Part 10 (2/2)
”Yes, I'll do that,” answered Eunice, after considering a moment. And then they called to Cricket.
”We--won't--eat--any--luncheon--till you--get--here. Can--you--wait?”
”Have--to!” called back Cricket, cheerfully. ”Will--it--be--long?”
”Three--or--four--hours!” answered Edna. ”Keep--as--still--as--you--can, --so--the--boat--won't--sink. _Can_ she keep still?” added Edna, to Eunice.
”I think so,” answered Eunice, somewhat doubtfully, it must be confessed. Then they sat down, and, opening their luncheon, selected a small sandwich each. It really took considerable self-control not to satisfy two hearty appet.i.tes, then and there, for the luncheon looked very tempting. But Eunice resolutely put the basket away.
”What will auntie think?” asked Eunice, anxiously, glancing toward the sh.o.r.e. ”It's dinner-time, I guess.”
”There are the boys, now,” cried Edna. ”Yes, it's dinner-time, and they've come down to see where we are.” She stood up and waved her bureau cover. The boys, catching sight of the signal, waved frantically in return. Presently, all the others, grandma, auntie, old Billy, and the children, were seen to gather there. The boys ran up and down the beach, then all the figures cl.u.s.tered together, evidently holding a council of war.
”There's just nothing to be done,” sighed Edna, ”except to wait for the water.”
”Wait for the water, and we'll all take a ride,” sang Eunice. ”It's really much harder for them to be anxious about us, and about Cricket, than for us to be here. And hardest of all for Cricket. For pity's sake!
what is the child doing?”
In watching the sh.o.r.e people, they had forgotten for a moment the stranded boat and its small occupant. As they looked again, they saw she had stuck the oars in the mud, blade down, and was now evidently las.h.i.+ng them to the oar-locks. This done, she stood up and slipped off the blue flannel skirt of her little sailor suit, standing up in her short white petticoat. She hung the skirt by the hem over the oars, and immediately she had a very fair subst.i.tute for a tent, to s.h.i.+eld her from the blazing sun. Then, apparently quite contented, she sat down in the bottom of the boat, adjusting the cus.h.i.+on from the stern seat, for a back. She had her face towards the island, and, when she was comfortably settled, she waved her hand, crying out:
”Isn't--this--exciting?
I'm--playing--I'm--Marco--Bozzaris--in--his--shrouded--tent.”
After their consultation, the sh.o.r.e people had evidently decided there was nothing to be done for the s.h.i.+pwrecked mariner and her exiled companions, as presently every one went into the house.
”Think of the soup and roast beef they're devouring!” sighed Eunice, with a thrill of envy,--but she stood fast to her resolution not to eat luncheon till Cricket could have some, too.
Fortunately, there was no special danger for Cricket, unless she actually tumbled out of the boat into the deep, soft mud, which she could scarcely do, unless she deliberately jumped out, so securely was the boat held. So the time went on, and Eunice and Edna, after a while, submitted to the inevitable, and resumed work and reading, stopping now and then to look towards Cricket, and call out sympathizing messages.
”Isn't--it--nice--I'm--near--enough--to--talk--to--you?” called back this little Mark Tapley once.
”Are--you--_very_--hungry?” shouted Eunice, after a long lapse in this high-keyed conversation. But there was no answer, and, looking again, they saw that Cricket's head was down on her arm, which was stretched out over the seat.
”She's actually gone to sleep!” said Eunice, in amazement. ”Well, I never knew Cricket to go to sleep in the daytime before in her life.”
”I should think she'd do anything for variety,” returned Edna. ”If this isn't the longest day that ever was! I should think it was to-morrow morning. It's worse than that day last summer when we went blackberrying and came home at ten in the morning, thinking it was six.
Do you remember?”
”I should think I did! I never had a chance to forget it,” answered Eunice, ”between papa and Donald. I suppose it _was_ funny to them, but I never could see how the time seems so long to us.”
”Oh, look, look!” cried Edna, suddenly. ”Do you see that little ripple where the water lies in the channel? The tide is turning at last. In an hour or so, now, the water will be high enough for Cricket to get over here at least,--though we can't get home for a long time yet.”
If the time had dragged before, this last hour fairly crawled. Eagerly the girls watched the strengthening ripples and the eddying current in the channel, as the water slowly crept higher in the outer bay. Slowly the brown ooze became a smooth, even, brown paste, and then, a few minutes later, the usual transformation scene took place. The bay was so protected by the long arm of land that half surrounded it that there was not only no surf, but no large waves even. The first you knew, the deepening water hid the ugly mud-flats, which were so level that only two or three inches of water were needed to transform the bay into a thing of beauty.
”Cricket! Cricket!” shrieked both girls, in eager chorus. ”Wake--up!
wake--up! the--tide's--coming--in. _Crick_--et!”
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