sighed Frances. "I can't believe that at home everybody is wearing
furs and the ground is frozen. It doesn't seem possible that
Christmas is so near."

Win was lying flat on the close-cropped turf, his attitude
indicating that he contemplated a nap. After a glance at his
prostrate figure, the girls wandered to a little distance, seeking
the pinkest daisies. Presently they were surprised by the sudden
arrival of a beautiful collie, who poked a cold nose into Edith's
face.

"O-oh!" she exclaimed. "Go to Frances. She's the one who likes
dogs. I prefer nice soft little pussy-cats."

"It's the beach dog," said Frances. "Do you suppose his lady is
with him?"

Edith looked eagerly about. The elevated castle meadow commanded a
rather extended view but in no direction was any one visible.

"I don't see her anywhere. Come here, Tylo. Oh, Fran, let's read
the plate on his collar. Perhaps it will have her name."

Hot and panting from a run, Tylo willingly lay down by the girls
and made not the least objection to having his collar examined.
The unusually long plate bore considerable lettering.

"Laurel Manor, St. Brelade's," read Frances in excitement. "Here's
some French, Edith."