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The door opened and a voice said, “Oh, if you are eating supper, may I have some?”

It was a lovely voice, and Billy jumped to his feet. A lovely head came after the voice. Just the head, peeping around–the body was hidden by the door. On the head was a lace cap with a gold rose, and the hair under the cap was gold.

“You see, I just got up,” said the voice, “and I haven’t had any breakfast–“

Billy and I gasped. It was seven P.M., and the meal that we were serving was supper!

“Do you mind my coming out?” said the voice. “I am not exactly clothed and in my right mind, but perhaps I’ll do.”

She opened the door wider and stepped down. I saw that her slippers had gold roses and that they were pale pink like the sunset. She wore a motor coat of tan cloth which covered her up, but I had a glimpse of a pink silk negligee underneath.

She sat quite sociably on the steps with us. “I am famished,” she said. “I haven’t had a thing to eat for twenty-four hours.”

We gasped again. “How did it happen?”

“I was–shipwrecked,” she said, “in a motor-car–I am the only survivor–“

Her eyes twinkled. “I’ll tell you all about it presently.” Then she broke off and laughed.

“But first will you feed a starving castaway?”

Yet she didn’t really tell us anything. She ate and ate, and it was the prettiest thing to see her. She was dainty and young and eager like a child at a party.

“How good everything is!” she said, at last with a sigh. “I don’t think I was ever so hungry in my life.”

Billy and I didn’t eat much. You see we were too interested, and besides we had had our dinner.

As I have said, she didn’t really tell us anything. “It was an accident, and I came up here. And the old clock that you heard strike belonged to my grandfather. He was an admiral, and it was his clock. I used to listen to it as a child.”

“What happened to the rest–?” Billy asked, bluntly. He was more concerned about the automobile accident than about her ancestors.

“Oh, do you mean the others in the car?” she came reluctantly back from the admiral and his ship’s clock. “I am sure I don’t know. And I am very sure that I don’t care.”

“But were any of them killed?”

“No–they are all alive–but you see–it was a shipwreck–and I floated away–by myself–and this is my island, and you are the nice friendly savages–” she touched Billy on the arm. He drew away a bit. I knew that he was afraid she had lost her mind, but I had seen her twinkling eyes. “Oh, it’s all a joke!” I said.

She shook her head. “It isn’t exactly a joke, but it might look like that to other people.”

“Are you going to stay?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll come up in the morning for orders,” said Billy promptly. “I keep the grocery store at Jefferson Corners.”

“Oh,” she said, and seemed to hesitate; “there won’t be any orders.”

Billy stared at her. “But there isn’t any other store.”

“Robinson Crusoe didn’t have stores, did he? He found things and lived on the land. And I am Lady Crusoe.”

“Really?” I asked her.

“I’ve another name–but–if people around here question you–you won’t tell them, will you, that I am here–?”

She said it in such a pretty pleading fashion that of course we promised. It was late when we had to go. I insisted that we should leave what remained of the supper, and she seemed glad to get it. “You are nice friendly savages,” she said, with that twinkle in her eyes, “and I am very grateful. Come into the house and let me show you my clock–“

She showed us more than the clock. I hadn’t dreamed in those days when Billy and I sat alone on the steps of the treasures that were shut up behind us. The old furniture was dusty, but all the dust in the world couldn’t hide its beauty. The dining-room was hung with cobwebs, but when the candles were lighted we saw the Sheffield on the old sideboard, the Chinese porcelains, the Heppelwhite chairs, the painted sheepskin screen–