be traced the
remains of a rudely-carved cross, and the inscription,--

[Illustration]

"What does it mean?" asked Belle. "Are they really letters?"

"I can't tell," replied Isobel. "It looks like some writing we can't
read. Perhaps it's Greek, or old black letter. I wonder who could have
put it here?"

"I don't know, and I'm sure I don't care," said Belle. "What does it
matter? Let us come along."

"Oh! only it's interesting. I want to tell mother about it; she's so
fond of old crosses, and she may know what it means. I can copy it on
this scrap of paper if you'll wait a minute."

Belle sat down with a martyred air. She was not in the best of tempers,
and she did not like waiting. She put the basket of blackberries by her
side, and took Micky on her knee. Then, for want of anything better to
do, she began to tease him by pulling the silky hair that grew round his
eyes.

"Don't do that, Belle," said Isobel, looking round suddenly at the sound
of Micky's protesting yelps.

"Why not?" asked Belle, somewhat sharply.

"Because you're hurting him."

"I'm not hurting him."

"Yes, you are."

"I suppose I can do as I like with him; he's my own."

"He's not yours to tease, at any rate. Belle, do stop!"

"I'll please myself; it's nobody else's affair," said Belle, giving such
a tug as she spoke to Micky's silken top-knot that he howled with
misery.

Isobel sprang up. She could not bear to see an animal suffer, and her
anger for the moment was hot.

"Let him go, Belle!" she cried, wrenching at her friend's hands. "You've
no right to treat him so. Let him go, I tell you!"

Micky seized the golden opportunity, and escaping from his mistress's
grasp, beat a hasty retreat towards the beach, yelping with terror as he
went, and upsetting the basket of blackberries in his flight.

Belle turned on Isobel in a rage.

"Look what you've done!" she exclaimed. "I wish you would mind your own
business, and leave me to manage my own dog. All the blackberries have
rolled over the cliff where we can't get them, and it's your fault. I
hope you're sorry."

Isobel stooped to rescue the empty basket, but she did not apologize.

"I think it was as much your fault as mine," she replied. "You shouldn't
have teased him. Perhaps we can pick the blackberries up again."

"No, we can't. They've fallen among the briers, and _I_ don't mean to
scratch my fingers by trying. You can stay and fish them out if you
like. I'm going home."