mine," laughed Susie, patting the spaniel upon his silky head;
"he just ran to me for refuge."

"Evidently a most intelligent dog," observed the Prince, gravely.

"You think so?" asked Susie, her colour deepening just the faintest bit.
"Ah, here is the owner, now," she added, as a little faded old woman
came panting up.

"Oh, thank you, mademoiselle!" cried the newcomer, snatching the dog
from Susie's arms. "Thank you! He was a bad boy--he run away!" and she
held him close against her heart.

"It was nothing," protested Susie. "I am very glad I happened to be just
here. Though I don't suppose that either I or the dog was in danger of
being eaten," she added to Markeld, as the little old woman trotted
tremulously away. "Your dog doesn't look especially ferocious."

"Still, I beg a thousand pardons," repeated the Prince. "I should have
kept my eye on him. Come here, Jax," he called, "and make your apologies
to the ladies."

Jax crawled up very humbly and Susie stooped and patted his head.

"Poor Jax," she said. "It wasn't your fault, I know. I'm sure that
little spaniel insulted you!"

Jax licked her hand gratefully, and the Prince looked on with an
admiration he did not attempt to conceal.

"Would you like him?" he asked, eagerly.

Susie started up with crimsoning cheeks.

"No, thank you," she said, and taking her sister's arm, she walked on,
chin in air.

The Prince gazed after her, wide-eyed, for a moment, then turned
resolutely and continued on his way.

"Well," began Nell, at the end of a minute, "he quite took my breath
away!"

"Which he?" queried Sue.

"Both of them; but the first especially. That kick bespoke football
training."

"And he has evidently kept in condition," added Sue. "The owner of the
dog wasn't a bad-looking fellow, either--interesting, too, I haven't a
doubt, and I do like interesting people! But the nerve of him--offering
me his dog! I'm afraid we need a chaperon, after all, my dear."

"Yes," agreed Nell, "perhaps we do. But it would be an awful bother."

They walked on to the end of the beach, then mounted to the Digue and
strolled slowly back toward the hotel, enjoying the breeze, the colour,
the sunshine, the strange and varied life of the place.

Stretching along the landward side of the dyke stood a row of little
houses, green and pink and white, with tile roofs mounting steeply
upward, their red surfaces broken by innumerable dormers. These had once
been the homes