I had spoken to
a stranger, and a man"--she raised her hands with a merry gesture--"she
would have a fit--several fits. I couldn't risk it. Poor mademoiselle!
She doesn't understand our English ways a bit. Why, she wouldn't even let
me paddle if she could help it. I shall have to keep very quiet about
this foot of mine, or it will be '_Jamais encore_!' and '_Encore
jamais_!' for the rest of my natural life. And, after all," pathetically,
"there can be no great harm in dipping one's feet in sea-water, can
there?"

But the Frenchman looked grave. "You will show your foot to the doctor,
will you not?" he said.

"Dear me, no!" said Chris.

"_Mais, mademoiselle_--"

She checked him with her quick, winning smile.

"Please don't talk French. I like English so much the best. Besides, it's
holiday-time."

"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 co