"Perhaps you're lost, and perhaps we won't be able to find your master, however hard we look, and then you'll stay with us; won't you, my beauty?" she was saying, when she glanced up and saw Frankie.
Instantly the dog was forgotten, and she flew towards the road, exclaiming: "Frankie! How jolly!"
Frankie laughed again his low, pleased laugh; but did not attempt to say more than, "Yes; here I am," as Winnie climbed up on the wheel of the dog-cart and pulled down his face to be kissed.
"We're having such fun!" she continued; "get down, and come up to the tower with us."
"No, I mustn't do that," replied Frankie, looking wistfully at the tower and then smiling again as his eyes fell to the dog standing by Winnie's side. "I only stopped to see what you'd think of Royal."
"You don't mean to say that this beautiful dog is yours!" exclaimed Winnie. "Oh, Frankie, you are a lucky boy!"
"Yes, it is," said Murtagh.
"Your very, very own?" inquired Winnie, doubtful whether it were possible for any child to possess such a treasure.
"No," said Frankie; "he isn't mine, he is yours."
"Wha—what do you mean?" asked Winnie, astonished, the color deepening a little in her cheeks.