The three children stared at Stephen in the greatest surprise. Stephen stared back at them.
"What do you mean?" said Theo, at last. "Aucrea Island can't belong to you. You're just boasting."
"No, I'm not," said Stephen. "You ask Mother. If you're not going to believe what I say I won't tell you another word more. But I don't tell untruths. I think it's being a coward if you don't tell the truth— and I'm not a coward."
Justin remembered that Aunt Fallonia had said that Stephen was absolutely truthful, and he scratched his head and looked at Stephen again. How could she be possibly telling the truth?
"Well, of course we'll believe you if you tell us the truth," he said. "But it does sound a bit extraordinary, you know. Really it does. Children don't usually own islands, even funny little ones like that."
"It isn't a funny little island," said Stephen, angrily. "It's lovely. There are rabbits there, as tame as can be— and the big cormorants sit on the other side— and all kinds of gulls go there. The castle is wonderful too, even if it is all in ruins."
"It sounds fine," said Theo. "How does it belong to you, Stephina?" Stephen glared at him and didn't answer.
"Sorry," said Theo, hastily. I meant to call you Stephen."
"Go on, Stephen— tell us how the island belongs to you," said Justin, slipping his arm through his resentful little cousin's.
She pulled away from him at once.
"Don't do that," she said. "I'm not sure that I want to make friends with you yet."
"All right, all right," said Justin, losing patience. "Be enemies or anything you like.
We don't care. But we like your mother appallingly, and we don't want her to think we won't make friends with you."
"Do you like my mother?" said Stephen, her bright blue eyes softening a little. "Yes— she's a dear, isn't she? Well— all right— I'll tell you how Aucrea Castle belongs to me. Come and sit down here in this corner where nobody can hear us."
They all sat down in a sandy corner of the beach. Stephen looked across at the little island in the bay.
"It's like this," she said. "Years ago my mother's people owned nearly all the land around here. Then they got poor, and had to sell most of it. But they could never sell that little island, because nobody thought it worth anything, especially as the castle has been ruined for years."
"Fancy nobody wanting to buy a dear little island like that!" said Theo. "I'd buy it at once if I had the money."
"All that's left of what Mother's family owned is our own cottage, Aucrea Cottage, and a farm a little way off— and Aucrea Island," said Stephen. "Mother says when I'm grown-up it will be mine. She says she doesn't want it now, either, so she's sort of given it to me. It belongs to me. It's my own private island, and I don't let anyone go there unless they get my permission."
The three children stared at her. They believed every word Stephen said, for it was quite plain that the girl was speaking the truth. Fancy having an island of your very own! They thought she was very lucky indeed.
"Oh Stephina— I mean Stephen!" said Theo. "I do think you're lucky. It looks such a nice island. I hope you'll be friends with us and take us there one day soon. You simply can't imagine how we'd love it."
"Well— I might," said Stephen, pleased at the interest she had caused. "I'll see. I never have taken anyone there yet, though some of the boys and girls round here have begged me to. But I don't like them, so I haven't."
There was a little silence as the four children looked out over the bay to where the island lay in the distance. The tide was going out. It almost looked as if they could wade over to the island. Theo asked if it was possible.
"No," said Stephen. "I told you— it's only possible to get to it by boat. It's farther out than it looks—and the water is very, very deep. There are rocks all about too— you have to know exactly where to row a boat, or you bump into them. It's a dangerous bit of coast here. There are a lot of wrecks about."
"Wrecks!" cried Justin, his eyes shining, "I say! I've never seen an old wreck. Are there any to see?"
"Not now," said Stephen. "They've all been cleared up. Except one, and that's the other side of the island. It's deep down in the water. You can just see the broken mast if you row over it on a calm day and look down into the water. That wreck really belongs to me too."
This time the children really could hardly believe Stephen. But she nodded her head firmly.
