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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cricket, by Marjorie Cooke
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Cricket
+
+Author: Marjorie Cooke
+
+Illustrator: J. Scott Williams
+
+Release Date: April 16, 2008 [EBook #25081]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRICKET ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Bell, Andrew Wainwright, Joe Free and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              THE CRICKET
+
+
+
+
+                       _Books by the Same Author_
+
+
+                                 BAMBI
+
+                            CINDERELLA JANE
+
+                              "DR. DAVID"
+
+                           THE DUAL ALLIANCE
+
+                    THE GIRL WHO LIVED IN THE WOODS
+
+                             THE THRESHOLD
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: _"What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a
+ birthday party? . . . All the children in the colony are asked to come
+        and play with you, and you make a monkey of yourself"_]
+
+
+
+
+                              THE CRICKET
+
+                                   BY
+
+                         MARJORIE BENTON COOKE
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                            _ILLUSTRATED BY_
+                           _J. SCOTT WILLIAMS_
+
+                        GARDEN CITY    NEW YORK
+                       DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+                                  1919
+
+
+
+
+                         _Copyright, 1919, by_
+
+                       DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+
+                _All rights reserved, including that of
+                  translations into foreign languages,
+                      including the Scandinavian_
+
+                      _Copyright, 1918, 1919, by_
+                   THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY
+                            (Harper's Bazar)
+
+
+
+
+                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+    "What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a birthday
+    party?" (_See page 6_)                                _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                             FACING PAGE
+    She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together            162
+
+    "You've made my summer for me, little witch," Cartel said        182
+
+    "Ye're a comfortable cricket, when ye want to be. I'd like to
+    capture ye, to sing on my hearth!"                               240
+
+
+
+
+                              THE CRICKET
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER ONE
+
+
+"I won't have it! I won't have it! If they come, I'll run away and
+hide!" shouted the child, wildly.
+
+"That will be very rude. No one acts like that--no one except a
+barbarian," said Miss Wilder, calmly.
+
+"I want to be a bar----one of those things you said."
+
+"You act like one most of the time."
+
+The child brain caught at a new idea.
+
+"What _is_ that--that what you said?"
+
+"Barbarian? B-a-r-b-a-r-i-a-n," she spelled slowly. "It is a savage
+creature with no manners, no morals, no clothes even. It lives in a hut
+or a tree, and eats roots and nuts, and nearly raw meat," Miss Wilder
+remarked, none too accurately, but slowly, in order to distract
+Isabelle's attention from the late subject of unpleasantness. The little
+girl considered her words thoughtfully.
+
+"Do they have children?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Where do they live?"
+
+"Oh, strange places; Fiji Islands, for one."
+
+"Are there any near here?"
+
+"Not that I know of."
+
+"I want to go live with the bar-barbarians."
+
+Miss Wilder's stern face underwent no change. She answered seriously:
+
+"You would not like it; you would be very uncomfortable. The children
+have no pretty clothes, no nice homes with gardens to play in, no kind
+parents or patient teachers."
+
+"Do they have horses?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Do they swim?"
+
+"Probably. They have rude boats called dug-outs," continued Miss Wilder,
+glad of an absorbing subject.
+
+"Do the children go in the boats?"
+
+"No doubt."
+
+"They can't get their clothes spoiled if they don't wear any."
+
+"Obviously. Come, now, Isabelle, put on your dress like a nice girl. The
+children will be coming to the party, and you won't be dressed."
+
+"I _won't_ put on that dress, and I'm _not_ going to the party, I tell
+you; I _hate_ them."
+
+Miss Wilder tried force, but in vain. She tried strategy, with no
+results. Isabelle wriggled out of her grasp and darted out of the room.
+Miss Wilder called; no reply. She commanded; no answer. Then she closed
+her lips more firmly and betook herself to the door of Mrs. Bryce's
+room.
+
+"What is it? I told you not to bother me," an irritated voice called, at
+her knock.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bryce, but Isabelle refuses to be dressed for the
+party. She says she won't go."
+
+"Come in," called the voice.
+
+The governess opened the door and entered. It was a hot day, and Mrs.
+Bryce, in a cool négligé, lay stretched out on a _chaise longue_, with a
+pitcher of something iced beside her, a book open on her lap. She was
+the picture of luxurious comfort, except for the frown upon her pretty
+brow.
+
+"Why don't you make her behave, Miss Wilder?"
+
+"I do my best, Mrs. Bryce, but she is very difficult," the older woman
+sighed.
+
+"Of course she's difficult--she's a brat! But that is what I have you
+for, to teach her some manners, and make her act like a civilized being.
+Where is she?"
+
+"She ran away when I tried to put her dress on her."
+
+"What do you expect me to do about it?"
+
+"I thought you might order her to get dressed."
+
+"Much good it would do! I don't see why I have to be bothered with it. I
+didn't want the party; it's a perfect nuisance, cluttering up the place
+with noisy kids; but she owes it to them, and she has to have them here
+once a season."
+
+A small, determined figure appeared at the door, in a brief petticoat
+and socks.
+
+"I won't go to that party," she announced.
+
+"Come here to me this instant," exploded her mother at sight of her.
+
+The child walked slowly to her mother's side, with disconcerting
+dignity, all out of proportion to her four brief years.
+
+"What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a birthday party?
+There is everything on earth ordered to eat, and all the children in the
+colony are asked to come and play with you, and you make a monkey of
+yourself."
+
+"I won't go."
+
+"Why won't you go?"
+
+"You didn't ask Patsy."
+
+"You can't ask that common little Irishman to a _party_," objected her
+parent.
+
+"I won't go. He's my friend. I like him best, an' if he don't come, I
+won't go."
+
+"But it's _your_ party----"
+
+"I hate 'em."
+
+"You ought to whip her!" Mrs. Bryce said to the governess.
+
+A maid appeared at the door to announce the first arrivals.
+
+"Now, you see, your guests are coming, and you aren't even dressed."
+
+"I won't go," reiterated the child, sullenly.
+
+"If we ask Patsy, will you go?" asked Mrs. Bryce desperately.
+
+"No--o; yes."
+
+"Put on her clothes, Miss Wilder, and telephone the Lodge that Isabelle
+wants Patsy for her party."
+
+"But, Mrs. Bryce, do you think we ought to humour her? Will not the
+children's mothers object to Patsy?"
+
+"Well, if you want her to go to this party, you'd better make a bargain
+with her. I know her."
+
+"Come on. Hurry up, Miss Wilder; I want to go after Patsy myself,"
+cried the tyrant, racing down the hall.
+
+Miss Wilder followed, and Mrs. Bryce turned to her book, with a sense of
+irritated futility which her only child always aroused in her. But the
+party soon faded from her mind, save when shrill shouts from the lawn
+below caught her attention.
+
+Eventually Mr. Walter Bryce, familiarly known as Wally, appeared at his
+wife's door. He was an undersized, dapper little man, with almost no
+chin. His sole claim to attention lay in the millions accumulated by his
+father.
+
+"Nice row you've got on down stairs," he remarked.
+
+"Isabelle's birthday party," yawned his wife.
+
+"Looks to me like poor old Wilder's birthday party. Just as I came
+along, a line of kids was marching up to give their hostess their
+presents. Old Wilder was hanging on to Isabelle so she wouldn't bolt,
+and the little beast wouldn't take one of the packages. Said she didn't
+want their presents. The poor Wilder appealed to me, and I told Isabelle
+to act like a lady, and whadye think she said to me--right there before
+all those smart-aleck kids?--'Get out, Wally, this is my party'!"
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed.
+
+"You ought to know better than to give her a chance like that."
+
+"Look here now, Max, she's got to be attended to. She's the limit. She's
+got no more manners than an alley cat."
+
+"That's no news to me, Wally."
+
+"Why don't you do something about it?"
+
+"Do something? Don't I get her a new governess every month? Nobody can
+do anything with her."
+
+"I don't see where she gets it," said Wally.
+
+"She gets it from you, and she gets it from me. She's the worst of both
+of us personified."
+
+"Poor kid, that's tough luck for her"--seriously.
+
+"A little late for vain regrets"--sarcastically.
+
+He went over to the window and looked down at the party scattered about
+below.
+
+"Why wouldn't it be a good idea to keep her with you awhile every day,
+Max?"
+
+"Not much! I come down here to rest, not to play nursemaid. You might
+take her round with you, if you feel that she needs uplifting."
+
+"She's beyond me. I don't understand her; and, on the whole, I don't
+like her."
+
+"Nobody likes her; she's _queer_. And plain; my word, why do you suppose
+I had to have a child that looks like that? She hasn't one good point."
+
+"Um--she's got eyes."
+
+"Great big goopy eyes too big for her head! This parent business is
+too much of a gamble. If you could go pick out a nice blue-eyed,
+pink-and-white, ready-made infant----"
+
+"I suppose you should have picked out a pink-and-white ready-made
+husband, if you wanted that kind," Wally interposed.
+
+"Well, I never would have picked out Isabelle."
+
+"After all, you're her mother, Max," he began.
+
+"Look here, Wally, don't begin on that mother stuff. I didn't want her
+any more than you did, and we were fools to have her. That may be
+abnormal, unnatural, and all the rest of it, but it's the truth, and
+there are lots of other women just like me. You can't lump us, any more
+than you can lump men. We don't all of us have the maternal instinct,
+not by a long shot."
+
+"Don't talk like that, Max; it's not nice."
+
+"There you go. It's all right for you not to want a child, but it's
+indecent in me. That's a man-made idea, and it won't work any more. Lots
+of us don't find motherhood either satisfying or interesting, and we're
+getting courage enough to say so."
+
+"The less you say about it, the better," counselled Wally.
+
+"To get back to Isabelle, she's here, and she's just as much your
+responsibility as she is mine."
+
+"Being here isn't her fault, poor kid. Seems as if somebody ought
+to--well--love her," he finished in embarrassment.
+
+"Go ahead. I've no objection."
+
+Mrs. Bryce returned to her book.
+
+"By Jove, Max, you're hard as rocks."
+
+"Oh, get out, Wally. I'm not interested in your conversation. Go liven
+up the party."
+
+"Why don't you try a younger governess, for a change?" he went on,
+undeterred. "Wilder is so old and sort of set."
+
+Mrs. Bryce closed her book with irritated finality.
+
+"Wally, I will give you a chance at running our darling child for the
+rest of this summer. I declare a strike! You get her governesses, you
+donate your society to her. You've got nothing to do. She may keep you
+out of mischief."
+
+"Oh, I say, I don't want to butt in, I only thought----"
+
+"She's yours. I'm through until September first."
+
+There was an uproar from below, louder than before. Wally looked out.
+
+"I wonder what they're up to," he said.
+
+A maid, red and flustered, appeared at the door.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, please come down to the party. Isabelle ran away with
+Patsy and we've just found her."
+
+Mrs. Bryce, oblivious of her costume, followed Mr. Bryce and the maid
+down the stairs, as fast as possible. Evidently a crisis had occurred
+below. All the girls in their white dresses and pink or blue sashes, all
+the boys in their white collars of ceremony, were grouped about on the
+lawn, around the base of a big shade tree. Pink hair bows were a-flutter
+with excitement. The patent leather pumps of the boys trod upon the
+white slippers of the little girls in their efforts to see what was
+happening.
+
+At the foot of the tree stood Miss Wilder red and tired, speaking
+sternly to some one overhead. Mr. and Mrs. Bryce rushed to join her,
+brushing children aside.
+
+"What is the matter, Miss Wilder?" demanded Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, she's--she's----"
+
+"Isabelle Bryce, come down here this moment," commanded her mother,
+loudly.
+
+There was a whispered colloquy overhead, among the branches.
+
+"That wretched Patsy is with her," wailed Miss Wilder. "They ran away,
+and hid for hours, and then we found them up here."
+
+"Isabelle!" shouted her father.
+
+"All right. We're going to drop," said a voice from above.
+
+Suddenly two white and shining little bodies hung side by side from a
+limb, then two naked youngsters dropped into the midst of the astounded
+party.
+
+"Isabelle Bryce!" gasped her mother.
+
+"We're playing barbarian," said Isabelle, coolly; "Miss Wilder told me
+about them."
+
+"Miss Wilder!" protested Wally.
+
+"But I didn't--I mean--I----"
+
+"You said they lived in trees and never wore clothes."
+
+The children began to titter.
+
+"This is your affair, I believe, Wally," remarked Mrs. Bryce, and she
+walked in a leisurely way into the house.
+
+"Oh, I say," he called after her; then: "Get her indoors, will you?
+Who's the boy?"
+
+"The gardener's child, Patsy."
+
+"Where are your clothes?" he demanded.
+
+"Up in the tree, sorr," said the boy.
+
+"Get them, and cut home," said Wally, severely.
+
+Patsy obeyed, but Isabelle resisted force. "I won't hurry and I won't be
+carried, I'll walk," said she, and--properly clad in her "birthday
+clothes"--Isabelle Bryce disposed of her first party!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TWO
+
+
+Following upon the exit of his daughter came the realization to Wally
+that something must be done about the "party." He turned to the group of
+children, huddled together in horror, like butterflies in a rain storm.
+Serious and large-eyed, they focussed their attention upon him, in the
+apparent belief that, being a parent, he would be able to handle this
+unprecedented situation. They ranged in age from three to six; they were
+the children of his neighbours and life-long associates; and yet Wally
+had the feeling that he was hemmed in by a pack of alert, curious little
+animals.
