ith Snap?'

'I don't know. Poor Snap' (stooping down to fondle him, and at the
same time to hide her face from me, for she was talking against time
to conceal her great confusion and agitation at seeing me. _That_ was
perceptible enough.)

Then she remembered she was hatless.

'Oh dear, where's my hat?' said she, looking round. I had picked up
the hat before accosting her, and it was now dangling behind me. I,
too, began talking against time, for the beating of my heart began
again at the thought of what I was going to say and do. 'Hat!' I
said; 'do _you_ wear hats, Winifred? I should as soon have thought of
hearing the Queen of the Tylwyth Teg ask for her hat as you, after
such goings-on as those I have just been witnessing. You see I have
not forgotten the Welsh you taught me.'

'Oh, but my hat--where is it?' cried she, vexed and sorely ashamed.
So different from the unblenching child who loved to stand hatless
and feel the rain-drops on her bare head!

'Well, Winifred, I've found a hat on the sand,' I said; 'here it is.'

'Thank you, sir,' said she, and stretched out her hand for it.

'No,' said I, 'I don't for one moment believe in its belonging to
you, any more than it belongs to the Queen of the "Fair People." But
if you'll let me put it on your head I'll give you the hat I've
found,' and with a rapid movement I advanced and put it on her head.
I had meant to seize that moment for saying what I had to say, but
was obliged to wait.

An expression of such genuine distress overspread her face, that I
regretted having taken the liberty with her. Her bearing altogether
was puzzling me. She seemed instinctively to feel as I felt, that
raillery was the only possible attitude to take up in a situation so
extremely romantic--a meeting on the sands at night between me and
her who was neither child nor woman--and yet she seemed distressed at
the raillery.

Embarrassment was rapidly coming between us.

There was a brief silence, during which Winifred seemed trying to
move away from me.

'Did you--did you see me from the cliffs, sir, am; come down?' said
Winifred.

'Winifred,' said I, 'the polite thing to say would be "Yes"; but you
know "Fighting Hal" never was remarkable for politeness, so I will
say frankly that did not come down from the cliff's on seeing you.
But when I did see you, I wasn't very likely to return without
speaking to you.'

'I am locked out,' said Winifred, in explanation of her moonl