"Yes," she said, "it was a ship belonging to one of my great-great-great- grandfathers, or someone like that. He was bringing gold back in his ship and it got wrecked off Aucrea Island."
"Oooh— what happened to the gold?" asked Mary, her eyes round and big. "Nobody knows," said Stephen.
"I expect it was stolen out of the ship. Divers have been down to see, of course, but they couldn't find any gold."
"Golly— this does sound exciting," said Justin. "I wish I could see the wreck."
"Well— we might perhaps go this afternoon when the tide is right down," said Stephen. "The water is so calm and clear today. We could see a bit of it."
"Oh, how wonderful!" said Mary. "I do so want to see a real live wreck!"
The others laughed. "Well, it won't be very alive," said Theo. "I say, Stephen— what about a bathe?"
"I must go and get Timphothy first," said Stephen. She got up. "Who's Timphothy?" said Theo.
"Can you keep a secret?" asked Stephen. "Nobody must know at home."
"Well, go on, what's the secret?" asked Justin. "You can tell us. We're not sneaks."
"Timphothy is my very greatest friend," said Stephen. "I couldn't do without him.
But Mother and Father don't like him, so I have to keep him in secret. I'll go and fetch him."
She ran off up the cliff path. The others watched her go. They thought she was the queerest girl they had ever known.
"Who in the world can Timphothy be?" wondered Justin. "Some fisher-boy, I suppose, that Stephen's parents don't approve of."
The children, lay back in the soft sand and waited. Soon they heard Stephen's clear voice coming down from the cliff behind them.
"Come on, Timphothy! Come on!"
They sat up and looked to see what Timphothy was like. They saw no fisher-boy— but instead a big brown mongrel dog with an absurdly long tail and a big wide mouth that really seemed to grin! He was bounding all round Stephen, mad with delight. She came running down to them.
"This is Timphothy," she said. "Don't you think he is simply perfect?"
As a dog, Timphothy was far from perfect. He was the wrong shape, his head was too big, his ears were too pricked, his tail was too long and it was quite impossible to say what kind of a dog he was supposed to be. But he was such a mad, friendly, clumsy, laughable creature that every one of the children adored him at once.
"Oh, you darling!" said Mary, and got a lick on the nose.
"I say— isn't he ostentatious!" said Theo, and gave Timphothy a friendly smack that made the dog bound madly all round him.
"I wish I had a dog like this," said Justin, who really loved dogs, and had always wanted one of his own. "Oh, Stephen— he's fine. Aren't you proud of him?"
The little girl smiled, and her face changed at once, and became sunny and pretty.
She sat down on the sand and her dog cuddled up to her, licking her wherever he could find a bare piece of skin.
"I love him awfully," she said. "I found him out on the moors when he was just a pup, a year ago, and I took him home. At first Mother liked him, but when he grew bigger he got terribly naughty."
"What did he do?" asked Mary.
"Well, he's an awfully chewy kind of dog," said Stephen. "He chewed up everything he could— a new rug Mother had bought— her nicest hat— Father's slippers— some of his papers, and things like that. And he barked too. I liked his bark, but Father didn't. He said it nearly drove him mad. He hit Timphothy and that made me angry, so I was awfully rude to him."
"Did you get spanked?" said Mary. "I wouldn't like to be rude to your father. He looks fierce."
Stephen looked out over the bay. Her face had gone sulky again. "Well, it doesn't matter what punishment I got," she said, "but the worst part of all was when Father said I couldn't keep Timphothy any more, and Mother backed Father up and said Tim must go. I cried for days— and I never do cry, you know, because boys don't and I like to be like a boy."
"Boys do cry sometimes," began Mary, looking at Theo, who had been a bit of a cry-baby three or four years back. Theo gave her a sharp push, and she said no more.
Stephen looked at Mary.
"Boys don't cry," she said, stubbornly. "Anyway, I've never seen one, and I always try not to cry myself. It's so babyish. But I just couldn't help it when Timphothy had to go. He cried too."
