and there may be things left behind."

Frances cast a glance at the tower in question. At first
inspection it looked like a stony mushroom sprouting from the
rocks. Some distance above the base opened a rough entrance and a
low parapet encircled the top. To scramble over the exposed rocks
to the base of this especial tower appeared a hard climb, to say
nothing of the difficulties of ascending. The feat looked beyond
Win's accomplishment but Frances said nothing. To argue with Win
about whether he could or ought to attempt anything was never
wise. Left to himself he would stop within the bounds of prudence
but resented solicitude from others.

"Well, where are we going?" she asked.

"Let's take the train into St. Helier's," suggested Win. "We've
scarcely seen the town."

Edith looked doubtful. "I ought to ask Sister," she said. "Star
thought we were just going on the sands."

"And so we are," replied Roger. "We're taking a train that runs on
the sands," he mimicked in a teasing, boyish way. "Why don't you
call it a beach?"

"Because it _is_ sands," retorted Edith with a pretty flash of
spirit that Roger already delighted to arouse. "The tram-line is
far beyond the shingle."

[Illustration: "FOR A LONG TIME PEOPLE SUPPOSED THEY WERE CALLED