The moment she entered Rose Villa, Mrs. Thayne heartily agreed with Frances as to its desirability. To Estelle's amazement, she proceeded to engage all the rooms, offering to pay for the privilege of having the whole house for her family.

This was better fortune than Estelle had dreamed of and scarcely two days passed before she realized that a kindly star was favoring her. Frances and Edith became friends on the spot; Nurse, who might have proved a problem, took an instant fancy to delicate Win and started on a course of coddling that luckily amused Win quite as much as it satisfied Nurse. Blunt, downright Roger appealed especially to Estelle, who also found Mrs. Thayne charming.

"Aren't we in luck, little sister?" she confided to Edith. "Even our wildest expectations couldn't have pictured anything more pleasant than this. If they only stop the winter! But where are you going now?"

"On the sands with the others," said Edith happily. "Fran asked me. The boys have gone ahead to the end of the terrace."

Win was singing softly to himself as he stood looking down upon the sandy beach that stretched for miles towards St. Helier's at the left, and on the right, though showing more warm red granite rocks, to Noirmont Point. "Britannia needs no bulwarks, no towers along the steeps," he hummed just above his breath.

"There's a tower right in front of you," commented Roger, between the throwing of two stones.

Win cast a glance at the deserted castle of St. Aubin's, a miniature Castle Elizabeth on its isolated rock off shore, another at the martello tower on the point.

"I was talking to a man about those little towers," he remarked. "One can be rented for a pound a year, and there are thirty-two of them around the island. But they didn't amount to much when it came to actual fighting. The rocks and tides are what makes Jersey safe. That's what I meant by this place needing no bulwarks."

"One of those martello towers would make a fine wireless station," commented Roger. "Why did they build them if they aren't any use?"

"They thought they were going to be," replied Win, looking to see whether the girls were coming. "About two centuries ago there was a battle down in the Mediterranean that was decided by the possession of one of those little towers, so England built a good many. But they weren't much use after all."

"I never knew that before," said Edith, as she and Frances joined the boys.

"England wasn't the only nation that was taken in by them," Win went on. "Italy has a number on her southern coast. For a long time people supposed they were called martello towers from the man who built them, but I found in a book that the name came from a vine that grew over this one in Corsica. Before many moons pass I'm going to get into one of them. Smugglers must have used them and there may be things left behind."

Frances cast a glance at the tower in question. At first inspection it looked like a stony mushroom sprouting from the rocks. Some distance above the base opened a rough entrance and a low parapet encircled the top. To scramble over the exposed rocks to the base of this especial tower appeared a hard climb, to say nothing of the difficulties of ascending. The feat looked beyond Win's accomplishment but Frances said nothing. To argue with Win about whether he could or ought to attempt anything was never wise. Left to himself he would stop within the bounds of prudence but resented solicitude from others.

"Well, where are we going?" she asked.

"Let's take the train into St. Helier's," suggested Win. "We've scarcely seen the town."

Edith looked doubtful. "I ought to ask Sister," she said. "Star thought we were just going on the sands."

"And so we are," replied Roger. "We're taking a train that runs on the sands," he mimicked in a teasing, boyish way. "Why don't you call it a beach?"

"Because it is sands," retorted Edith with a pretty flash of spirit that Roger already delighted to arouse. "The tram-line is far beyond the shingle."

[Illustration: "FOR A LONG TIME PEOPLE SUPPOSED THEY WERE CALLED
MARTELLO TOWERS FROM THE MAN WHO BUILT THEM."]

"Shingle!" gasped Roger, staring in that direction. "I don't see any."

"The pebbles, cobbles, beyond the sands," explained Edith.

"Oh, excuse me," chuckled Roger. "I thought they were plain stones.
Didn't see anything particularly wooden about them."

Edith looked at him. A few days had made her feel very well acquainted with these friendly young people, but Roger was often surprising.

"Oh, cut it short, Roger," drawled Win. "Run back, will you, and tell
Mother that we want to go into town. She won't care and I don't believe
Miss Estelle will either, but we ought to mention it. Hustle, because I
think that train is coming."

Roger obligingly bolted back, received a nod of possible comprehension from a mother very much absorbed in an important letter, and arrived just as the others boarded the steam tram, a funny affair with a kind of balcony along one side where people who preferred the air could stay instead of going inside. Edith and Frances exchanged smiles of happiness.

"I haven't been to St. Helier's often," Edith confided. "Just to market once with Nurse, and once to choose curtains with Sister. We thought the drapers' shops quite excellent."

Fran's attention was held for an instant, but after all it seemed only reasonable that draperies should be purchased at a draper's.

"Isn't the beach lovely?" she confided. "It would be fun to walk back."

"We might," said Edith. "Would Win care if we did? Or could he do it too?"

"He couldn't walk so far," said Fran, "but he won't mind if we want to. Win is angelic about not stopping us from doing things he can't do himself."