+
+"Well, children," he managed to say, "I'm sorry that Isabelle was such a
+naughty girl at her own party, but she is only four years old, we must
+remember, and I suppose she did not know any better."
+
+"I'm free an' a half, an' I don't take off my cloves at a party,"
+bragged one of the female infants.
+
+"No, I'm sure you don't. It isn't done," said Wally, helplessly.
+
+"She always spoils parties. I wanted not to have her at mine, but mother
+made me," remarked Tommy Page.
+
+"Hard luck, old man," said Wally.
+
+"She always wants to boss everything," Margie Hunter complained.
+
+"Are you going to whip her?" demanded another child.
+
+"She will be punished, believe me," replied Wally, firmly. "But I think
+we'd better call the party over."
+
+"We can't go yet, the nurses and chauffeurs haven't come," Tommy
+protested. "I'd like to hear her yell when she's licked."
+
+"Our man will take you all home in the big station wagon, so get on your
+hats," Wally ordered.
+
+Fifteen minutes later the smallest child was packed in, with one of the
+maids in command, and the motor slid off down the drive, leaving Wally
+on the door step.
+
+"Little beasts!" he remarked, feelingly.
+
+In the hall he met Miss Wilder, still bearing marks of the late
+excitement.
+
+"I have put Isabelle to bed, Mr. Bryce. Mrs. Bryce says that you are to
+prescribe her punishment."
+
+Wally looked his misery.
+
+"I don't want to punish her. Can't you manage it alone?" he said.
+
+"No, I cannot. Isabelle needs the authority of her parents now and then
+to back me up," said Miss Wilder, severely.
+
+"Well, I'll have a talk with her."
+
+"I think a severe spanking is what she needs."
+
+"What do ye suppose ever put such an idea in her head?"
+
+"You never know what she is going to do. She asked me about barbarians
+when I was trying to induce her to get dressed for the party. I told her
+some facts, just to occupy her mind."
+
+"It occupied her mind all right," laughed Wally, who left Miss Wilder
+with the idea that he thought the joke was at her expense. She
+determined to give notice at once, and leave at the end of her month.
+
+Wally went upstairs and turned his unaccustomed feet into the nursery.
+He hesitated before he opened the door, but no sounds of repentant sobs
+met his ear, so he went in. Isabelle, the picture of alert interest, sat
+up in bed and eyed him.
+
+"Have you come to punish me?" she asked.
+
+"Something like that."
+
+"Go ahead," said she.
+
+He sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at her. Max was right;
+she was no prize beauty, with her baby face like an old woman's, with
+her nondescript features, her short brown hair. But her eyes were
+disturbing--big dusky, wise eyes, with no effect of childishness.
+
+"Look here, Isabelle, why do you act like this?" That was regular
+parent-talk, so she made no answer.
+
+"Here you are, four years old, and you can't behave at your own party,"
+he continued.
+
+"I hate parties."
+
+"Well, but you have to have parties."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, all children do."
+
+"Nasty things! I hate 'em all, except Patsy."
+
+"Hate those nice little girls?"
+
+"Yes!"--hotly.
+
+"And those handsome boys?"
+
+"Yes. They're ugly. Patsy is handsome."
+
+"Why are you so crazy about this Patsy?"
+
+"Because he always does what I say." Wally stifled a smile.
+
+"But don't you know you mustn't take off your clothes before mixed
+company?"
+
+"But we were playing barbarian."
+
+"Well, you shouldn't play that kind of game."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because----" He floundered. "Now, look here, you must never take off
+your clothes again."
+
+"Not when I go to bed?"--with interest.
+
+"I mean before people."
+
+"Not before Miss Wilder, or Mary?"
+
+"Don't be stupid," he exploded. "You know what I mean--before boys and
+girls."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because it isn't nice. Don't you know what modesty is?"
+
+"No; what is it?"
+
+"It's--it's--well, it's just that you mustn't show your body to people."
+
+"Isn't my face my body?"
+
+"That's different. Everybody shows his face." She considered that.
+
+"If everybody showed their bodies it would be nice, wouldn't it?"
+
+"No," Wally said, harshly, because he felt she was making a fool of him.
+
+"But the barbarians never wore any clothes, and they were nice."
+
+"That's different. They didn't know any better."
+
+"Didn't they? Why didn't God tell them any better?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Did Jesus wear clothes?" she inquired.
+
+"Who?" he demanded, caught unawares.
+
+"Jesus. You know, God's boy," she replied, earnestly.
+
+"Of course he wore clothes," Wally protested.
+
+"Why didn't he tell the barbarians?"
+
+"O Lord, I don't know. This has got nothing to do with your performance
+this afternoon," Wally urged, trying to get back to the subject and on
+to solid ground.
+
+"What kind of punishing are you going to do?" she inquired.
+
+"I don't know," he admitted. "What do you think I ought to do?"
+
+She thought about that with awakened interest.
+
+"There's whipping, but I don't mind that."
+
+"You don't?"
+
+"No. There's shutting up, but that's fun. I play I'm a prisoner then."
+
+"Are there any punishments you don't like?"
+
+"Yes. Parties are punishment, and kindiegarden in winter is punishment."
+
+"You think the party this afternoon was punishment, do you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who punished you?"
+
+"Max."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't call your mother 'Max.'"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why do you call her that?"
+
+"Because you do."
+
+"I don't have to be respectful to her--I mean----"
+
+"If you call her that, I'm going to," she said, dismissing that subject.
+
+"You're being punished now, you know, being sent off to bed in broad
+daylight."
+
+"But I like it, when you talk to me."
+
+He rose promptly.
+
+"I'm not going to talk to you. Your punishment is that nobody will talk
+to you for the rest of the day."
+
+"All right"--cheerfully.
+
+"You'll just lie here, all alone."
+
+"Oh, no," she corrected him, "my playmates will be here, and God's
+always around."
+
+"No playmates shall come in here," he reiterated.
+
+"But you can't keep Dorothy and Reginald out, because they're just
+pretend," she defied him.
+
+Wally knew he was beaten. He had never felt so futile in his life. She
+sat there with her straight little back, her wise eyes fixed on him, and
+he wished he were well out of the room.
+
+"I hope you will lie here and think of what I have said to you," he
+remarked sonorously. "I'm surprised at you, Isabelle," he added sternly.
+
+He rose and hurried toward the door.
+
+"Good night, Wally," she said pleasantly, and smiled at him.
+
+It is not too much to say that Wally fled. He sought out his wife, who
+was dressing for dinner.
+
+"Well, did you whip her?" she inquired.
+
+He evaded that.
+
+"I've had a good talk with her"--firmly.
+
+She turned her face over her shoulder at him, and laughed.
+
+"Terrified her, no doubt."
+
+"Where on earth does she get her ideas?"
+
+"Not from me,--" indifferently.
+
+"She's--she's uncanny, that kid."
+
+"Hurry and dress, we're dining at the club. I wish you the joy of your
+job," she added, as he left her.
+
+A day or two later, when Wally came out of the bath house on the way to
+swim, he encountered his daughter on the beach.
+
+"I'll swim with you, Wally," she said.
+
+"No, thanks. I'm going to the raft."
+
+"So am I," she answered.
+
+He looked at her and laughed. She looked like a Kewpie in her abbreviated
+bathing suit, with water wings fastened to her back. She walked rapidly
+into the sea, and, perforce, he followed. Miss Wilder shouted orders in
+vain from the shore. The tide was running in, and nearly high, so she was
+over her depth in a second, but she paddled out toward the distant raft,
+her head well out of the water, thanks to her wings. Much amused, Wally
+swam beside her into deep water.
+
+"It was a great surprise to me, the day I found I could swim," she said.
+
+"It must have been," he laughed.
+
+"It was a pleasant day," she added.
+
+"It is deep here," he said, to test her.
+
+"I know it. Don't you put your hands on me, Wally. I don't want to be
+touched," she admonished him.
+
+"Aren't you afraid?"
+
+"No."
+
+In due time they reached the raft. The youngster was winded, but
+undaunted. Bryce watched her with real admiration. Here was a dare-devil
+courage he vastly respected. He was timid and cautious himself.
+
+"Throw me off the raft, Wally; I like to splash," she ordered.
+
+"You're crazy," he said.
+
+"No. Mr. Page threw me off the club raft, when I asked him to."
+
+"Better not let me catch him at it. You sit still and get your breath
+and then we'll start back."
+
+He dived off the raft and instantly she followed him. He caught her by
+the arm, strangling and coughing.
+
+"You little devil," he said; "you'll drown."
+
+"No, I won't. Let go, Wally; I won't be helped."
+
+He headed her for shore, by pretending to race her, and once on land he
+urged Miss Wilder to watch her every minute, lest she swim for the raft
+alone.
+
+But this adventure had fixed Isabelle on her father's mind. He thought
+about her a good deal, and laughed at the thought. She certainly was a
+sport, and she was nobody's fool. He wondered if other children were
+like her, and began to watch them. He asked their fathers about them,
+but the fathers never knew. They always said: "I don't see much of the
+kids; too busy," or: "That's Mabel's job (or Kate's or Mary's)."
+
+He could not seem to remember seeing much of his father when he was a
+boy, save on state occasions when his parent was called upon to
+administer extra stiff punishment. He wondered if the other mothers knew
+more about their youngsters than Max did about hers? But when he asked
+them at the club, or on the golf course, they looked surprised and said:
+"I don't know anything about them, Wally; the governess looks after
+them."
+
+It evidently wasn't the thing, in their set, to bother about children.
+So he did not get much help from his friends in the difficult situation
+in which Max had placed him. She stood by her determination to leave the
+child to him, with irritating completeness. She even refused to give
+advice or help.
+
+Of course, he could leave well enough alone, let Miss Wilder blunder
+along with her somehow. That was evidently the way the rest of them did.
+He had almost decided upon this course, when he met Isabelle, standing
+on the pony's bare back, making him run, while poor Miss Wilder panted
+behind, protesting at every step.
+
+It brought him to a resolution. The kid ought to have a younger woman to
+look after her, one who could swim and ride and take some interest in
+her sports. If she was going to leap head first into every danger, she
+needed a girl to stand by, and leap in after her, if necessary.
+
+It took him several days to get up his nerve to dismiss Miss Wilder, but
+in the end, she met him half way. She said she could not stand the
+strain, that she had aged ten years in the two months she had been in
+charge of his daughter.
+
+"She is a very remarkable child, Mr. Bryce, and she needs very special
+treatment."
+
+"I suppose that is it. I will give you a month's extra salary, Miss
+Wilder, so you may take a rest. I know you need it."
+
+The next morning he bustled into Mrs. Bryce's room, where she was taking
+her breakfast in bed.
+
+"Mercy, Wally, are you sick?" she inquired; "it's barely nine o'clock."
+
+"I've got to go to town."
+
+"Town, this hot day?"
+
+"Yes. I fired old Wilder and I've got to get a new victim for our
+offspring. Where do you get 'em?"
+
+"Poor Wally," laughed his wife. "I advertise, or go to teachers'
+agencies, or any old way. Telephone in, and they'll send you something."
+
+"No; I'm going to get a young one."
+
+"And pretty, I suppose."
+
+"Don't be an idiot."
+
+He turned as the door opened and Isabelle came in. She was booted and
+hatted.
+
+"Good morning, Max," she said, sweetly.
+
+"Morning. Where are you going?"
+
+"To town, with Wally."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, I thought I'd better take her. She has to live with 'em, you
+know, and she has ideas on the subject."
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed aloud.
+
+"You two!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Come on, Wally," urged Isabelle, taking her father by the hand.
+
+"Which car are you using?" inquired Max.
+
+"She prefers the train," he explained.
+
+This brought another outburst of mirth.
+
+"My word, Wally! You're becoming a wonderful parent!" exclaimed Mrs.
+Bryce; and they fled before her laughter.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+Wally was surprised to find the trip to town shorter than usual. His
+daughter conducted herself with great dignity, and never missed a thing.
+An unbroken stream of conversation flowed from her lips, to the
+amusement of the people in the seats near by.
+
+There was one difficult moment, when in hurrying for their seats, Mrs.
+Page spied them out.
+
+"For goodness sake, Wally, where are you going?"
+
+"Taking Isabelle to town."
+
+"Without a nurse?"
+
+"I have a governess, not a nurse," protested Isabelle, indignantly.
+
+"Oh, excuse me," laughed Mrs. Page. "Where's Max?"
+
+"Home in bed," replied Isabelle, before Wally had formed an excuse.
+
+"I hear your infant introduced an Adam-and-Eve scene into her party,"
+Mrs. Page continued.
+
+Wally glanced anxiously at Isabelle.
+
+"This is Tommy Page's mother," he explained.
+
+"I know. He's a horrid boy," she answered, feelingly.
+
+Mrs. Page retired after this, and Wally undertook to argue with his
+daughter about unbecoming frankness.
+
+"It's _true_," she protested.
+
+"You don't have to tell everything you know."
+
+"Don't you have to tell the truth?"
+
+"Not when it hurts people's feelings."
+
+She thought that over, and he wondered what she would make of it. The
+little monkey seemed to remember every word that was said to her.
+
+"Let's have a punkin coach taxi," she said when they arrived in town.
+
+"What kind is that?"
+
+"All yellow, like the Cinderella one."
+
+"They don't have them at this station."
+
+"Make them get us one," urged the young arrogant.
