"Mother thinks her charming," replied Frances, brushing her curly hair. "Edith, do you suppose we shall ever know the truth about that story of the Italian prince?"

"It doesn't seem as though it were true," observed Edith. "Or at least, as though she cared very much if she had to break her engagement, for she is always so gay and happy."

The face that was looking just then from the mirror in Connie's room did not precisely correspond to these adjectives, but the young mistress of the Manor was the daughter of a brave soldier and the descendant of a long line of gallant gentlemen. Those slow weeks since Christmas that Constance crowded with gayety were bringing gradual healing. The heart under the fluffy frock she slipped on to-night was not so heavy as the one under the white gown worn that day when she stood by Win in the Manor library and watched the boat for St. Malo leave the harbor.

Frances and Edith were ready when she came for them, also prettily dressed in white.

"Nice little English flappers," Constance remarked approvingly.

"Why, what is the matter with Frances?"

"I don't know what a flapper is," confessed Frances, sure however, that it could be nothing very dreadful.

Constance laughed and patted the brown cheek. "Merely a jolly little English school girl with her hair down her back. Yours is tidily braided but Edith looks the typical flapper."

She took a hand of each and three abreast they went down to the hall where Colonel Lisle was standing in a soldierly att.i.tude before the fire. He greeted them with charming courtesy, offered Fran his arm and conducted her to the dining-room.

Both girls were supremely happy, Edith quietly so, Frances fairly radiating enjoyment in the stately room with its fine old portraits and windows open to admit the sweet odors of myrtle and daffodils.

"Don't think the Island winters are all as mild as this," the Colonel was saying as Yvonne removed the soup plates. "I have seen both snow and hail in Jersey and sometimes we have extremely cold weather. But you were asking, Frances, why French is the official language here. The Channel Islands came to the English crown with William the Conqueror, and have always remained one of the crown properties. So while the islanders are English they have French blood in their veins and each island has retained its peculiar historic customs, the official use of French being one. When Normandy was regained by France, the islands remained with England and though Jersey was frequently attacked and sometimes invaded by the French they never held more than a portion of it temporarily.

Indeed, so much was a Norman or French invasion feared, that the islanders inserted in the Litany an additional pet.i.tion: 'From the fury of the Normans, good Lord, deliver us!'"

"We have seen the tablet in the Royal Square, marking the spot where Major Pierson fell in the battle of Jersey," said Edith, who shared Win's liking for history.

"Ah, in 1781. That was the last French invasion. Speaking of the Royal Square," the Colonel went on, "there is a curious custom connected with the Royal Court there, that might interest you. Any person with a grievance relating to property has a right to come into a session of the court and call aloud upon Rollo the Dane.

The Cohue Royale,--the Court,--_must_ listen and _must_ heed. That is a very ancient relic of Norman rule in the Island. Oh, no, it is seldom resorted to. One does not lightly call Prince Rollo to one's aid. That is the final appeal when all other justice fails."

Yvonne, who was waiting upon the table, reappeared from a brief absence with a beaming face.

"It is Monsieur Max who arrives," she said confidentially to Constance.

"Max!" exclaimed Connie. "Why, how nice! Sha'n't he come directly, Dad? Tell him not to dress, Yvonne."

"By all means, tell him to come as he is," said the Colonel, his face lighting with pleasure at this news.

"Pardon, m'sieur," said Yvonne. "Monsieur Max already hastens to his room and says the dinner shall not delay, that he shall be fast,--ver' queeck."

"Max can be fast," said Constance smiling. "Well, we will dawdle over our fish. I never thought of his coming," she went on, watching Yvonne as she deftly laid another place beside Frances.

"This must be one of the week-ends he promised. I wonder why he didn't warn us?"

"I suppose there was no time to do so," said the Colonel. "Max knows he is welcome at any hour."

Max was "queeck." The fish was only just finished when he came quietly into the room, dressed for dinner and looking not in the least as though he had recently stepped from a steamer. Edith and Frances watched eagerly. If they were still in deep ignorance concerning Miss Connie's Italian prince, this was surely their chance to discover how matters stood between their adored little lady and Mr. Max.

