“But, mademoiselle,” he persisted, “if it should become serious!”

“Oh, it won’t,” she said lightly.  “I shall be all right.  Nothing ever happens to me.”

“Nothing?” he questioned, with an answering smile.

She was hobbling over the stones with his assistance.  “Nothing interesting, I assure you,” she said.

“Except when mademoiselle goes to the cavern of the fairies to look for the magic knight?” he suggested.

She threw him a merry glance.  “To be sure!  I will come and see you again some day when the tide is low.  Is there a dragon in the cave?”

“He is there only when the tide is high, mademoiselle, a beast enormous with eyes of fire.”

“And a princess?” asked the English girl, keenly interested.

“No, there is no princess.”

“Only you and the dragon?”

“Generally only me, mademoiselle.”

“Whatever do you do there?” she asked curiously.

His smile was bafflingly direct.  “Me?  I make magic, mademoiselle.”

“What sort of magic?”

“What sort?  That is a difficult question.”

“May I come and see it?” asked Chris eagerly, scenting a mystery.

He hesitated.

“I’ll come all by myself,” she assured him.

“Mais la gouvernante—­”

“As if I should bring her!  No, no!  I’ll come alone—­with Cinders.”

“Mais, mademoiselle—­”

“If you say that again I shall be cross,” announced Chris.

“But—­pardon me, mademoiselle—­the governess, might she not object?”

“Absurd!” said Chris.  “I am not a French girl, and I won’t behave like one.”

He laughed at that, plainly because he could not help it.  “Mademoiselle pleases herself!” he observed.

“Of course I do,” returned Chris vigorously.  “I always have.  I may come then?”

“But certainly.”

“When?”

“When you will, mademoiselle.”

Chris considered.  They had reached the firm sand, and she stood still.  “I can’t come to-morrow because of my foot, and the day after the tide will be too late.  I shall have to wait nearly a fortnight.  How dull!”

“In a fortnight, then!” said the Frenchman.

“In a fortnight, preux chevalier!” Her eyes laughed up at him.  “But I dare say we shall meet before then.  I hope we shall.”

“I hope it also, mademoiselle.”  He bowed courteously.

She held out her hand.  “I shall come on the tenth of the month—­it’s my birthday.  I’ll bring some cakes, and we’ll have a party, and invite the dragon.”  Her eyes danced.  “We will have some fun, shall we?”

“I think that we shall not want the dragon,” he smiled back.

“No?  Perhaps not.  Well, I’ll bring Cinders instead.”

“Ah, the good Cinders!  He is different.”

“And we will go exploring,” she said eagerly.  “I shan’t be a bit afraid of anything with you there.  The tenth, then!  Don’t forget!  Good-bye, and thank you ever so much!  You won’t fail me, will you?”