+
+He laughed and they went out into the street and waited until a yellow
+taxi came. As they took their seats in the coach, Isabelle gazed at her
+father speculatively.
+
+"I am Cinderella, an' you've got to be the Fairy God-mother, I s'pose,
+but you don't look like her."
+
+"Couldn't I be the Prince?" inquired Wally.
+
+"No. Besides, he didn't ride in the coach," she corrected him,
+scornfully.
+
+They stopped at a drug shop to get a list of agencies, picked at random
+from the telephone book. The first one was very depressing. There were
+several governesses, but Isabelle would have none of them, and Wally did
+not blame her. The second agency offered to summon a dozen candidates if
+he would come back in two hours. He agreed to that, and made the same
+arrangement with the third place.
+
+"Now, we've got two hours to kill. What do you want to do?" he inquired.
+
+"I want to go on top the 'bus."
+
+"It's too hot."
+
+"Well, that's what I want to do."
+
+Wally sighed.
+
+"All right, come along," he said, aware of what her determination
+usually accomplished.
+
+He thought of Max, and felt himself absolutely martyred. This was her
+job. She was a slacker to put it off on him. In his irritation he
+glanced down at the cause of it, and found her looking at him.
+
+"Wally, does the hot make you sick?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"We could go to the Zoo in a taxi."
+
+"Thank you, I should prefer that."
+
+"All right"--cheerfully.
+
+"You're a good old thing!" he remarked, as he called a second coach.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They inspected the animals, and endured the awful smells thereof, with
+great satisfaction on the part of Isabelle and much self-restraint on
+the part of her parent.
+
+"Couldn't we have a gorilla out at The Beeches, Wally?" she inquired.
+
+"Lord, no! What do you want of a beast like that?"
+
+"I like them. They're so . . . different!" she said, hesitating over the
+adjective.
+
+Wally burst out laughing.
+
+"Don't you think they are?" she inquired politely.
+
+"Yes, all of that."
+
+On the way back to the agency, he counselled her on her behaviour.
+
+"Now, don't be fresh, Isabelle, and say, 'I don't like the wart on your
+nose,' or that kind of thing."
+
+"Do I have to get one with a wart on her nose?" she asked seriously.
+
+"No, no. I mean--don't say the wrong thing all the time."
+
+"But I don't know what is the wrong thing, Wally," she assured him.
+
+"I should say you didn't! You just let me do the talking. If you like
+the one I'm interviewing, just nod; if you don't, why shake your head.
+Get me?"
+
+"Like this?"--with neck-breaking violence of the head.
+
+"No--no. Gently, like this."
+
+They seated themselves in the agency room, and the governesses were
+presented. The usual drab, rather faded women, used to living in the
+background. Some of them resented Isabelle's presence, some of them
+spoke to her as to a baby. After about three sentences had been spoken,
+her head would move violently, and Wally got rid of the candidate.
+
+"Lord! they're a sad lot," he exclaimed.
+
+"What makes them sad?" she inquired.
+
+"Kids like you."
+
+They finished the first consignment without any luck, and went to the
+second place. It was simply a repetition. Isabelle seemed to sense their
+adhesion to type, for she finally burst out with:
+
+"Wally, I'd _like_ one with a wart on the nose."
+
+He finally approached the woman in charge.
+
+"Look here," he said, "we want a young one, with some pep."
+
+The woman stared in amazement.
+
+"Isn't there some place where the new ones go to register?" he
+continued.
+
+"You might try the college agencies. Their graduates sometimes try
+governessing."
+
+She gave him some addresses.
+
+"Thanks. I think we'll try them. My daughter, here, is rather exacting."
+
+The manager peered over her desk at the child, hostilely.
+
+"I don't like you, either," said Isabelle, promptly.
+
+Wally hurried her out. He was about worn out with this unaccustomed and
+exhausting strain. It had been years since Wally spent a whole day
+boring himself. His rage at Max grew, and he vented it on Isabelle.
+
+"For God's sake, don't sass the managers! We may have to go back there."
+
+"Does God care?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"You said, 'for God's sake.'"
+
+"Did I? Excuse me. Now go easy this time. We've got to get somebody, and
+we won't find an archangel, either."
+
+"I'd like an archangel," she remarked earnestly, her flagging interest
+reviving. "But she couldn't swim with wings, could she?"
+
+Wally groaned, but made no reply. At the college agency, they telephoned
+for two applicants, and after what seemed to Wally a week of tedium,
+they arrived. The first one was pretty and she knew it. She talked a
+great deal, and was saccharine to the little girl. Isabelle shook her
+head twice, but Wally seemed hypnotized by the woman's eloquence.
+
+"Don't let her talk, Wally; I won't have her," announced Isabelle.
+
+It took considerable finesse on Wally's part to get this explained and
+to get the young woman out of the room.
+
+"One more remark from you, like that last one, and I will engage the
+next hatchet-face that appears," he thundered.
+
+"What is a hatchet-face?" she asked, with interest.
+
+The other girl was tall, and undeniably plain. She was deeply tanned by
+the sun. She looked athletic, boyish in fact. She had a nice voice, and
+clear grey eyes. She met Isabelle's inspection with a grin. The child
+slid off her chair and went over to her.
+
+"What's your name?" she asked.
+
+"Ann. Ann Barnes."
+
+"Can you swim?"
+
+"Yes," smiled the girl.
+
+Isabelle took her hand.
+
+"I'll take you," she said.
+
+The girl stared at Wally, who, so far, had made no explanation.
+
+"Is she your child?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is her mother dead?"
+
+"No, Max is my mother," explained the youngster.
+
+"You see," said Wally, "Isabelle is a little devil. You might as well
+know the worst at once. She's got no manners at all, and she's spoiled
+to death."
+
+"Wally, you don't have to tell everything you know," quoted Isabelle,
+sharply.
+
+"Upon my word!" said Miss Barnes. "How old is she?"
+
+"She's just had her fourth birthday."
+
+"But she needs a nurse, not a governess."
+
+"I won't have a nurse. I want you."
+
+"She's had a lot of women, mostly old ones. I told Mrs. Bryce I thought
+she ought to have a young woman with her, and she told me that if I knew
+so much about it, I could get her a governess myself."
+
+"I see," said Miss Barnes; "and just what do you want her governess to
+do?"
+
+"Ride and swim with her, and keep her out of mischief. I suppose you
+would teach her something--letters and counting, and all that?"
+
+"A governess usually does," she smiled.
+
+"You would have full charge of her. We live in the country from April
+till Thanksgiving, and in town the rest of the time."
+
+"Come on, Ann, let's go; I'm tired," interrupted Isabelle.
+
+"But you aren't letting this baby decide who is to take care of her?"
+she protested.
+
+"I thought it was better. She gets rid of one a month, so in the end she
+does decide."
+
+"But it's so absurd."
+
+"We're--we're an absurd family," he admitted, gravely.
+
+"Don't talk, Wally; come on."
+
+"What does she call you?" Miss Barnes inquired.
+
+"Wally. My name is Walter, but every one calls me Wally. She calls her
+mother Max. We try to break her of it, but we can't."
+
+Miss Barnes shook her head.
+
+"I want to be a governess, you know, not a nurse."
+
+Isabelle realized that a crisis was at hand.
+
+"Sometimes I'm nice, aren't I, Wally?" she appealed.
+
+Miss Barnes could not have told why, but for the first time this
+abnormal, prissy child, with her self-assurance, and her impertinence,
+caught at her sympathies. Wally saw that she wavered.
+
+"Suppose that we call it an experiment for a month. I'll pay a hundred
+dollars a month. Come out with us this afternoon and try it. She's the
+limit of a kid, but she's got a lot of sense for her age, and maybe
+she'd be all right if somebody just gave her mind to her."
+
+"I'm willing to try it for a month, if I may have full charge of her.
+Would her mother agree to that?"
+
+"Oh, Max is never home; besides, she never sees me," spoke up the child.
+
+"She does see you," protested Wally.
+
+Isabelle made no reply, but somehow Miss Barnes caught the situation--the
+sense of neglect, of the child's loneliness.
+
+"I'll come for a month at the salary you mentioned."
+
+"Good. Can you pack a bag and go out on the 4:10 with us? We'll send you
+home in a taxi and send for you."
+
+She considered a moment.
+
+"All right."
+
+She rose, explained to the head of the bureau, and later they went out
+together.
+
+"Wally, when's lunch?" demanded Isabelle.
+
+"Now. We'll send Miss Barnes off in our cab, and pick up another. A cab
+will come for you at three thirty, Miss Barnes, and we'll meet you at
+the Information booth."
+
+"I'll be there. Good-bye, Isabelle."
+
+"Good-bye, Ann."
+
+Wally and Isabelle made their way to his club, where she insisted upon
+all the _verboten_ things for lunch.
+
+"Are you allowed to eat that?" he demanded.
+
+"Oh, yes, at parties."
+
+"Don't it make you sick?"
+
+"Yes. You're always sick after parties," she replied.
+
+A man stopped at the table to address a few jocose remarks to Wally, and
+he turned his glance upon the small girl.
+
+"Who is your beautiful companion, Wally?" he inquired.
+
+"My daughter, Isabelle. This is Duncan, the Club cut-up," he added to
+his guest.
+
+She inspected the man closely.
+
+"Who cuts you up?" she inquired.
+
+"The other club members," he retorted, followed by laughter and applause
+from the surrounding tables. Isabelle beamed in the spotlight.
+
+"I like this better than Max's club," she said, to the amusement of the
+next table.
+
+"Take us on, Wally, will you?" called one of them, and at his invitation
+they all moved over.
+
+"She doesn't look like her pretty mother, Wally," said one of them after
+they were presented.
+
+"No, poor kid, she looks like me," laughed Wally.
+
+"I look like Wally, but I'm smart!" she said, and beamed again at their
+uproar of mirth.
+
+She left, later, amidst reiterated invitations to come again. One man
+tried to kiss her, but she promptly blocked that.
+
+"I don't like kissing," she said.
+
+Wally inspected her on the way to the station. Her eyes were bright, her
+colour was high. She certainly had been a success at the club. There was
+something about the little beggar----
+
+"I liked those men," she remarked.
+
+"You were too fresh," he said, anxious to prick the bubble of her
+egotism. She made no answer, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that
+she knew he had been proud of her.
+
+"If you like this new girl, and want her to stay, you've got to turn
+over a new leaf," he warned her.
+
+"I haven't any new leaf," she said.
+
+"To turn over a new leaf means to make a new beginning, to be good, to
+act like a lady," he explained.
+
+They found Miss Barnes waiting for them. As soon as they were in their
+seats, aboard the train, Isabelle went to sleep, leaning against her new
+friend. Miss Barnes smiled, made the child comfortable, and opened a
+magazine, thus relieving Wally of any necessity of conversation.
+
+As they drove up to the house, they saw Mrs. Bryce come out on the
+terrace, where the butler was arranging the tea-table and chairs. She
+wore a soft pink gown, and a broad, rose-laden hat. She looked very
+young and lovely. She sauntered to meet them with her slightly
+disdainful smile.
+
+"Well?" she said.
+
+Wally turned to present Miss Barnes, but Isabelle was before him.
+
+"Max, this is Ann Barnes," she explained.
+
+Mrs. Bryce nodded at the newcomer.
+
+"What did you do in town?" she inquired of the child.
+
+"The Zoo, and Wally's club."
+
+"I hope you don't confuse them," laughed her mother.
+
+"I don't envy you your job," she added, over her shoulder to Miss
+Barnes.
+
+"What room is Miss Barnes to have, Max?" Wally called.
+
+"You'll have to attend to that," she replied, with a sort of arrogant
+disregard of Wally's protégée.
+
+"I'll show you, Ann," said Isabelle, adding: "nasty old Max!"
+
+"Isabelle! your own mother!" protested Miss Barnes.
+
+The child took her by the hand and led her into the house, with a
+dignity which would have been admirable, had it not been so pathetic.
+Miss Barnes felt that she was stepping off terra firma, and lighting on
+Mars, so strange and muddled was this new world she had entered upon.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+It was a strange throw of Chance that tossed Ann Barnes into the heart
+of the Bryce family--or rather into its midst, for it seemed to Ann that
+there wasn't any heart to the family. The first weeks she spent at The
+Beeches were positively bewildering.
+
+She was the eldest daughter of a small-town lawyer, in Vermont. There
+were five younger children, and after Ann's graduation at the State
+University, she set forth to make fame and fortune, with the ultimate
+object of rescuing her father and mother from the financial anxieties
+which had always beset them.
+
+She was just an average healthy, fine American girl brought up in a
+normal, small-town American family. As the eldest, she had been her
+mother's assistant. She had served her apprenticeship in cooking,
+nursing babies, patching small clothes, turning old things around and
+upside down, in order to make them over. She could market wisely, she
+could "manage" on little.
+
+So much for her practical training. She knew all the inconveniences and
+anxieties of an insufficient and variable income. But she also knew the
+unselfishness, the affectionate give-and-take of a big family. She knew
+what miracles the loving patience of her mother daily performed. She
+knew the selflessness of her father, which kept him at the treadmill of
+his profession that his children might have an education, might have
+their chance. Hospitality, kindness, love; these were of the very fibre
+of Ann's being.
+
+It was part of the trick Fate played on her that Wally's offer had come
+to her the first week she was in New York, when the terror of the Big
+Town had just laid hold of her. New York, contemplated from Vermont, was
+the city of all opportunity; but New York, face to face, with a
+financial reserve of fifty dollars, was a very different matter.