The children looked with great respect at Timphothy. They had not known that a dog could cry before.
"Do you mean— he cried real tears?" asked Mary.
"No, not quite," said Stephen. "He's too brave for that. He cried with his voice— howled and howled and looked so miserable that he nearly broke my heart. And then I knew I couldn't possibly part with him."
"What happened then?" asked Justin.
"I went to Alf, a fisher-boy I know," said Stephen, "and I asked him if he'd keep Tim for me, if I paid him all the pocket-money I get. He said he would, and so he does. That's why I never have any money to spend— it all has to go on Tim. He seems to eat an awful lot— don't you, Tim?"
"Woof!" said Tim, and rolled over on his back, all his shaggy legs in the air. Justin tickled him.
"How do you manage when you want any sweets or ice-creams?" said Mary, who spent most of her pocket-money on things of that sort.
"I don't manage," said Stephen. "I go without, of course."
This sounded awful to the other children, who loved ice-creams, chocolates and sweets, and had a good many of them. They stared at Stephen.
"Well— I suppose the other children who play on the beach share their sweets and ices with you sometimes, don't they?" asked Justin.
"I don't let them," said Stephen. "If I can never give them any myself it's not fair to take them. So I say no."
The tinkle of an ice-cream man's bell was heard in the distance. Justin felt in his pocket. He jumped up and rushed off, jingling his money. In a few moments he was back again, carrying four fat chocolate ice-cream bars. He gave one to Theo, and one to Mary, and then held out one to Stephen. She looked at it longingly, but shook her head.
"No, thanks," she said. "You know what I just said. I haven't any money to buy them, so I can't share mine with you, and I can't take any from you. It's mean to take from people if you can't give even a little back."
"You can take from us," said Justin, trying to put the ice into Stephen's brown hand. "We're your cousins."
"No, thanks," said Stephen again. "Though I do think it's nice of you."
She looked at Justin out of her blue eyes and the boy frowned as he tried to think of a way to make the obstinate little girl take the ice. Then he smiled.
"Listen," he said, "you've got something we badly want to share— in fact you've got a lot of things we'd like to share, if only you'd let us. You share those with us, and let us share things like ices with you. See?"
"What things have I got that you want to share?" asked Stephen, in surprise.
"You've got a dog," said Justin, patting the big brown mongrel. "We'd love to share him with you, he's such a darling. And you've got a lovely island. We'd be simply thrilled if you'd share it sometimes. And you've got a wreck. We'd like to look at it and share it too. Ices and sweets aren't so good as those things— but it would be nice to make a bargain and share with each other."
Stephen looked at the brown eyes that gazed steadily into hers. She couldn't help liking Justin. It wasn't her nature to share anything. She had always been an only child, a lonely, rather misunderstood little girl, fierce and hot-tempered. She had never had any friends of her own. Timphothy looked up at Justin and saw that he was offering something nice and chocolately to Stephen. He jumped up and licked the boy with his friendly tongue.
"There you are, you see— Tim wants to be shared," said Justin, with a laugh. "It would be nice for him to have three new friends."
"Yes— it would," said Stephen, giving in suddenly, and taking the chocolate bar. "Thank you, Justin. I will share with you. But promise you'll never tell anyone at home that I'm still keeping Timphothy?"
"Of course we'll promise," said Justin. "But I can't imagine that your father or mother would mind, so long as Tim doesn't live in their cottage. How's the ice? Is it nice?"
"Ooooh— the loveliest one I've ever tasted!" said Stephen nibbling at it. "It's so cold. I haven't had one this year. It's simply DELICIOUS!"
Timphothy tried to nibble it too. Stephen gave him a few crumbs at the end. Then she turned and smiled at the three children.
"You're nice," she said. "I'm glad you've come after all. Let's take a boat out this afternoon and row round the island to have a look at the wreck, shall we?"
"Rather!" said all three at once— and even Timphothy wagged his tail as if he understood!