The young man smiled. "Those anemones!" he said. "I was once in a similar fix for the same reason. Better remember that the only safe time to watch sea anemones is when the tide is just going out. There's a place up here where the farmer's wife is a friend of mine. I think you'd better let me take you over to Mother Trott and she'll dry you out."
"I'm not wet," said Edith. "Frances fell, that's why she's drippy."
"Oh, but Win!" Frances exclaimed. "He'll find that note saying we're on the rocks and he'll see the water and be frightened. My brother," she added to the stranger, who was looking at her inquiringly. "He's in the meadow."
The young man's clear gray eyes grew rather stern. "And what is this brother doing while his little sister gets into danger?" he asked.
"Oh, it's not his fault. He was asleep and he mustn't be frightened," Fran began. She spoke rapidly, her explanation banishing from the inquirer's face all look of disapproval.
"I'll go and tell Win," said Edith. "I'm not a bit wet. You go on to the farm, Frances. Which house is it?"
"Do you see the long low one with the vines about half a mile up the hill?" replied their rescuer. "That's it."
"If Win's still asleep, for goodness' sake don't wake him," directed Frances as Edith set off toward the castle. "Perhaps I can get dry and be there before he need know what has happened."
"Would you be willing to ride in front of me again, Miss Frances?" asked the young man, as Edith vanished around the wall. "We could reach the farm much more quickly."
Without demur, Frances consented. She felt queerly shaken and ill and to her consternation, as Saracen crossed the highroad and entered the farm lane, a sudden burst of sobs overcame her. She struggled bravely to control herself.