+
+Isabelle had amazed and interested her, and Wally had offered her what
+seemed a fabulous salary. No wonder she had seized the opportunity, with
+happy plans of sending the first check home, intact. But daily for the
+first week, amidst the undreamed-of luxuries of The Beeches she felt
+that she must run away, back to the things she knew and understood. And
+yet every day brought her evidences of Isabelle's need of her, and Ann's
+intrinsic sense of fairness made her feel that somebody ought to stand
+by the child.
+
+Her first interview with Mrs. Bryce did not occur until the second day
+after her arrival. She waited to be summoned all of the first day, but
+heard nothing, saw nothing of her new employer. The second day she sent
+word asking for a conference. She was given an audience while Mrs.
+Bryce's maid was dressing her to go out to lunch. She nodded casually to
+Ann.
+
+"You wanted to see me?"
+
+"Yes; I--I thought we would better talk over your plans for Isabelle."
+
+"I haven't any plans for her. My only desire is to keep her out of the
+way."
+
+"But I don't know what she is permitted to do," Ann began.
+
+"She is permitted to do anything she wants to," laughed Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"But that isn't good for her"--earnestly.
+
+Mrs. Bryce's glance at the girl was full of scornful amusement.
+
+"No, but it's good for the rest of us. We can't live in the house with
+her otherwise."
+
+Ann stared. She did not know how to cope with this kind of woman. Mrs.
+Bryce made her feel a clumsy fool, a sort of country bumpkin.
+
+"This isn't my job anyway, it's Wally's. He is guiding Isabelle's
+destiny this summer. Didn't he tell you?"
+
+"Yes, but I thought the child's mother would naturally want to say----"
+blundered Ann.
+
+"Well, her mother doesn't. Do anything you can to make her less of a
+nuisance, that's my only advice."
+
+It was clear that the interview was ended, so Ann rose. With glowing
+appeal Mrs. Bryce turned her pretty face, with its sudden smile, upon
+the girl.
+
+"Nice, kind Miss Barnes, don't bother me about Isabelle, will you? She
+bores me to death."
+
+Ann got out of the room somehow. She felt cold shivers down her spine,
+as if she had touched something revolting. She thought of _her_ mother,
+and Jinny, the little sister nearest Isabelle's age. She was so homesick
+for them, she just thought she would die. She went to the nursery where
+she had left Isabelle, and, as she entered, the child was shaking hands
+with an imaginary guest, saying in perfect imitation of her mother's
+manner: "Oh, howdye do, Mrs. Page?"
+
+"Dorothy and Reginald and I are having a bridge party," she explained.
+
+But Ann didn't listen. She just picked Isabelle up in her arms, and
+hugged her tight, kissing her over and over again.
+
+"You poor baby--you poor little mite!" she said over and over.
+
+But after the first shock of surprise, Isabelle rebelled.
+
+"Don't! Put me down! I don't like to be kissed!" she cried.
+
+Ann set her down and knelt before her.
+
+"Why don't you like to be kissed?" she demanded.
+
+"Because"--defiantly.
+
+"Isabelle, have you ever been rocked and sung to and tucked into bed at
+night?"
+
+Isabelle shook her head, her big eyes fixed on Ann's face, so full of
+emotion.
+
+"Did you ever have anybody tickle you awake, in the morning, and kiss
+you until you laughed?"
+
+The child shook her head again.
+
+"It's a shame!" cried Ann. "Why Jinny gets kissed a hundred times a day
+by everybody."
+
+"Who's Jinny?"
+
+"My little sister, who is your age."
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+"In my home, up in Vermont."
+
+"What does she do?"
+
+"Sit down, and I'll tell you about her."
+
+Isabelle promptly sat down on the floor beside Ann.
+
+"In the morning, after breakfast, she picks up the papers and school
+books and toys and things the children leave around----"
+
+"What children?"
+
+"My other brothers and sisters. There's Walter and Helen and Tommy and
+Barbara, but Jinny is our baby. When she gets things picked up she dusts
+the bottoms of the chairs and the legs of the tables. Then she helps
+mother make the beds. She can beat up the pillows and tuck the sheets
+neatly."
+
+"Isn't there any chambermaid?"
+
+"No. Then she studies her letters. She almost knows them. She goes to
+market with mother, and then she plays in the yard until dinner."
+
+"Max doesn't go to market."
+
+Ann ignored that.
+
+"Then the children troop in to dinner, from school. Such a scramble,
+such a wrestling, and shouting, and face washing! You ought to hear it."
+
+"But it's _lunch_ at noon," corrected Isabelle.
+
+"No; we have dinner."
+
+"What do you have for dinner?"
+
+"Boiled beef and potatoes, bread and butter and jam, and a pudding. Then
+the older ones tramp off to school again and Jinny takes her nap."
+
+"I hate naps."
+
+"Jinny doesn't. She likes them. She knows they make her strong and
+sweet-tempered and pretty."
+
+"Would naps make me pretty?"
+
+"I think so. Everybody is pretty who has pink cheeks, and a kind
+expression, don't you think so?"
+
+"Max hasn't a kind expression; she's cross"--quickly.
+
+"But she has lovely skin, all pink and white."
+
+"I think you're prettier than Max. Then what does Jinny do next?"
+
+So the story went on with elaborate detail, until every waking moment of
+Jinny's day was accounted for. It was absorbing to Isabelle, and it was
+a satisfaction for Ann to have this outlet for her homesickness. So it
+began, but it grew to be a significant make-believe, for as the days
+went by, she discovered that Isabelle could be absolutely ruled by her
+imagination. The new game was called "Playing Jinny." She began to dust
+the nursery chairs and to pick up toys and playthings. She demanded
+lessons in letters. Any misdemeanour that was met with the remark, "Of
+course, Jinny would never do that," was never repeated.
+
+Day after day she demanded the story again, and daily Ann added to the
+picture of her mother, always at the call of her children, of her
+father, reading aloud on Friday nights, as a special treat, while they
+all sat round the fire in the shabby old living room.
+
+She described how they all worked and saved to buy Christmas presents
+for one another; how happy they were over simple gifts, even a red lead
+pencil. How they hid the presents all over the house and had a "hunt" on
+Christmas morning, instead of having a tree. The story went on and on,
+until Isabelle actually lived in the circle of the Barnes family.
+
+But one unfortunate day, Isabelle strayed into her mother's room,
+determined upon experiment.
+
+"Max, will you take me to market with you?" she inquired.
+
+"I don't go to market, silly; the housekeeper markets."
+
+"Why don't you tuck me in, and kiss me good-night?" the child continued,
+her eyes fixed on her mother's startled face.
+
+"I'm never here when you go to bed," defended Mrs. Bryce. "What is all
+this? I thought you didn't like to be kissed."
+
+"I wish you'd have six children," Isabelle sighed.
+
+"Good heavens! Isabelle, don't be silly!"
+
+So Isabelle gave it up. She realized that something was lacking. She
+sought out Miss Barnes with the problem.
+
+"Why don't Max and Wally do like father and mother Barnes?"
+
+"Well," Ann evaded, "it is different, you see. Your father and mother
+are rich, and mine are poor. Your parents have lots to do--golf and
+bridge and parties--and father and mother Barnes have only their
+children to interest them. They're just regular parents," she added,
+lamely.
+
+"But I want some regular parents," replied Isabelle.
+
+Ann was nonplussed.
+
+"We can't all have them, honey," she said. "Jinny would like lots of
+things you have--a pony, and toys, and pretty clothes."
+
+"She can have mine."
+
+"She has to do many things you would not like to do."
+
+"I don't care. I'd do them."
+
+"But you can't change your parents. God gives them to you, and you have
+to keep them," she laughed.
+
+"Then why didn't God give me regular parents?"
+
+Ann hastily diverted the youngster's thoughts into other channels, but
+she came back to it again and yet again--her desire for "regular
+parents."
+
+One of the habits acquired from Jinny was a daily nap. She religiously
+put herself to bed, after luncheon, and each day upon rising she
+inspected herself in the glass to see if she was growing prettier.
+
+"I don't see that it helps much," she said frequently.
+
+But Ann encouraged her to persevere, partly because she felt that the
+highly strung child needed the rest, and partly because it was Ann's
+only breathing space in the twenty-four hours. Usually she went for a
+walk, carrying a book under her arm.
+
+One day as she started off on such a ramble Mrs. Bryce sent for her.
+
+"Miss Barnes, would you do me a favour? The dry-cleaner in Rockville has
+a lace gown of mine which I want to wear this afternoon, when some
+people are coming to tea. Would you motor over and get it? You could
+take the imp with you."
+
+"Isabelle is asleep just now."
+
+"Go before she wakes up, then."
+
+"Could one of the maids look after her, if she wakes?"
+
+"Yes, of course. I shall be so obliged."
+
+So Ann set forth in the motor, glad of a free hour or two in the open.
+She enjoyed it to the full, and although it took longer than she had
+anticipated, she carried the gown to Mrs. Bryce's door at five.
+
+"So much obliged," said that lady, sweetly.
+
+The nursery was empty, so were the bedrooms. Ann asked the maids where
+Isabelle was. No one had seen her. She went out into the grounds and to
+all her favourite haunts, but no Isabelle. Then, thoroughly alarmed, she
+went to Mrs. Bryce's door again.
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, did you send a maid to look after Isabelle?"
+
+"Oh, no, I forgot it"--in an annoyed tone.
+
+"I can't find her."
+
+"Can't find her? Oh, she must be somewhere,"--absently.
+
+"But I have looked everywhere. No one saw her go out. I have been gone
+over two hours, you know."
+
+Something of Ann's excitement affected Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Oh, she couldn't get away far. Kate," she called to a maid in the
+dressing room, "did you see Isabelle?"
+
+"I saw her just after Miss Barnes left," said the girl. "She had on her
+best hat and coat, and I sez to her: 'Where ye goin?' an' she sez to me:
+'I'm goin' to look for some reg'lar parunts' an' she went out the side
+door. I thought somebody was lookin' after her."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, she's run away!" cried Ann.
+
+"Wouldn't you know she'd do it on a day when I was having a special
+tea!" she blazed.
+
+"Oh!" said Ann, looking the other woman straight in the eyes, and Mrs.
+Bryce knew that this girl despised her. Not that it mattered, but it was
+annoying at the moment.
+
+"Don't stand there talking. Get the chauffeur and tell him to go look
+for her," she ordered, turning to receive the lace gown that the maid
+held over her head.
+
+Ann ran out of the room, and down the stairs. She started for the beach
+where they went swimming. Henry the chauffeur passed her, calling out
+that he was going to the neighbours to inquire. Ann turned back to go to
+the gardener's lodge and find out the whereabouts of Patsy. As she ran
+she sobbed to herself, at the thought of the forlorn little figure in
+its best hat and coat, setting out on a crusade to find "regular
+parents!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FIVE
+
+
+Mrs. Bryce wore the white lace gown, and had her tea. Wally commandeered
+all the servants except the cook and the butler to help in the search
+for Isabelle. He and the chauffeur and Ann conducted scouting parties in
+all directions.
+
+"Where's Wally, Max?" inquired Mrs. Page.
+
+"He's dashing around somewhere looking for Isabelle. She's lost."
+
+"Lost? But where is the jewel who looks after her? Wally told me yards
+about her."
+
+"I sent her on an errand, and Isabelle got away. She can't have gone
+far."
+
+"Do you share Wally's enthusiasm over the new governess?"
+
+"I do not," replied Mrs. Bryce, adding, "Wally has become a passionate
+parent."
+
+"Whatever started him?"
+
+"_I_ did, worse luck! You know how all the useless men in the world dote
+on telling a woman about her duties? Now Wally's only job is to invest
+money in the wrong things, but he is full of ideas about being a
+mother."
+
+There was general mirth at this point, on the part of the guests.
+
+"I was so moved by his remarks that I dumped my cares upon him for the
+summer. He is outrageously superior about himself as parent. _He_ has
+found the perfect governess, _he_ discovers that our offspring has a
+brain; you should hear him go on."
+
+"I have," protested Mrs. Page. "He used to make love to me, but now he
+tells me his domestic problems."
+
+"He has the entire house upset now, because she has run off, but when he
+finds her, he won't have backbone enough to spank her," laughed Mrs.
+Wally.
+
+"It always amuses me how parents agonize over the lost child, and spank
+it when it's found," said Martin Christiansen, the guest of honour at
+the tea.
+
+"Not being a parent you don't realize that there is a large, well-defined
+body of parentisms. We all say the same things, do the same things to
+children, instinctively and without thought," Mrs. Page assured him.
+
+"Puts you at such a disadvantage with your child, for the youngster
+thinks freshly, doesn't it, Mrs. Bryce?"
+
+"I know mine thinks freshly--she's a brat! I keep out of her way,
+myself," remarked his hostess.
+
+Presently dusk fell and still no signs of the child. Wally came back to
+telephone the police stations of the towns near them. He barely glanced
+at the laughing group on his terrace, but Mrs. Page spied him, and came
+to call out:
+
+"Found her yet, Wally?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Better come have your tea, Wally," Mrs. Bryce suggested.
+
+"Damn," said Wally, under his breath, as he hurried into the house
+without any reply.
+
+"Had we not better go? Aren't you anxious, Mrs. Bryce?" inquired
+Christiansen.
+
+"Oh, no; she'll turn up."
