“I should like to speak to you—­er—­about your brother, Miss Brown,” he began, “if you can spare me the time, of course.  I trust I do not er—­intrude or presume.  He is a charming little man but—­er—­I fear—­not veracious.  May I accompany you a little on your way?  I am—­er—­much attracted to your—­er—­family.  I—­er—­should like to know you all better.  I am—­er—­deeply attached to your—­er—­little brother, but grieved to find that he does not—­er—­adhere to the truth in his statements.  I—­er——­”

Miss Brown’s blue eyes were dancing with merriment.

“Oh, don’t you worry about William,” she said.  “He’s awful.  It’s much best just to leave him alone.  Isn’t the sea gorgeous to-day?”

They walked along the sands.

Meanwhile William had invited his small defender into his hut.

“You can look round,” he said graciously.  “You’ve seen my skin what I—­he—­killed, haven’t you?  This is my gun.  You put a cork in there and it comes out hard when you shoot it.  It would kill anyone,” impressively, “if you did it near enough to them and at the right place.  An’ I’ve got a dormouse, an’ a punchball, an’ a box of things, an’ a football, but they wouldn’t let me bring them,” bitterly.

“It’s a lovely skin,” said the little girl.  “What’s your name?”

“William.  What’s yours?”

“Peggy.”

“Well, let’s be on a desert island, shall we?  An’ nothin’ to eat nor anything, shall we?  Come on.”

She nodded eagerly.

“How lovely!”

They wandered out on to the promenade, and among a large crowd of passers-by bemoaned the lonely emptiness of the island and scanned the horizon for a sail.  In the far distance on the cliffs could be seen the figures of Mr. Percival Jones and William’s sister, walking slowly away from the town.

At last they turned towards the hut.

“We must find somethin’ to eat,” said William firmly.  “We can’t let ourselves starve to death.”

“Shrimps?” suggested Peggy cheerfully.

“We haven’t got nets,” said William.  “We couldn’t save them from the wreck.”

“Periwinkles?”

“There aren’t any on this island.  I know!  Seaweed!  An’ we’ll cook it.”

“Oh, how lovely!”

He gathered up a handful of seaweed and they entered the hut, leaving a white handkerchief tied on to the door to attract the attention of any passing ship.  The hut was provided with a gas ring and William, disregarding his family’s express injunction, lit this and put on a saucepan filled with water and seaweed.

“We’ll pretend it’s a wood fire,” he said.  “We couldn’t make a real wood fire out on the prom.  They’d stop us.  So we’ll pretend this is.  An’ we’ll pretend we saved a saucepan from the wreck.”

After a few minutes he took off the pan and drew out a long green strand.

“You eat it first,” he said politely.