Publisher's Synopsis
A girl and a boy lay in a cubby-hole in the north side of the cliff overlooking Port Gorey, and watched the goings-on down below. The sun was tending towards Guernsey and the gulf was filled witn golden light. A small brig, unkempt and dirty, was nosing towards the rough wooden landing-stage clamped to the opposite rocks, as though doubtful of the advisability of attempting its closer acquaintance. "Mon Gyu, Bern, how I wish they were all at the bottom of the sea!" said the girl vehemently. "Whe-e-e-w!" whistled the boy, and then with a twinkle in his eye, -"Who's got a new parasol now?" "Everybody!-but it's not that. It's the bustle-and the dirt-and the noise-and oh-everything! You can't remember what it was like before these wretched mines came-no dust, no noise, no bustle, no dirty men, no silly women, no nothing as it is now. Just Sark as it used to be. And now-! Mon Gyu, yes I wish the sea would break in through their nasty tunnels and wash them all away-pumps and engines and houses-everything!"