+
+"Nothing will happen to her, she's too smart," commented Mrs. Page.
+
+They took their departure shortly. Mrs. Bryce ordered the cook to hold
+back dinner. Then she let her vexation grow. It was outrageous that this
+little pest should upset things so completely. She had been especially
+anxious to impress this Mr. Christiansen, whom she had recently met. He
+was a distinguished _littérateur_ and critic, as well as a stunning
+giant of a man. The white lace gown had been entirely for his benefit.
+And yet because of Isabelle he had been critical of her. Man-like he had
+convictions about woman's job. He probably thought she should have been
+running around the country, in hysterics, looking for her chee-ild.
+
+At nine o'clock she heard the motor come to the door. She went into
+the hall. Ann got out first and helped Wally. He was carrying the
+heroine--asleep, in the utter relaxation of tired babyhood. She was
+dirty, and her best hat dangled from its elastic, crushed and dusty.
+
+"Well," remarked Mrs. Bryce, "where was she?"
+
+"I'll take her up to the bedroom, Miss Barnes," Wally said, and he
+started off.
+
+"Really, Wally, Miss Barnes can certainly manage to get her to bed,"
+protested Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"She's rather heavy. I'll just----"
+
+"Put her down and let her walk then. I've waited for my dinner as long
+as I intend to."
+
+Wally went on upstairs with his burden, and as Ann passed Mrs. Bryce
+her scorn and hatred of that lace-clad lady was as obvious as a spoken
+word. Mrs. Bryce went to the table and ordered her dinner. When Wally
+joined her he looked "all in."
+
+"I suppose you don't care whether she gets killed or not."
+
+"Well, but she didn't get killed, so I don't have to excite myself, do
+I?"
+
+"You might show a little decent feeling before Miss Barnes."
+
+"I don't have to please Miss Barnes--or any of my servants, if it comes
+to that."
+
+"You're a brute, Max!"
+
+"If you're going to be tiresome, I'll finish my dinner upstairs," she
+replied. "Heaven knows, if I'd had any idea you would be such a bore
+about her, I'd never have turned her over to you."
+
+"Do you know why she ran away? She went to find some 'regular parents'--so
+she said."
+
+"We don't suit then?" Mrs. Bryce laughed crisply.
+
+"The poor little devil walked and walked, and when she was too tired to
+go any farther she asked a milk wagon driver to give her a lift, so she
+got away over to Rockville."
+
+"Where did she get this idea about parents?"
+
+"Miss Barnes explained to me on the way home, that she and Isabelle have
+a game called 'Playing Jinny.' Jinny is Miss Barnes's little sister and
+Isabelle pretends that she lives in the Barnes family."
+
+"So, it is your paragon who has set her against her own parents."
+
+"No, she didn't mean to do that. She says she had no idea that the child
+would take it seriously and start off to find the Barnes home."
+
+"Do you think it desirable to have your child in the sole charge of a
+woman who poisons her mind against you and me?"
+
+"But she doesn't do that, Max. Isabelle adores her. It was just a game,
+I tell you."
+
+"So _she_ says."
+
+On the way to the library, after dinner, they came upon Ann in the hall.
+
+"May I speak to you, Miss Barnes?" Max inquired coolly.
+
+"Certainly," the girl replied, and followed them into the room beyond.
+
+"Just what is it that you have been telling Isabelle, which sets her off
+on this ridiculous jaunt?" demanded Mrs. Bryce, insolently.
+
+"I told her about my home, and my little sister, who is her age. She
+started off to find her," answered Ann, simply.
+
+"Do you think it is a part of your duty to set her against her parents?"
+
+"I have never discussed her parents with her."
+
+"I'm sure Miss Barnes isn't to blame, Max," put in Wally.
+
+"I think she is." Mrs. Bryce cut him off. "You may take the noon train
+to town to-morrow, Miss Barnes."
+
+"Oh, I say, Max!" protested Wally.
+
+"It's all right, Mr. Bryce," Ann said. "I hate to leave Isabelle, but
+what can I do to help her? She's just doomed!"
+
+"Doomed to live with us, Wally," laughed Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Yes, doomed to live with you," the girl replied. "To get along without
+help, or love. To see her mother occasionally--a strange woman in the
+house. What right have you and your crowd to have children?" she
+demanded, hotly.
+
+"Such impudence!" burst out Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"I've never known any one like you before, and you fill me with horror!"
+Ann retorted.
+
+"This may amuse you, Wally, but it doesn't me," remarked Mrs. Bryce,
+walking out of the room.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Bryce; I didn't mean to say all that. I am so tired and
+excited from hunting Isabelle, and it seemed so terrible to me that she
+didn't care about her own baby being lost, that I just burst out."
+
+"I know how overstrained you are, but of course, under the circumstances
+you will see----" he answered miserably.
+
+"Oh, I couldn't stay in the house another minute."
+
+"Mrs. Bryce is very self-contained, she's not excitable as you and I
+are," he tried to explain.
+
+"I hate to leave Isabelle. Oh, Mr. Bryce, try to look after her a
+little, try to love her a little, she does need it so!"
+
+The next day as she stepped to the platform of the train the chauffeur
+handed her a letter from Wally. There was an enclosure of two hundred
+dollars, which he begged she would accept as a present from Isabelle.
+He thanked her and regretted the necessity of her going.
+
+So Ann passed out of Isabelle's life, mourned and lamented for months by
+the child. She represented the only tenderness, the only understanding
+and sympathy that came into Isabelle's childhood. The little belated
+tendrils of affection she had put forth toward her world, under Ann's
+warm influence, shrivelled and died. Her wits against them all, that was
+the motto she decided upon, in the bitter wisdom of her four brief
+years.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER SIX
+
+
+During the years that followed many were the governesses set up by Mrs.
+Bryce to be promptly knocked down, as it were, by Isabelle. They would
+either depart of their own accord, or they would be sent flying by the
+irate Mrs. Bryce after some escapade of her incorrigible offspring.
+
+"She'll end in a reform school!" she remarked to Wally one day, upon the
+dismissal of the latest one.
+
+He sought out his daughter and laboured with her.
+
+"Look here, kid, how many governesses have you had lately?"
+
+"Oodles of 'em."
+
+"But what do you do to them?"
+
+"Get rid of 'em, they're no good. Can't you get Max to let me have Ann
+again?"
+
+"I'm afraid not."
+
+"I won't have any of these she gets me--old snoops!"
+
+"She does the best she can," Wally defended.
+
+"She does not. She doesn't even look at 'em, just telephones for one to
+be sent out. Let's you and me go pick out another one, Wally."
+
+"I'm sorry, but your mother won't stand for it. Ann gave her a piece of
+her mind before she left, and Max blames me for it."
+
+"If she'd get Ann, I'd be so good she'd never have to change again."
+
+"Why don't you tell her that?"
+
+"I did. It makes her mad. You tell her, Wally."
+
+"She gets mad at me, too."
+
+"If you get mad back and yell at her, she stops. That's what I do," she
+advised him.
+
+"Look here, it would be a lot more comfortable for you to put up with
+some woman, even if you don't like her. You always have to get used to a
+new one."
+
+"I don't. They have to get used to me," the imp replied. "Where you
+going?" she added.
+
+"I'm going to exercise Nero."
+
+"Take me."
+
+"Can't look after you and that horse, too."
+
+"I'm not a baby," she scorned him. "Tell them to bring the pony round,
+Wally."
+
+Later when she threw her breeched leg over her horse, and waited for
+Wally to mount, he exclaimed:
+
+"Lord, I wish you'd been a boy!"
+
+"So do I."
+
+They started off. She had discarded the old Shetland pony as too
+childish, and demanded a real steed. So Wally had given her a small
+Peruvian horse, delicately made and fleet of foot. She rode him like a
+leaf on the wind. She jumped hedges and fences and ditches; she did
+circus tricks, and finally nagged Wally's Nero into a race.
+
+"You're some rider, Isabelle," he said, on the way home.
+
+"You bet I am!" she replied.
+
+At the door Matthews, the butler, announced that the new governess had
+arrived.
+
+"Damn it!" ejaculated Isabelle.
+
+Wally reproved her sharply, but she was inattentive.
+
+"Let's fire her, Wally, and you take care of me."
+
+"Would you like that?" he said, touched by this unusual mark of
+affection.
+
+"Yes. You always do what I want you to," replied his tactless child.
+
+"I have other things to do than to look after a fresh little shrimp like
+you."
+
+The "new one" was a middle-aged English gentlewoman of the usual
+governess type. Isabelle knew the kind thoroughly. She had initiated
+whole companies of them into life at The Beeches. Miss Watts, this one
+was called. She was putting her things into bureau drawers, when
+Isabelle appeared at the door of the bathroom which joined their rooms.
+
+"Is this Isabelle?" inquired the new victim.
+
+The child nodded.
+
+"How do you do? I am Miss Watts."
+
+"I know."
+
+"I hope we are going to be friends----"
+
+"I never like governesses--only one."
+
+"Why did you like this one?" inquired Miss Watts.
+
+She was so used to the lack of manners in the children she taught, that
+this one seemed no worse than usual.
+
+"Because she was young and could swim and ride and tell me stories."
+
+"I'm too old to swim and ride, but I can tell stories."
+
+She went on with her unpacking.
+
+"What kinds of stories?"
+
+"All kinds. I know hundreds of stories. Can you read?"
+
+"I know letters, and 'cat' and 'rat,' but I can't read big books. Let's
+hear you tell a story."
+
+"I will, with pleasure, when I finish here."
+
+"But I want it now."
+
+"It will take me only a little while."
+
+"But I won't wait."
+
+Miss Watts became aware that this was the initial clash of arms.
+
+"No? Well, don't let me keep you then. Is that your room?"
+
+"If you don't do what I want, I'll yell so everybody in the house will
+come to see what's the matter."
+
+Miss Watts glanced at her and smiled.
+
+"That will be interesting," she said.
+
+Whereupon Isabelle opened her mouth and emitted long, loud shrieks. Miss
+Watts continued counting handkerchiefs. The howls grew more artificial
+in quality, but louder in volume. Isabelle grew red in the face. This
+was hard work. After about three minutes of bedlam Miss Watts remarked:
+
+"But where is the audience, Isabelle? I'm afraid you have cried 'Wolf!
+Wolf!' too often."
+
+Isabelle stopped long enough to shout:
+
+"I didn't cry 'Wolf!'"
+
+"No?" said Miss Watts, seating herself by the window. "I've finished
+now. Is your concert over?"
+
+The child stared at her.
+
+"Maybe you'd be interested in the story of the man who cried 'Wolf!
+Wolf!'"
+
+Isabelle smarted under a sense of defeat.
+
+"I won't have any stories now."
+
+"Very good. Of course, I only tell stories as a favour," she added,
+pointedly.
+
+The youngster went into her own room. Miss Watts heard her banging
+around in there. Presently she appeared again.
+
+"Why did the man cry 'Wolf! Wolf!'?" she demanded.
+
+"Sit down, and I'll tell you," answered Miss Watts, pleasantly.
+
+So the story was told, and the new relationship inaugurated which was to
+last for several years.
+
+Miss Watts was a woman of considerable intellectual capacity, with a
+passion for books. She was ill-fitted for the sole charge of a
+five-year-old girl of Isabelle's vitality, but her poise and sense of
+humour won the child's respect. After that first experiment there were
+no more spasms of howling. Miss Watts never tried to sentimentalize
+their relationship. She recognized the child's unusual quality, and her
+precocity. She was at present an unendurable human being, thanks to her
+bringing up. Her ideas and ideals were servant-made. If she could be
+brought to see herself as socially an outcast, because of her bad
+manners, Miss Watts knew it would effect a cure.
+
+On her side, Isabelle found Miss Watts's mind a storehouse of treasures.
+She told stories of all countries, and all times, and she told them
+well. The only punishment ever inflicted was the abolishment of the
+story hour, and this was the only chastisement Isabelle had ever
+regarded as such. There was a marked improvement in her behaviour and
+the members of her household drew a long breath of relief.
+
+Miss Watts piqued the girl's interest in the study hours, and, as if by
+a miracle, she learned to read. The teacher found an extraordinary
+concentration of effort to acquire anything the girl desired. Promised
+the joy of finding stories for herself, the student applied herself and
+learned by magic. She was extremely proud of the new accomplishment, and
+would have read constantly if Miss Watts had not settled upon literary
+pursuits as the reward of virtue.
+
+One of the by-products of the new ability was a tighter hold on her
+leadership of the children she played with. Everything she read
+suggested new and wonderful games. As originator and inventor she always
+played the leading rôles, assisted by the others.
+
+Summer days provided uninterrupted opportunity for her talents. She
+turned the playhouse into a theatre, and organized a supporting company.
+Sometimes Miss Watts assisted with the scenario, sometimes Isabelle was
+sole author or adapter.
+
+It was the year when she was eight, and just beginning to read Dickens,
+that she prepared a presentation of "A Tale of Two Cities." She worked
+at it with great enthusiasm for fully a week. Then she appeared in her
+mother's room.
+
+"Max, can I have lemonade and cake for the audience this afternoon?"
+
+"What audience?"
+
+"At the Isabelle Theatre."
+
+"Who's coming?"
+
+"Everybody. Parents and relatives. I rode around to all the houses this
+morning and issued the invitations. They all accepted."
+
+"Why didn't you consult me before you invited the neighbourhood
+in?"--hotly.
