“Oh, we’ll all come and have a squint for old Timmy dog,” said Dick, getting up. “And I don’t mind telling you what we’ll see!”

“What?” said George, in surprise.

“We’ll see Timmy having a perfectly wonderful time, chasing every single rabbit on the island!” said Dick with a grin. “My word — you needn’t worry about Timmy not having his food regularly! He’ll have rabbit for breakfast, rabbit for dinner, rabbit for tea — and rain-water from his favourite pool. Not a bad life for old Timmy!”

“You know perfectly well he’ll do nothing of the sort,” said George. “He’ll keep close to Father and not think of rabbits once!”

“You don’t know Timmy if you think that,” said Dick dodging out of George’s way. She was turning red with exasperation. “I bet that’s why he wanted to stay. Just for the rabbits!”

George threw a book at him. It crashed to the floor. Anne giggled. “Oh stop it, you two. We’ll never get out. Come on Ju — we won’t wait for the squabblers!”

Chapter Thirteen

Afternoon with martin

By the time they reached the coastguard’s cottage the sun was out. It was a real April day, with sudden showers and then the sun sweeping out, smiling. Everything glittered, especially the sea. It was wet underfoot, but the children had on their rubber boots.

They looked for the coastguard. As usual he was in his shed, singing and hammering.

“Good-day to you,” he said, beaming all over his red face. “I was wondering when you’d come and see me again. How do you like this railway station I’m making?”

“It’s better than any I’ve ever seen in the shops,” said Anne in great admiration. The coastguard certainly had made it well, down to the smallest detail.

He nodded his head towards some small wooden figures of porters and guards and passengers. “Those are waiting to be painted,” he said. “That boy Martin said he’d come in and do them for me — very handy with his paints he is, a proper artist — but he’s had an accident.”

“Has he? What happened?” said Julian.

“I don’t quite know. He was half-carried home this morning by his father,” said the coastguard. “Must have slipped and fallen somewhere. I went out to ask, but Mr Curton was in a hurry to get the boy on a couch. Why don’t you go in and ask after him? He’s a queer sort of boy — but he’s not a bad boy.”

“Yes, we will go and ask,” said Julian. “I say, coastguard — would you mind if we looked through your telescope again?”

“Now you go and look at all you want to!” said the old fellow. “I tell you, you won’t wear it out by looking! I saw the signal from your father’s tower last night, Miss George — just happened to be looking that way. He went on flashing for a long time, didn’t he?”