George dried himself in the sun and put on his clothes, while Alexander rolled about in the sand and shook himself until he looked like a great mop with all its hair on end. But after a bathe there are usually biscuits, and there were certainly none here.
"I expect we shall find some," said George. "If we don't, we must go back to George's House and have dinner."
He turned to walk up the beach toward the long sand-hills which ran in a line along the shore, and there, sitting not far off him, he saw an old man. This old man had white hair, not very much of it, and a long beard which flowed down to his knees. He was holding something in his hand; George could not see what it was.
"Perhaps he's lost his way. Come on, Alexander; we'll go and ask him," said George.
He was quite a nice old man, and smiled such a kind smile when George took off his cap politely and said: "Good-morning."
"Good-morning, little George," he answered.
"I say, do you know my name?" asked George in surprise. "Oh, are you the Mr George who lives in that little house in the wood, because I slept there. This is Alexander, my dog; he was there with me. He's a very well-behaved dog unless he sees a cat or a rabbit, and then it's an awful bother to get him back. Have you got a dog? And what is that thing you have in your hand? Oh, I forgot I was never to ask more than one question at a time. I am very sorry I was rude."
The old man smiled again. "No, my name is not George. The little house belongs to—well, you will find that out by and by. I haven't a dog of my own, but I know all about dogs. This is an hour-glass. It tells the time. You see the sand trickling down from one glass into the other. When all the sand has trickled through I turn the glass over, and it begins all over again."
"Oh, I say, how jolly!" cried George. "May I look? I've seen an hour-glass in a picture-book I have at home, but this is a real one, isn't it?"