+
+"I thought you'd kick about the refreshments."
+
+"If you ever do this again you will get no refreshments and I will send
+your friends home."
+
+"They're yours too. Martin Christiansen said he would not miss it for a
+kingdom."
+
+"You call him Mr. Christiansen, when you speak of him, Miss Impudence.
+What do you intend to do to entertain all these people?"
+
+"'A Tale of Two Cities,' by Charles Dickens."
+
+"In the playhouse?"
+
+"Yes; it will be crowded, but people can sit on the floor."
+
+"You can't ask people to sit on the floor in that stuffy box!"
+
+"Well, I asked you to let me use the garage and you wouldn't."
+
+"So that's why you asked all these people."
+
+"That's only one reason. Matthews and Henry can carry chairs to the
+garage this morning. We can move the stage our own selves. The play
+begins at two."
+
+"Hottest time in the day."
+
+"You don't have to come."
+
+"Who's in your show?"
+
+"I am the star, and Tommy Page is Carton. He's no good because he
+giggles, but Mr. Christiansen wouldn't play it. I asked him first."
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed.
+
+"I suppose you could do with ice cream and cake."
+
+"We could"--promptly.
+
+"What are you going to wear?"
+
+"I have several costumes. I took your velvet opera coat for the
+rehearsal. Do you mind?"
+
+"Mind? Certainly I mind. Don't you dare touch anything in my closet."
+
+"All right," replied her daughter, coolly; "Tommy brought over his
+mother's best coat in case you were huffy."
+
+"I shall call Madge Page up this minute and tell her."
+
+"Very well, but if you do, I'll announce before the curtain goes up,
+that because of _traitors_ there are no costumes."
+
+She saw that that shot took effect.
+
+"You'd better let it alone, Max. I've got it all thought out," she
+added.
+
+"I'd like to spank you!" Max exploded.
+
+At the door Isabelle turned.
+
+"Don't you care anything about ART?" she demanded.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER SEVEN
+
+
+As Mrs. Bryce and Wally came out from luncheon, they beheld the first
+consignment of friends and relatives, a motor car full from the Pages.
+
+"We've come to the matineé," laughed Mrs. Page.
+
+"It's ridiculous of you," retorted her hostess.
+
+"I would not have missed it for anything," said Martin Christiansen.
+
+"I hear she invited you to play Carton," jeered Wally.
+
+"I never was more flattered in my life. But I persuaded her that I was
+not the type."
+
+Other motors began to arrive with beaming parents, and excited children.
+The terrace was almost crowded when finally, after much delay, and trips
+to and from the house, Teddy Horton rushed into view, announcing through
+a megaphone that the doors of the Isabelle Theatre were open. Everybody
+strolled toward the garage and soon all the "stalls" were full.
+
+Isabelle appeared before the sheets which served as curtain. She was
+pale, composed, and in deadly earnest.
+
+"Fathers and mothers, and ladies and gentlemen," she began, "we are
+going to give a play called 'A Tale of Two Cities,' by Charles Dickens
+and me."
+
+She was undisturbed by their laughter and applause.
+
+"We didn't have time to print programmes, so I will tell you the
+characters: Mademoiselle Lucy Manet--Isabelle Bryce; Dr. Manet, her
+father--Margie Hunter; Madame La Farge--Isabelle Bryce; Mr. Lorry--Margie
+Hunter; Charles D'Arnay--Teddy Horton; Sidney Carton--Tommy Page.
+Manager--Isabelle Bryce."
+
+More applause.
+
+"The first scene is An Inn. Mr. Lorry is waiting for Lucy Manet."
+
+She made a low bow, and walked off, followed by much hand clapping. Some
+time elapsed, and then by slow laborious jerks the sheets were parted,
+and Margie Hunter, a fat serious girl of nine, was discovered in her
+father's overcoat and hat, pacing the floor. She rather overdid the
+pacing, so a strident voice prompted: "My Blood!" and yet again, and
+louder: "My Blood!"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Mr. Lorry. Then in a deep chest tone, he inquired: "My
+Blood! Why doesn't Mademoiselle Lucy Manet, my old client's, child,
+appear?"
+
+Enter Lucy Manet. She wears Mrs. Page's best opera coat, which extracts
+a groan from the owner. Her bobbed brown hair is barely covered by the
+long yellow shaving curls which more or less crown her head. A
+Gainsborough hat of her mother's threatens to submerge her countenance,
+and she carries a walking stick of Wally's as a staff. But for all the
+ridiculous figure she cut, there was an earnestness and a sort of style
+to her entrance, that cut short the first outburst of laughter.
+
+"Sir, are you Mr. Lorry?" she demanded.
+
+"I am. I kiss your hand, Miss."
+
+"I have had a long trip in the stage coach. . . . Did you bring me to
+England when I was an orphan child?"
+
+"Miss Manet, it was me, but you aren't an orphan."
+
+She kneels.
+
+"Quick, sir, the truth!" she cries.
+
+"Your father is found. He is a wreckage in prison."
+
+Lucy Manet faints. Curtain.
+
+Both actors were forced to take a curtain call after this. Isabelle
+manages to push fat Margie into the wings while she stays on, bowing, to
+announce:
+
+"Margie Hunter is Dr. Manet this scene."
+
+The next scene discovers Margie Hunter, in a long beard, cobbling a
+shoe, hastily contributed by Tommy Page at the last moment. A dramatic
+and tender meeting between father and child was played in a tense key,
+only slightly marred by the frequent loss of Father Manet's hirsute
+appendage.
+
+The scene changed suddenly and unexpectedly to the court room in England
+where D'Arnay appears as prisoner. Margie Hunter played the judge. Teddy
+Horton as D'Arnay was so overcome with stage fright that Isabelle had to
+tell him all his lines. However, when it came to Lucy Manet's testimony
+the scene lifted. At the climax, just when Sidney Carton was to make his
+dramatic entrance into the story, it was discovered that Tommy had not
+his shoe. In the quick change, it had been left in the corner of Manet's
+garret. The action was held up while it was restored to him, but he put
+it on so hastily that he lost it once or twice during the scene. It kept
+his mind off his lines, rather. The moment came when the striking
+resemblance between D'Arnay and Carton is pointed out by Lucy. Tommy
+Page--plump, short, red-haired, with freckles--and Teddy Horton--tall,
+gangling, half a head taller than his double--stood side by side facing
+the audience.
+
+Up to this moment a certain restraint had marked that body, but at this
+sight they went into uncontrolled spasms of delight. Martin Christiansen,
+dramatic critic, was seen to wipe tears of joy from his cheeks. The actors
+were spurred to renewed efforts.
+
+Carton declared his eternal devotion to Lucy, in words that were
+scarcely Dickensian.
+
+"I like you, Lucy; you're all right. I'll stick to you for ever," he
+improvised frantically.
+
+The marriage scene between Lucy and D'Arnay ran something like this.
+D'Arnay, very accurate in his lines, remarks to Dr. Manet:
+
+"Dr. Manet, I love your daughter--fondly, dearly. You loved once
+yourself; let your old love speak for me!"
+
+Dr. Manet's lines escaped him, so he replied informally:
+
+"Oh--all right."
+
+Whereupon the bridal procession entered, with Isabelle as climax, in her
+mother's best tulle scarf as a veil.
+
+The scene once more shifted to Paris. D'Arnay was arrested, and
+resisted. It took the entire company to overpower and drag him forth to
+the Bastille.
+
+A bit of unequalled histrionism followed in which Isabelle entered as
+Lucy, with little Nancy Holt as her child. She proceeded to impersonate
+both that heroine and Madame La Farge. It was simpler than it sounds.
+As Lucy she still wore the wedding veil, as Madame La Farge she
+snatched off the veil, wrapped a fur boa around her, seized her mother's
+knitting, and by leaping from one side of the stage to the other, by
+using now a high voice now a low one, the illusion was perfect. The
+chee-ild was rather roughly pushed about during the scene, which was
+highly emotional.
+
+"Be merciful to my husband for the sake of my chee-ild," cried Lucy,
+passionately, pushing Nancy forward.
+
+"Never!" growled Madame La Farge, pushing Nancy back.
+
+"Don't, Isabelle, you hurt," objected Nancy, but quailed into silence at
+Isabelle's terrible look.
+
+The audience was almost hysterical.
+
+The part where Carton rescues D'Arnay and changes places with him,
+important climax though it is in the book, was omitted by the dramatist,
+because it had no opportunity for Isabelle. D'Arnay arrived in Carton's
+clothes, many inches too small for him, and explained to Lucy what had
+occurred. So she and her child and her husband escape.
+
+The curtains were closed now, and the audience stirred as if to rise.
+Isabelle rushed forth.
+
+"Sit still," she commanded, "it isn't over yet."
+
+There was a long wait, and much hammering back on the stage. Then the
+curtains parted again on the big realistic moment of the drama.
+Suspended at back was what at first glance looked to be a wooden window
+frame. It was suspended from above by ropes, which disappeared over the
+gallery which ran around the garage. Under this frame was a wooden
+saw-horse, and beneath that a pail. Only a look sufficed to show that
+this was _La Belle Dame sans Merci_, the guillotine.
+
+A ragged rabble appeared at back, shouting and shaking fists. Then--led
+forward by D'Arnay and the able Margie who had been Dr. Manet, Lorry,
+and the Judge--came the blind-folded figure of the hero, Carton. They
+led him to the foot of that terrible machine of destruction, and after
+several vain promptings from the gallery above, Carton cried in a loud,
+manly voice:
+
+"It's a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a
+far, far better rest I go to, than I have ever known."
+
+Then he laid his noble head on the saw horse, and _bing!_ went the
+window frame down on his neck.
+
+"Gosh!" yelled Carton, just as it struck; and then no more.
+
+"Good Lord! Tommy!" cried his mother excitedly from the audience. "I
+think she's killed him."
+
+"He's all right," cried Isabelle from the gallery. "There wasn't any
+knife in it--it couldn't hurt him much, unless it just broke his neck."
+
+Carton sat up and lifted a red and angry face toward her.
+
+"It just about did break my neck, you big nut!" he cried, feeling
+himself, gently. "I told you that darned thing wouldn't work."
+
+"Draw the curtain," hissed Isabelle fiercely, sensing that the shouts of
+the audience were too abandoned to be complimentary.
+
+The curtains were hitched shut, and she looked over the balustrade on
+to the group below. Wally was beating Christiansen on the back, and Max
+was laughing hysterically. Mrs. Page, whose stupid maternal plans had
+nearly ruined the climax, was now panting for breath.
+
+Isabelle, even while she was delighted with their applause, despised
+them. Had they no feeling for the noble tragedy of Carton? Of course,
+Tommy Page, the fool----just then she caught Martin Christiansen's eye.
+He held up his hands to her, clapping, and bowing and throwing kisses.
+He rushed to the garden, and came back with a huge sunflower which he
+tossed to her, calling: "Author!"
+
+After many and prolonged calls, Isabelle came modestly forth.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "I think Mr. Charles Dickens is dead; if he is, I
+will thank you for him."
+
+"Company! Company!" shouted the parents and relatives. Isabelle felt
+this to be bad discipline for the actors, but after a moment's
+hesitation, she led them all forth.
+
+Martin Christiansen was the first to reach her side. With a low bow he
+indicated the sunflower which she carried.
+
+"My flower!" he murmured tenderly. "Isabelle, I've seen them all,
+Bernhardt, Duse, Fiske, but I've never seen any acting that could be
+compared with yours!"
+
+It was that supreme moment which made up to Isabelle for everything else.
+She knew then the joy of appreciation--knew that Martin Christiansen was a
+finer soul, and akin unto her own!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER EIGHT
+
+
+Isabelle's début as dramatist and actress was much discussed and laughed
+over in the colony. Her pranks had long been a favourite topic, but this
+last one marked her as a real personality.
+
+"Isabelle," Martin Christiansen said to her, a day or so after the
+performance, "you gave me so much pleasure with your interpretation of
+Mr. Dickens's work, that I want to do something for your pleasure."
+
+"Do you?" said Isabelle, enthusiastically.
+
+"Theatrical stars are so temperamental, I scarcely know what to suggest.
+What does a leading lady and producer like to do in her moments of idle
+ease?"
+
+It was a great opportunity, and Isabelle considered it at length.
+
+"I should like to go bathing on the club beach, and have lunch
+afterwards on the club porch."
+
+"Most reasonable of Leading Ladies, what day would suit you best?"
+
+"To-morrow"--promptly.
+
+"Good. Shall we say at eleven? I will give myself the honour of coming
+for you."
+
+"You ask Max to let me go, will you?"
+
+"With pleasure. Shall we ask the other members of your company, too?
+Does a star permit the company to eat below the salt?"
+
+"Oh no, don't let's have them--just you and me."
+
+"Most flattering. I would prefer that."
+
+"You won't ask the Wallys?"
+
+"You refer to your parents?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"This is your party--you may ask the guests," he laughed.
+
+So it was decided, and Christiansen broke the news to her mother.
+
+"I think she should have a chaperon. You might ask me."
+
+"She was very explicit that the party was to be a tête-à-tête."
+
+"She'd never ask me," laughed her mother.
+
+"Aren't you friendly?"--curiously.
+
+"Oh, not at all."
+
+The next morning Max honoured Miss Watts and Isabelle with an unexpected
+call.
+
+"What is she going to wear, Miss Watts?" she inquired.
