Augusta sat by herself in the smaller hut, doing what she could to amuse little Dick by telling him stories.

Nobody knows how hard she found it to have to invent stories when she was thus overwhelmed with misfortune; but it was the only way of keeping the poor child from crying, as the sense of cold and misery forced itself into his little heart.

So she told him about Robinson Crusoe, and then she told him that they were playing at being Robinson Crusoe, to which the child very sensibly replied that he did not at all like the game, and wanted his mamma.
And meanwhile it grew darker and colder and damper hour by hour, till at last the light went out, and left her with nothing to keep her company but the moaning wind, the falling rain, and the wild cries of the sea-birds when something disturbed them from their rest.

The child was asleep at last, wrapped up in a blanket and one of the smaller sails; and Augusta, feeling quite worn out with solitude and the pressure of heavy thoughts, began to think that the best thing she could do would be to try to follow his example, when suddenly there came a knock at the boards which served for a door to the shanty.
"Who is it ?" she cried, with a start.
"Me--Mr.Meeson," answered a voice.

"Can I come in ?" "Yes; if you like," said Augusta, sharply, though in her heart she was really glad to see him, or, rather, to hear him, for it was too dark to see anything.