him?"

"It's all right," said Frances. "He couldn't scramble on the rocks
and it's splendid for him to sleep in this fine air. I'll leave a
note telling him where to look for us."

Edith supplied a blunt pencil and Fran wrote her message on a bit
of paper torn from the luncheon box, pinning it carefully to her
brother's coat where he could not fail to see it. Then they ran
down to the cove beyond Orgueil.

The water, far on the horizon, showed only as a gleaming line of
light, leaving bare heaps and piles of rocks, inextricably turned
on end in some prehistoric upheaval. In places the rocks were
continuous, in others separated by spaces of wet sand.

Over the rocks grew masses of vari-colored seaweed, brown, yellow,
blue-green, even pink. Footing proved both slippery and
treacherous, but offered the fascination of exploring an unknown
region. As they walked farther out, curious shell-fish were
clinging to the stone.

"These are ormers and limpets," said Edith. "I saw them the day
Nurse and I went to market. What a huge winkle!"

Fran stared at this new specimen. "Is that a winkle?" she demanded
in disgust. "I call it a plain snail. Why, all my life, I've read
about winkles and thought I'd like to eat some but I'd die before
I'd eat a snail. Oh! Oh! Oh!"