt that Belle had really been very rude and
unreasonable, while her treatment of Micky was quite unpardonable. She
strolled along, therefore, in the direction of the hut instead, trying
to wink the tears out of her eyes, and to make up her mind that she did
not care. All the Sea Urchins were rushing off to investigate some
mysterious black object which they could see bobbing about in the water,
and which they hoped might prove to be a porpoise. They called to her to
join them, but even the prospect of capturing a sea monster had for the
moment no charms, so she shook her head and volunteered instead to stay
in the hut and get tea ready for their return. She filled the kettle
from a little spring of fresh water, which always ran pure and clear in
a small rivulet down the side of the cliff, threw some more drift-wood
and dry sea-weed on the fire which the boys had already lighted, then
set out the tea things, and taking a piece of chalk, began to amuse
herself by drawing upon the wall of the hut the curious letters which
she had copied from the stone. She was so absorbed in her occupation
that she did not notice a tall figure, who stooped to enter the low
doorway, and paused in some astonishment at the scene before him.

"Hullo!" said a voice. "Am I addressing Miss Robinson Crusoe, or is this
the outpost of a military occupation? I see a flag flying which is
certainly not the Union Jack, and as a late colonel in his Majesty's
forces, and a Justice of the Peace, I feel bound to protect our shores
from a possible invasion."

Isobel turned round hastily. She recognized the newcomer at once as the
owner of the maidenhair fern and the beautiful grounds into which she
had so unwittingly trespassed, and noticing his gun, concluded that he
must without doubt be the Colonel Smith of whom Cecil Rokeby had spoken,
and whom she had also heard mentioned by Mrs. Jackson as a keen
sportsman and a magistrate of some consequence in the neighbourhood.

"I'm not Miss Robinson Crusoe," she replied, laughing, "and it's not a
military occupation either."

"Perhaps I am in a prehistoric dwelling, then, watching a descendant of
the ancient Britons conducting her primitive cooking operati