Fran finished her letter, directed and sealed the envelope, affixed a stamp, sniffing slightly at the head of King George instead of George Washington, and ran down-stairs.
"Do you know where Edith is?" she asked of Nurse.
"She is out in front, Miss Frances," replied Nurse. "Are you going for a walk?"
"Just to the beach. We'll be back for tea."
Edith stood at the gate and the two ran down to the shore. The tide, half-way out, left bare a tremendous expanse of wet sand, iridescent under the sun's rays. The water showed wonderful shades of blue, green and turquoise, and in the edge of the retreating waves walked hundreds of gulls, searching for food.
The girls started up the beach toward St. Helier's, chatting happily as they watched the water and the birds. Little sandpipers appeared and some huge gray cormorants.
Presently a handsome collie ran up to them, dropped a stone before Frances and stood looking at her, his head cocked on one side, all but speaking.
"You darling," said Frances, picking up the pebble. "Does he want to be played with? Well, he shall."
She threw the stone down the beach and the collie shot after it at full speed, his beautiful tawny coat shining in the sunlight.
"Twice before," said Edith, "when I've been on the sands, he has begged me to throw stones for him to chase. He's a thorough-bred. Such fine markings! He looks like one of the Westmoreland sheep dogs. You've heard of them, haven't you? They are so intelligent about taking care of sheep and they understand everything their masters want. We saw one once that separated and brought to his master three sheep out of a big flock and the man didn't say one word, only motioned to him. He wants you to throw it again."