Every now and again, through the open door, Peggy cast a glance outside.  But the fog still hung thick.  Suddenly, in the midst of their meal, footsteps sounded and voices came to their ears.

“Hullo, more visitors!” exclaimed the man of the island starting to his feet, “this is a day of events with a vengeance.  Who can be coming now?”

The footsteps had drawn close now and a voice could be heard saying: 

“What a rickety, tumble-down old place.  I wonder what kind of savage lives here.”

“Fanning Harding!” gasped Peggy, as another voice struck in.  A voice she instantly knew as Regina Mortlake’s.

[Illustration:  The next minute the man of the island ushered in his two new guests.]

“Oh, what a dreadful place.  Why won’t this miserable fog lift.  I’ll be dead before we get back to the hotel.”

The man of the island had hastened hospitably out to welcome the newcomers.

Peggy, Jess and Jimsy exchanged glances.  The prospect of spending the afternoon marooned on an island with Fanning Harding and Regina Mortlake, was not alluring.  But there was no escape.  The next minute the man of the island ushered in his two new guests.

“What, you here?” said Fanning in an ungracious tone, while Regina Mortlake, more skilled at disguising her feelings, exclaimed: 

“Oh, how perfectly wonderful that we should both have landed on the same island.”

“It wasn’t from choice,” grumbled Fanning in a perfectly audible tone.

Jimsy flushed a dark, dangerous flush.

“Jess, tell me not to punch that chap,” he muttered to his sister.

“I certainly do tell you not to,” whispered Jess emphatically.

The man of the island looked on wonderingly.

“Did you come in an aeroplane, too?” he asked Fanning in the manner of a man prepared to hear any marvels.

“Yes.  We had the race won, too.  But this fog has delayed us.  What can you give us to eat.  I can pay for it,” said Fanning in a loud, rude tone.

“I don’t take pay,” said the hut-dweller in a quiet tone that ought to have caused Fanning to redden with shame, “but if you are hungry I can cook some more fish.  There are plenty of potatoes left.”

“They’ll be very nice, I’m sure,” Regina had the grace to say.  But Fanning mumbled something about “pauper’s food.”

But nevertheless he ate as heartily as Jimsy himself, when the food was put on the rough table.  It was hard work trying to be pleasant to the two young people who had so unexpectedly come into their midst, and the conversation languished and went on by fits and starts.

“Hullo, the fog’s lifting,” cried Fanning suddenly; “I’m off.  Come on Regina.”

The girl rose, and as she did so the trio from the Prescott machine noticed the island dweller’s eyes fixed on her in a curious way.

“Pardon me,” he said, “but is your name Regina?”