"Has he always had to be so careful?" asked Edith. She and Frances sat at a little distance from the boys. Roger was peering around into the cab of the tiny engine; Win watched the water as it broke on the beach.

"Always," said Frances. "He was just a tiny baby when they knew something was wrong with his heart. It isn't painful and may never be any worse. Only he must take great care not to get over-tired. Ever so many doctors have seen him and they all say the same thing,—that if he is prudent and never does too much, he may outlive us all. Just now in London, he and Mother went to a specialist but all he told Win was that he must cultivate the art of being lazy. Mother says the worst was when he was too little to realize that he mustn't do things. Now, of course, he understands and takes care of himself. It's hard on Win but Mother says it's good for Roger and me. It does make Roger more thoughtful. He says anything he likes to Win and pretends to tease him, but if you notice, you'll see that he does every single thing Win wants and always looks to see if he's all right. It helps me too, for I'm ashamed to fuss over trifles when Win has so much to bear."

The little tram was traveling at a moderate pace toward town, stopping at several tiny stations where more and more people entered.

"I can't get used to hearing people talk French," said Frances. "It seems so odd when Jersey is a part of England."

"The French spoken here isn't that of Paris," remarked her brother, rising from his seat. "It's Norman French."

"I know I can't understand it easily," confessed Edith, "and Sister has always taken pains to teach me. I'm glad it isn't all my fault."

The train came to a stand on the esplanade of St. Helier's. The four stopped to look over the sea-wall, to the beach far below, across to the long stone piers forming the artificial sea basin and up to Fort Regent overhanging the town like a war-cloud.

"That fort looks stuck on the cliff like a swallow's nest," commented
Roger. "Look, there's a snow-white sea-gull!"

"There's another with a black tail," exclaimed Edith. "Oh, aren't they beautiful!"

"In the United States is a city that put up a monument to the sea-gulls," said Win. "Salt Lake City, ever so far inland. A fearful plague of grasshoppers ate everything green and turned the place into a desert. They came the second summer, but something else came too. Over the Rocky Mountains, away from the Pacific Ocean, flew a great flock of gulls and ate the grasshoppers. Their coming seemed so like a miracle that the city erected a beautiful monument to them."

"Did they ever come again?" asked Edith, greatly impressed.

"No," said Win. "Just that once."

"Without doubt it was a miracle," said Edith so reverently that the three looked at her.

Roger gave a little snort, started to say something, looked again at Edith's rapt face and changed his mind. "Boston ought to put up a monument, too," he remarked at length. "Miracles happen every summer in Boston. The city swelters with the mercury out of sight and then along steps the east wind. In ten minutes, everybody puts on coats and stops drinking ice-water. Some tidy miracle-worker, our east wind."

"Especially in winter," said Win laughing. "I'm afraid a monument to the east wind wouldn't be popular along in January. Shall we come on? Let's go up this street. I've a map, but things look rather crooked, so we'd better keep together."

The quartette started, Roger and Win leading the way. St. Helier's streets are indeed crooked, and paved with cobble stones of alarming size and sonorous qualities. Numerous men and boys tramped along in wooden sabots which made a most unearthly clatter. Even little girls wore them, though otherwise their dress was not unusual. Outside one shop hung many of the clumsy foot-gear, the price explaining their evident popularity.

Signs over shops were as often French as English and sometimes both. At one corner, the party met a man ringing a bell and uttering a proclamation in French. At the next corner he stopped to announce it in English and the interested boys found that he was advertising a public auction. No one else seemed in the least attentive to his remarks.

Fifteen minutes' loitering through narrow, ill-paved streets, crowded with hurrying people and a great number of dogs, brought the four to an open square of irregular shape with a gilded statue at one end. Its curious draperies caught Win's observant eye and he walked around it thoughtfully.

"What a very queer costume!" he remarked as he completed his circuit.
"What is it doing on a statue of an English king?"

Win spoke aloud, not noticing that the others were beyond hearing, but his inquiry was answered by a gentleman who chanced to be passing.

"It is a Roman statue," he volunteered, "rescued from a shipwreck. The thrifty Jerseymen considered it too good to be wasted, so they gilded it and placed it here in the Royal Square in honor of George the Second."

Win smiled as he turned to the speaker, a tall, thin Englishman in riding dress. His bearing suggested a military training and a second glance showed an empty coat-sleeve.

"This group of buildings may interest you," the speaker added. "They contain the Court House, Parliament rooms and a small public library."

Touching his riding-crop to his hat in response to Win's thanks, he turned into a side street where a young man mounted on a handsome horse sat holding the bridle of another. With interest Win watched them ride away. Even from a distance, something about the younger man struck a chord of recollection in Win's usually reliable memory. He was almost certain that somewhere, at some time, they had met. Yet he could not think of any American acquaintance of that age who would be at all likely to be riding about the island of Jersey, his companion not only an Englishman, but obviously an ex-army officer.