Disappointment awaited them, for nothing could have been more commonplace than the greeting exchanged. Even the fancy of fourteen years could not construe Constance's "h.e.l.lo, old boy!"

and Max's nonchalantly offered hand into the slightest foundation for a romance. So far as outward appearances went Max was much more affectionate towards the Colonel, who did not disguise his marked pleasure at seeing him.

With gay words for both girls, the newcomer slid into his seat.

"I'm as hungry as a hunter, Connie," he announced. "Soup, Yvonne?

Anything and everything that's going. Oh, it was rather a rough crossing, but it merely gave me an appet.i.te. Where are the boys?

Couldn't they come to this exclusive dinner? Or am I b.u.t.ting in myself?"

"You are," replied Constance mischievously, "but for Dad's sake, we will forgive you. The boys are not here for the simple reason that they were not invited. Having fortified ourselves with strong meat, the girls and I are going to brave the Manor ghost to- night."

Darkness had fallen and with it a sense of the eerie over Fran.

She was distinctly relieved to hear Max laugh at this announcement.

"Do you really want to see the ghost?" he asked, turning to her.

"Crazy to," was Fran's prompt reply. "I wouldn't dare stay alone in that room, but with Miss Connie and Edith, I sha'n't be afraid.

Indeed, I want dreadfully to see the ghost."

"You know yourself, Max, that it doesn't materialize every time it is invoked," began Constance.

"I know it," said Max. "I only wanted to ascertain how keen the spook-hunters are. I slept in that room once for two weeks when the house was full and became much attached to his ghost-ship."

"So I told the girls," replied Constance with equal gravity.

Edith and Frances were looking at each other in puzzled bewilderment but Max suddenly changed the subject. His eye had fallen upon Grayfur, the big cat that had purred himself into the room in the shelter of Yvonne's skirts.

"h.e.l.lo, old chap!" he said, snapping his fingers. "Do you like cats, Frances?"

"No," confessed Frances. "I love dogs. Edith is the one who likes p.u.s.s.ies. She is always bringing stray kittens home."

For some reason this statement seemed to amuse Max. To the surprise of the girls, he and Constance exchanged a smile.

Ten o'clock struck before Edith and Frances found themselves, after a happy evening, again in the pretty guest-room.

"Miss Connie, I am afraid you weren't ready to come up," said thoughtful Edith. "Didn't you want to stop longer with your father and Mr. Max?"

"Max doesn't leave until Tuesday morning," Constance replied. "Dad will love to have him all to himself for a good talk and smoke, and if Max has anything especial to say to me, there will be plenty of opportunities. I'm quite glad to come up."

When she came for them, the girls were ready and the little procession started, three kimonoed figures each bearing a lighted candle along the echoing halls to the haunted room above the library. Electricity had not trailed its illuminating coils above the first floor of the house so the big apartment looked spooky and shadowy enough, the candles placed on the mantel, quite lost in immense distances. Three white cots stood side by side in its centre.

"First, we will fasten the door securely," said Constance, suiting the action to the word. "Then we will take this electric torch and look about a bit."

Careful inspection showed the room undoubtedly tenantless, the handsome old-fashioned furniture offering no hiding-place for any intruder. Like the library below, its walls were of paneled oak, with three large portraits set into the wood-work. One, a Lisle of Queen Elizabeth's time, looked down benignly, attired in doublet and ruff.

"Miss Connie, how shall we know what to look for or expect?" asked Frances when the three were settled in their beds, lights out and the room illuminated only by the moon.

"It wouldn't be wise to tell you," said Constance mysteriously.

"All I'll say is that it is nothing at all disturbing or frightful. The few people who have seen or heard anything never knew at the time that it was a ghost."

"But you will tell us in the morning?" asked Edith.

"Yes," replied their hostess. "I will tell you then, whether you see anything or not, and very likely you will not. But if you want to have the creeps and would truly enjoy them, I'll tell you something that really happened to me once in Italy."

"Oh, do, do!" begged both girls in unison. "That would be simply perfect," added Edith, sitting up in bed, her fair hair floating about her shoulders and turning her more than ever into the likeness of an angel.

"Some years ago, when I was about your age," began Constance slowly, "Dad and Mother and I were traveling in southern Italy, and Max was with us. He was with us a great deal, you know. We stopped one night at an old hotel that had once been a monastery, though it was different from the usual monasteries because it was a place where sick monks came to be cured and to rest.