It was rather difficult walking.  Her feet slipped in the sand, and after a little Sylvia decided not to follow the shore, but to climb back over the sand-hills.

A cold wind was now blowing from the water, and she was glad of the shelter of the stunted trees, and decided to rest for a little while.

“Of course I can’t be lost, because I know exactly where I am.  This is Sullivan Island, and the fort is right over there.  I mustn’t rest but a minute, for my father said we would start home early,” she thought, and again started on, going directly away from the fort, and over sand-hills and into little sloping valleys farther and farther away from familiar places.

The December day drew to a close, and dusky shadows crept over the island.  Once or twice Sylvia’s wanderings had brought her back to the shore, but not until the darkness began to gather did she really understand that she was lost, and that she was too tired to walk much longer.  She thought of the little compass on board the Butterfly, and wondered if a compass would help anyone find her way on land as well as on the sea.  At last she began to call aloud:  “Estralla!  Estralla!” feeling almost sure that, like herself, Estralla must be wandering about lost in the sand-hills.

It was nearly dark before she gave up trying to find her way to the fort, and, shivering and half afraid, crawled under the scraggly branches of some stunted trees on a sheltered slope.  “My father will come and find me, I know he will,” she said aloud, almost ready to cry.  “I’ll wait here, and keep calling ‘Estralla,’ so he will hear me.”

A few moments after Sylvia started to find Estralla Mrs. Carleton had been called to a neighbor’s house.  “Tell Sylvia I won’t be gone long,” she had said to Grace.

Grace did not mind being alone until Sylvia returned.  She helped herself to the rich creamy chocolate and the little frosted cakes, and then curled up on a broad couch near the window with a book full of wonderful pictures.  The pictures were of a tall man on horseback, and a short, fat man on a donkey.  “The Adventures of Don Quixote,” was the title of the book, and after Grace began to read she entirely forgot Sylvia, Estralla, and Mrs. Carleton.  And not until Mr. Fulton came into the room an hour later did she lift her eyes from the book.

“All ready to start!” said Mr. Fulton, “and it will be dusk before we reach home.  Where is Sylvia?”

“Oh!” exclaimed Grace, looking up in surprise.  “Hasn’t she come back with Estralla?  Mrs. Carleton has just gone to the next house.”

“Well, put on your things and run after them, that’s a good girl,” said Mr. Fulton.  “Why, here is Estralla now,” he added, as the little colored girl appeared at the door.  “Tell Miss Sylvia to come down to the landing; I’ll meet you there,” and he hurried away, thinking his little daughter was safe with Mrs. Carleton.

“Whar’ is Missy Sylvia?” asked Estralla, who had been asleep in a sunny corner of the veranda for the last hour.