Still, the impression of familiarity was strong and Win was yet wondering about it as he slowly climbed the stairs leading to the public library.

Protesting somewhat, the others followed to look at a rather uninviting room, appealing to them far less than to Win, already on the trail for local history. The attendant proved obliging and after supplying Win with several books brought out a shabby brown volume.

"We have one of your writers on our shelves," he remarked with a smile, offering the book to Frances.

"Poems of Oliver Wendell Holmes," she read aloud. "Haven't you any other American authors?" she demanded in amazement. "And how did you know I was an American?"

The librarian shook his head. "I have often thought we should have more American books," he replied, "but they are so extremely dear as compared with those published on this side of the Atlantic that we have not afforded them. How did I know your nationality? By the way you speak."

Frances looked disgusted. She said little more, but soon persuaded the reluctant Win to postpone his investigations and come down again into the Royal Square.

"Now, Sis, what's the matter with you?" Win inquired on seeing her flushed face.

"Oh, you didn't hear that man say he knew I was an American by the way
I talked," sniffed Frances indignantly.

"Anybody would think you didn't want to be one," commented Roger bluntly.

"I wouldn't be anything else," retorted Frances, "only I don't care to have fun poked at the way I talk."

Win's glance traveled from his sister's annoyed face to Edith's, which wore a look of perplexity.

"We're polite," he remarked. "Here's Edith, who wouldn't be anything but English."

"No," said Edith gravely. "One always feels that way about one's country. But I understand what Frances means. And I see why people know you are not English. It isn't so much your pronunciation, but you put words in odd places in the sentence and some of your expressions are most unusual," she ended apologetically. "I like them. It is interesting to hear things called by new names. Just now Fran said 'poke fun' when she meant 'criticise,' and Roger says a thing is 'fine and dandy' when I should call it 'top-hole.' That is the difference, is it not?"

The others laughed and Edith's attempt to bridge a dangerous situation ended successfully. Presently their whereabouts absorbed their attention for Win had left the map behind him on the library table.

For a time they wandered at random, following one narrow street after another, seeing interesting shop windows, but presently discovered that they did not know where they were.

"The esplanade must lie at our left," said Win. "If we keep turning in that direction we shall surely strike it."

"Look at that candy," exclaimed Roger, attaching himself to a
confectioner's window. "Here's a chance to acquire some choice English.
What is black-jack, Edith? Looks like liquorice. Bismarck marble,
Gladstone rock, toffy,—what's toffy?"

"It is sweets made of treacle instead of sugar," explained Edith, turning surprised eyes upon him.

"Sweets! treacle!" exclaimed Roger after a petrified instant. "Bring me a fan! Give me air!"

"Why," said Frances, a sudden light dawning on her. "Treacle! I never knew before what Alice in Wonderland meant by her treacle well. It's molasses, Edith. There are some chocolate peppermints!"

Without stopping for further speech Frances dashed into the shop. Presently she emerged, carrying a white paper bag, or "sack" as Edith designated it, and with an odd expression of face.

"Joke?" inquired Win. "What did you ask for?" he demanded, accepting a piece of candy.

"I got what I wanted," said Fran evasively. "It's always possible to walk behind a counter and help yourself if you don't know the names of things."

Later she drew Edith aside. "What do you call these?" she asked confidentially.

"Peppermint chocolate drops," replied Edith. "What else could they be?"

Turning constantly to the left did not bring them to the sea. Instead they walked a long distance only to find themselves in a poorer part of the town, with increasing crowds of children inclined to follow. Their appearance seemed a source of interest to older people as well and presently Win was induced to inquire his way to the boulevard.

To his surprise the reply came in French, but between his own knowledge and that of Edith, they made out that they were traveling inland instead of toward the shore. This sounded impossible unless they had completely lost all sense of direction.

But a second inquiry brought the same answer, so they followed the offered advice, coming at last to the bay of St. Aubin's more than a mile below St. Helier's, fortunately near one of the tram stopping-places. Edith was good for a walk home and Roger would have gone also if challenged, but both Win and Frances were tired so Edith did not propose to return by the beach. Indeed, the tide was now so high that they would have been forced to go part of the way by the road.

"School for us to-morrow," said Frances dismally. "But I think we should plan to do something very interesting every holiday all winter."

"We will take a tea-basket and lunch out of doors," replied Edith happily. "There are beautiful spots to visit in Jersey."

Win looked up suddenly. "Fran," he asked, "did you notice those gentlemen who rode out of the square while we were looking at the statue? Had you ever seen the younger one before?"

Fran shook her head. "I noticed only the one who spoke to you," she replied. "I was looking at their horses."

"All the same," mused Win thoughtfully, "I've seen that young fellow before and it must have been in the United States, for I know I should remember encountering him over here."