+
+"I'm going to wear my riding clothes," announced Isabelle.
+
+"How ridiculous! You're going in a motor, not on a horse."
+
+"I don't care. I look better in my riding clothes."
+
+"You'll put on a white organdie frock and a big hat."
+
+"I won't! I hate those girl-things! They look silly on me."
+
+"All children of your age wear white dresses and pink sashes, Isabelle,"
+interpolated Miss Watts.
+
+"Well, I'm not a pink-sash child!" quoth Isabelle, with one of her flashes
+of insight.
+
+"Oh, well, Miss Watts, let her go in her riding boots. If she wants to
+make a laughing-stock of herself, let her! Poor Mr. Christiansen will be
+sorry he ever asked her!" said Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Very well. I'll wear a white linen dress, with a black belt, and my
+black hat," announced the girl.
+
+"Chaste, but not gaudy," laughed her mother, as she sauntered from the
+room.
+
+When she was finally dressed Isabelle walked to a long mirror and
+surveyed herself at length. Her slim, pretty legs in their black silk
+stockings caught her eye.
+
+"Don't you think I have nice legs?" she inquired of Miss Watts.
+
+"Um--rather. They are serviceable at least."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The party was a marked success. A great many people were bathing, which
+always made it exciting. They went out to the raft and Christiansen and
+some other men took turns in throwing her off. It was perfect for
+Isabelle. Then, afterward, all the tables were full on the club veranda,
+when Mr. Christiansen led his guest to a two-chair table, marked
+"RESERVED." Everybody smiled and nodded at them. She saw Wally and Max
+cross the room grinning at her. But she bore herself with great dignity,
+and it seemed to her that life held nothing more, when Christiansen
+seated her. There was a tiny, old-fashioned bouquet at her plate.
+
+"Is this for me?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes. My offering on the day of your triumph was so inadequate, I wanted
+to do better to-day. By the way, I ordered the lunch. I trust you do not
+mind."
+
+"Oh, no. That's all right," she replied graciously.
+
+"It seems to me you are looking very fine to-day."
+
+She looked at him gravely.
+
+"I had an awful time about my clothes," she confessed. "Max wanted me to
+wear a party dress and a sweety hat----"
+
+"What is a sweety hat?" he inquired with interest.
+
+"Oh, you know the kind--floppy, with cherries on it, and everybody says:
+'Oh, isn't she sweet?'"
+
+Her host smiled.
+
+"You object to being thought sweet?"
+
+"Yes. I'm not that kind of a child."
+
+"What kind of a child are you, Isabelle?"
+
+"I'm plain, but I've got a great line of talk," was her unexpected
+answer.
+
+"A witty tongue is worth all the pretty faces in the world," laughed
+Christiansen. "But I wouldn't call you so plain."
+
+"I look very well in my riding clothes."
+
+"Do you?"
+
+"Have you seen me in them?"
+
+"No, I regret to say."
+
+"Well, you must."
+
+"Thank you. I take it that you did not accept your mother's advice upon
+your costume?"
+
+"Oh, no. I never do. Parents have such silly ideas, don't you think?"
+
+"I suppose they do, poor things."
+
+"You have to have them, of course"--politely.
+
+"In this badly arranged world," he admitted.
+
+"So many people are having babies this summer," she remarked.
+
+"Are they, indeed?"
+
+"Oh, yes. The Hunters and the Reillys, both have them."
+
+"Do I know the Reillys?"
+
+"He is the gardener at The Beeches. Patsy is my best friend."
+
+"Is he a member of your company?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He was away when we did 'The Tale of Two Cities.' He speaks
+rather Irishly, but he's a good actor."
+
+"Your leading man seemed to have a comedy talent."
+
+"Tommy Page? He's a terrible fool, but we had to have him. There never
+are enough boys to go round for the parts."
+
+"So often happens in summer resorts," he agreed. "Why not have a company
+of Amazons and disdain the weaker sex?"
+
+"You mean all girls?"
+
+"The Amazons were, you know."
+
+"They fuss so, and get mad. They always want to play the best parts.
+With boys, you can just _settle_ them."
+
+"You nearly settled poor Tommy Page on the guillotine," he laughed.
+
+"He nearly spoiled everything, the poor coward. He couldn't stand a
+little pain."
+
+"Peculiar to our sex, Isabelle; not Tommy's fault, strictly speaking."
+
+"He'll never get another good part," she said firmly.
+
+They were just finishing their ice cream, chatting amiably, when Wally
+came to their table.
+
+"Hello," he remarked.
+
+Isabelle bowed.
+
+"Hope I don't interrupt?" he added.
+
+"Not at all. Won't you sit down?"
+
+"No, thanks. Just ran over to say that we'll take the kid off your hands
+after lunch."
+
+"Oh, don't bother----"
+
+"Certainly we will. The car is going back in ten minutes with Max, and
+she can go along."
+
+Isabelle could have cried with rage. As it was she swallowed hard, and
+when Christiansen said: "Is that agreeable to you, Isabelle?" she nodded
+assent, but the look she cast at Wally might have assassinated him. He,
+blissfully unaware of it, sauntered away.
+
+"Don't hurry. Wouldn't you like some more ice cream?" her host
+suggested.
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+She did not really want it, but it might serve to delay the hated
+departure. The car might go without her, and Christiansen would then
+take her home. She dawdled over the second ice cream, chatting
+feverishly to prevent his suspecting her plan. But the end came, as the
+end needs must, and on the veranda they found her mother waiting.
+
+"If she has been eating all this time, you must be bankrupt," she
+laughed as they joined her.
+
+"Our conversation absorbed considerable time, didn't it, Isabelle?"
+
+"Yes"--gravely.
+
+"Did you behave yourself?" inquired her mother.
+
+"Perfectly," Christiansen hastened to say.
+
+"Well, make your manners and get into the car," ordered her parent.
+
+Christiansen leaned over her hand gallantly.
+
+"Thank you for giving me so much pleasure," he said in a confidential
+tone.
+
+"Thank you. I loved it," she whispered ardently.
+
+On the way home her mother glanced at her.
+
+"Have a good time?"
+
+"You and Wally spoiled it!"--hotly.
+
+"What did we do?"
+
+"Treating me like a infunt!"
+
+"Which you are," retorted her mother.
+
+Later, in talking it over with Miss Watts, Isabelle said:
+
+"Mr. Christiansen is my ideal. He thinks he would not call me very
+plain," she added. Then, "Miss Watts, what is an Amazon?"
+
+"The Amazon is a river."
+
+"But he said a comp'ny of Amazons."
+
+"Oh, they were women warriors," instructed the teacher, and expounded
+the subject at some length.
+
+"What did they wear?" demanded Isabelle.
+
+"We'll look up some pictures of them and find out."
+
+"Riding clothes would do," mused Isabelle.
+
+"Nicely, I should say."
+
+The next day she organized the Isabelle Amazons. They were only four in
+number, counting Nancy Holt, who was under size, but they drilled and
+hunted and rode to battle in the wake of their peerless leader. They met
+imaginary foes. They challenged Tommy Page and Teddy Horton to mortal
+combat, and put them to flight. It was a wonderful game, and Isabelle
+thrilled to think that it was "her ideal" who had suggested it.
+
+"When am I going to entertain Mr. Christiansen?" she asked her mother.
+
+"_You_ entertain him?"
+
+"Certainly. He had me to lunch, didn't he?"
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed.
+
+"I'm having a house party over the week end and he is coming."
+
+"This week end?"
+
+"Yes. Your beau arrives on the noon train Saturday."
+
+"But I am spending the day with the Hunters Saturday," the child
+protested.
+
+"I can't help that," replied her parent.
+
+"May I come down to dinner Saturday night?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Can't I come in with the cocktails, and stay till you go to the dining
+room?"
+
+"Nobody wants you under foot."
+
+"He's my friend just as much as he is yours!" blazed Isabelle.
+
+"You can see him at tea."
+
+"With everybody around? I have something private to tell him."
+
+"What, pray?"
+
+"About Amazons."
+
+"Well, we'll not have Amazons with the cocktails, I can tell you that,"
+said her mother with finality.
+
+Isabelle brooded over the matter until the end of the week. She tried to
+get out of the day with Margie Hunter, but Mrs. Bryce was glad to be rid
+of her and forced her to go. She ordered Miss Watts not to go after her
+until half past five, when tea would be safely over.
+
+Isabelle composed a note of explanation and left it on the bureau in the
+room which Christiansen was to occupy.
+
+    DEAR FRIEND:
+      Because of others, and Margie Hunter's mother I cannot meet you
+    at the station. I have to spend the day with old Margie Hunter.
+    I have organized the Amazons, as you said, and we are strong and
+    true, in riding breeches. I have a plan, but don't tell Max.
+                                  Your loving friend,
+                                                         ISABELLE BRYCE.
+
+She forgot her troubles somewhat at the Hunters'. All the Amazons were
+there, as well as Margie's brother, Herbert, an elderly person of
+twelve, with some of his friends. They treated the girls with great
+scorn until Isabelle told them the story of the persecutions she endured
+at home, in order to be an Amazon. It featured imprisonment in a tower
+room, on a diet of bread and water, branding irons and flogging with a
+buckled strap. They formed a delighted circle about her, and urged her
+on.
+
+"Some little liar, that kid!" exclaimed Herbert. "_Then_ what did you
+do?"
+
+The big boys followed her about all day, to the exclusion of the other
+Amazons, who took refuge in chanting derogatory remarks, such as:
+
+"Herbie Hunter is stuck on Isabelle!"
+
+When 5:30 arrived and with it, Miss Watts, Isabelle departed with a
+feeling of a day well spent. She turned her thoughts to the next event.
+They had a puncture on the way, and the terrace and halls were deserted
+when they arrived home. Miss Watts hurried her off to the schoolroom,
+for supper, and urged her to take her bath and go to bed after her
+strenuous day. The child was docility itself.
+
+While she was at supper a note was brought to her. It was from
+Christiansen. She read:
+
+    MY DEAR ISABELLE:
+      You cannot imagine what a pleasant welcome your note gave me. I
+    am thrilled to know that I am under the roof with a real Amazon,
+    and I live in the expectation of seeing you "strong and true in
+    riding breeches."
+                                  Your devoted admirer,
+                                                    MARTIN CHRISTIANSEN.
+
+An idea was born at that moment! When Miss Watts went to carry the
+supper tray downstairs, because the maids were busy, Isabelle hastily
+donned her riding clothes, turned on the bath water to mislead Miss
+Watts on her return, crept down the stairs and out. From the terrace she
+peered into the long drawing room. The French doors leading on to the
+terrace were open wide, and in the softly lighted room she saw the
+house-party guests assembling. They straggled in, one by one. Isabelle's
+eyes brightened at Christiansen's big boom of laughter, and she admired
+his broad shoulders, as he leaned on the mantelpiece at the far end.
+
+She flew to the stables, crept in at the back, led out the Peruvian
+horse, saddled, mounted him, and kicked him gently in the flanks. Up and
+onto the terrace she guided him, just as indoors, Matthews arrived with
+the cocktails.
+
+In through the open windows rode Isabelle, and slowly down the long
+drawing room. Everybody gasped.
+
+"Isabelle Bryce!" cried her mother.
+
+"Martin," she said eagerly, "this is how I look as an Amazon!"
+
+It was part of the cruel fate that dogged her, that at this supreme
+moment the Peruvian horse slipped on a rug on which Matthews happened to
+be standing, whereupon they all went down together, pouring a generous
+libation of cocktails at Christiansen's feet!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER NINE
+
+
+Poor Isabelle languished in disgrace in her own room for the two days of
+her mother's house party, as a result of her Amazonian entrance to the
+dinner. Martin Christiansen pleaded her case, took the blame upon
+himself; the rest of the party laughed heartily over the episode and
+demanded more Isabelle, but Max remained adamant and refused to release
+the prisoner.
+
+Wally visited his daughter on Sunday, carrying a note from Christiansen.
+He expected to find her raging at her confinement, but, instead, she was
+curled up in a chair with a book on her lap, and he had to speak to her
+twice before she heard him.
+
+"Hello, Wally," she said, unenthusiastically.
+
+"Hello. How are you getting on?"
+
+"Fine."
+
+"Pity you have to be shut up this nice day."
+
+"I like it."
+
+He grinned derisively.
+
+"I do--honust."
+
+"What was your idea of coming into the drawing room on a horse, anyhow?"
+
+"I wanted to show Mr. Christiansen something. He understood it all
+right."
+
+"Made your mother hopping."
+
+"Oh, well, she's always hopping. Why didn't you ask Mr. Christiansen
+up?"
+
+"Against orders. No one admitted. He sent a note," he added, handing it
+over.
+
+Isabelle read:
+
+    DEAR CAPTIVE ISABELLE:
+      Do you languish in your dungeon cell? Your true knight points an
+    arrow with this missive, and shoots it in at your window. (I
+    trust your father will not resent this poetic license.) I was
+    thrilled at the sight of you as an Amazon, and I agree about the
+    riding breeches!
+                                  Yours eternally,
+                                                    CHRISTIANSEN-KNIGHT.
+
+"What's poetic license?" she asked Wally.
+
+"Poetic license? Why--it's some kind of license poets get, I suppose."
+
+"Like a dog license, or a chauffeur's?"
+
+"Well, something like that. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothing."
+
+"What's the book?"
+
+"'Idylls of the King.'"
+
+"Good?"
+
+"Great. I'm going to give it in my theatre."
+
+"Playing all the parts yourself?" he teased.
+
+"All the important ones," she answered, seriously.
+
+"Shall I tell your mother that you are enjoying yourself?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'll toddle along now, I guess."
+
+"Wait a minute. I have to answer him."
+
+"Hurry up about it then."
+
+Wally took up her abandoned book, while she went to her desk to compose.
+
+    Dearest Knight:
+      I languish a little, but not much. I'm writing a play out of
+    "Idylls of the King." I wish you would be Launcelot, Tommy Page
+    could be Merlin. I knew you would understand about the Amazon
+    and horse. I'm glad you liked the . . .
+
+"How do you spell breeches, Wally?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"_Breeches._"
+
+"B-r-e-e-c-h-e-s. What are you saying about them?" he inquired, coming
+to look over her shoulder.
+
+"This is private," she said, and wrote:
+
+    . . . breeches. Wally did not mind your license. He thought you
+    ought to have it. The police are so crooel.
+                                  Your loving friend,
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+She folded and addressed it carefully.
+
+"Here it is."
+
+"What do I get for running the blockade for you like this?" he inquired.
+
+"Much obliged, Wally," she answered, returning to her chair and her
+book.
+
+"You don't appreciate me!" he protested.
+
+"Yes, I do, Wally. I like you the best of all my parents."
+
+Upon her subsequent release, Isabelle turned her entire attention to a
+continuous presentation of the "Idylls." Every day the story progressed,
+and it would have occupied her abilities for some time, save for an
+accident.
+
+The company, including Tommy Page and Teddy Horton, had gathered at
+Margie Hunter's, where there was a swimming pool. Isabelle planned to
+stage a scene with herself as "Elaine, the fair, the beautiful,"
+floating in the Hunters' canoe, laboriously carried up from the shore by
+the entire company.
+
+They launched the craft, and laid out Elaine, with flowers about her,
+hastily plucked from the garden, and the play was all ready to go on,
+when Herbert's crowd came by, on the way to a baseball match. At the
+arresting sight of the Lily Maid of Astelot, they halted and demanded
+explanations. These were received with exclamations of derision and
+delight, so that the incensed leading lady rose from her barge, landed,
+and pursued them with the canoe paddle. They gave her a race to the
+baseball diamond, where they disarmed her by force, and forgot her.
+
+She sat down and watched their preparations. She heard their mighty
+oaths against the ninth man of the team, who hadn't "showed up." She
+offered to play, but they jeered at the idea. Herbert Hunter urged her
+acceptance as a sub, saying that they could throw her out when the
+regular fellow came.
+
+The game was new to Isabelle but she concentrated fiercely upon Herbert
+Hunter's orders. By happy accident when she came to bat, she shut her
+eyes, fanned the air, and knocked a home run. She sped around the bases
+like a "greased rabbit" as Herbert said. When it came to pitching, she
+did not star.
+
+"But she's got a loose arm; she could learn all right," her champion
+remarked.
+
+It was the proudest compliment of her life. The deserted "Idylls of the
+King" company came and sat at a safe distance and watched her,
+wide-eyed. Tommy Page rushed forward, shouting:
+
+"Let me play, Herbert."
+
+"Aw, get out of here, kid. We don't want any babies!" was the brief
+reply.
+
+"Isabelle's a baby!" howled Tommy.
+
+Now Isabelle happened to be toying with a bat when Tommy made this
+disparaging remark threatening to topple her off the dizzy height she
+had attained. She saw red! She made an infuriated rush upon him, and
+brought the bat down on his offending head. Tommy crumpled up like a
+paper doll. There was an awful moment of silence.
+
+"She's killed him," one of the boys whispered.
+
+Herbert tried to stand Tommy up, but his legs folded under him and his
+head fell back, so they laid him down again. Isabelle stood, rooted to
+the ground. Her terror had frozen her.
+
+"I'll call mama," cried Margie Hunter.
+
+"No, you won't. We must keep it from the police!" ordered her brother.
+
+A shudder went through Isabelle.
+
+"But if he's _dead_?" protested Teddy Horton.
+
+"Let's pour some water on him," suggested somebody.
+
+They all ran to get it, all except Herbert and Isabelle. He noted the
+anguish of her set face.
+
+"Never mind, Isabelle; maybe he's only a little bit dead," he comforted
+her.
+
+"Will we have to bury him?" she asked, through chattering teeth.
+
+"I suppose so--sometime."
+
+The others returned with a pail of water. They were for dumping it in
+one deluge upon poor Tommy, but Herbert prevented their drowning him.
+
+"That isn't the way, you nuts! You dribble it on him. Here, give it to
+me."
+
+He knelt over Tommy and poured a slow stream of cold water on his face
+and down his neck. When this had no effect he continued the stream over
+his body, clad in linen clothes, much as one waters a flower bed. The
+children held their breath and watched. Signs of returning life were
+visible. As the cold shower struck the pit of his stomach, one knee
+hitched. Encouraged, Herbert spilt the last pint in his upturned face.
+It contorted, he choked, gasped, yelled defiantly:
+
+"Mmmm-bah-what ye doin'?"
+
+Margie Hunter knelt at his head.
+
+"You aren't dead, are you, Tommy?"
+
+"I'm all wet," he exclaimed, irritably.
+
+Isabelle still stood on the spot where she had struck the blow. Her face
+was set and white.
+
+"I guess we better get him in the house now," Herbert advised.
+
+"What will we tell them?" Margie asked.
+
+Herbert looked at Isabelle, then he swept them all with a chieftain's
+glance, and remarked:
+
+"Tommy fell into the pool, an' nearly drownded himself. Get me?"
+
+They nodded.
+
+"Make a stretcher with crossed hands."
+
+His men obeyed.
+
+"Now, you girls, move him onto our hands."
+
+They all worked except Isabelle, who never moved.
+
+"Quit. I want to walk," said Tommy.
+
+"All right, Tommy. You fell into the pool."
+
+"I did not," said Tommy.
+
+"Yes, you did, and if you leave it to us, we'll square it so you won't
+get licked," Herbert promised.
+
+The stretcher men rose and bore the hero off toward the house, followed
+by the children, all except Isabelle. Her breath came in agonized gasps.
+As they disappeared she threw herself down on her face and let her
+nerves have full sway. She did not cry tears, but her body shook in a
+nervous storm of excitement, and misery. She did not hear the swift feet
+that approached, she scarcely heard Herbert's embarrassed voice saying:
+
+"Say, Isabelle, it's all right. The chambermaid put him to bed and
+telephoned his mother to send him some clothes."
+
+She raised her tragic face to him.
+
+"Will the police take me?" she whispered.
+
+Without meaning to do so at all, Herbert dropped down beside her.
+
+"You didn't kill him. He's all right," he repeated.
+
+Then as a nervous tremor shook her body, he patted her, awkwardly.
+
+"You're all right, Isabelle, it was just an accident," he comforted
+her.
+
+She shook her head, and the tears came. Herbert leaned over and planted
+a kiss under her right ear. She stopped crying. He did not know what
+more to say, so he just sat by. In that half hour of self-accusation, of
+reaction from terror, of the consciousness of the sympathy of a friend
+who had saved her from the police, Isabelle closed the chapter of
+childhood and stepped over into young girlhood.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TEN
+
+
+During the next few years of Isabelle's life she was more of a trial to
+her household than ever before, if such a thing were possible. She
+overplayed the tomboy, just as she did every rôle she essayed.
+
+From the moment Herbert Hunter came to her rescue in the affair of Tommy
+Page, he was exalted to the highest pedestal in her temple of worship.
+Boys knew what loyalty meant. Her hero had forced all the witnesses on
+that occasion to keep absolute silence about it--with police, arrest,
+and prison terms as alternatives. That he, "an older boy," should
+condescend to champion her cause was a triumph for our heroine.
+
+She scorned girls, she endured only the society of males from this time
+on. She could scarcely be forced into any costume but her riding
+clothes. She applied herself to sports until she played better than most
+boys. By disguising this fact, and pretending to be a mere novice, she
+was admitted to their games.
+
+Herbert accepted her as Man Friday with considerable reluctance, but she
+made him feel that her very gratitude gave her a sort of hold on him.
+She was very useful, if you knew how to handle her; and sheer loss, if
+you did not. She abhorred authority. If you told her she must do a
+thing, she stubbornly refused. If you asked it as a favour, it was done
+instantly. If you dared her to do a thing, nothing could stop her. She
+was appallingly indifferent to danger. She terrified the more timid
+souls in Herbert's crowd. But aside from the fact that she was good at
+their games, her main contribution was the original things she thought
+up for them to do.
+
+She had, at fourteen, a fair acquaintance with American history, and she
+devised rare amusements, based on the primitive life of our pioneer
+forefathers. These games lasted for weeks. Bands of Indians preyed on
+the settlers; the settlers sent messengers to the tribal chiefs. There
+were periods of parleying, smoking of the peace pipe; there were war
+dances and uprisings.
+
+The scene might run like this. The ship which was bringing the pilgrims,
+was wrecked off the beach, and the passengers took refuge in rowboats
+and canoes, from which they landed upon the unfriendly shores. Red men
+lay in wait for them, lurking behind sand forts. Occasionally when women
+settlers were absolutely necessary, Margie Hunter and the other girls
+were allowed to come along, but for the most part they were ruthlessly
+shut out. Isabelle, as author and stage manager, was indispensable and,
+therefore, safe.
+
+It took much strategy on Isabelle's part to effect her freedom. She
+assured Miss Watts that all the children went daily to play at the
+Hunters', because there was a pool, and "You have the most fun there";
+so when, of an afternoon, Miss Watts accompanied her to the Hunters',
+and stayed chatting with the Hunter governess until it was time to go
+home, her charge was always wonderfully behaved until she was out of
+sight. Then she left the girls and sped off to her true companions.
+Margie threatened to tell on her, but Herbert took the matter in hand,
+and nothing came of the threat.
+
+Of course Max and Wally had no idea of her associations; that was Miss
+Watts' business. Isabelle played with the children of the right set,
+which was all that really mattered. That she swaggered and boasted and
+whistled about the house, these were annoying details, but she had
+always been a pest.
+
+Wally protested once against her hoydenish manners.
+
+"You talk like a jockey, Isabelle. You haven't a grain of feminine
+charm."
+
+"Feminine charm! Ha!" snorted his daughter, with scorn.
+
+"You'd better try to acquire a little. You'll need it," he warned her.
+
+"Need it for what?"
+
+"Need it for your business."
+
+"What is my business?"
+
+"Getting married."
+
+She stared at him with an angry flush mounting her face. She turned and
+mounted the stairs, leaning over to shout as she went, with unmistakable
+emphasis:
+
+        "When you've bats in your belfry that flut,
+        When your _comprenez-vous_ line is cut,
+          When there's nobody home
+          In the top of your dome,
+        Then, your head's not a head; it's a nut!"
+
+Wally swore gently, and gave it up.
+
+Isabelle's life seemed to run in a series of crises. It was always
+mounting toward or descending from a climax. The present summer of her
+fourteenth year was no exception.
+
+The historic American scenes were still highly popular, but Isabelle's
+creative spirit was not yet satisfied. She was preparing the episode of
+John Smith and Pocahontas, to be played by Herbert Hunter and herself as
+principals, when it occurred to her that the scene ought to be played,
+by night, in the woods. She proposed it to Herbert but he scoffed at it.
+They never could manage. How could they get away at night? But Isabelle
+had it all planned.
+
+Her idea was to pick out the spot in the woods, put up the tepees,
+collect the firewood, lay in supplies, and get everything ready in
+advance. Saturday night would be the best one for the encampment,
+because their parents always dined and danced at the club that night, so
+the coast would be clear so far as they were concerned.
+
+"It isn't parents, it's servants that will get in our way," objected
+Herbert.
+
+"If you _think_ how to get by them, Herbert, you can," urged the
+temptress.
+
+"How? Just tell me how I can get past old Mademoiselle when she sits in
+the hall outside my door?"
+
+"Tell her you forgot something downstairs, and then run out."
+
+"Fat chance! She'd give the alarm and they'd all come on the jump."
+
+"Well, if _I_ can get out, I should think _you_ could," she taunted
+him.
+
+"How'd we get back in? Suppose parents got back before we did."
+
+Her inspiration flared like a torch.
+
+"We'd sleep in the tents all night."
+
+"Gee!" said Herbert. This was sheer daring. It captured his imagination.
+He decided to submit it to the others. A council was called. They in
+turn were struck dumb by the idea that they should spend a night in the
+woods, untrammelled by authority.
+
+It took an enormous amount of planning and preparation. The problem of
+the best means of escape for each member was taken up and decided upon.
+The hour for meeting, and the place, were named. Governesses as a rule
+had their dinners early, with the children. Later, each boy was to
+complain of weariness or headache and go directly to bed. At nine
+o'clock they would make a getaway and meet at a certain spot, centrally
+located for them all. All of them had ponies, so they could ride to the
+trysting place. Blankets must be brought by each camper, and it was
+agreed that they would sleep in their clothes.
+
+The day came. As the idea was to be kept secret from all girls, Isabelle
+had some trouble managing not even to see Margie Hunter, with whom she
+was, ostensibly, to spend the day. She induced Wally to drop her at the
+Hunters' on the way to the club.
+
+The boys were hard at work. They greeted her casually, as was their
+habit. It was the way they kept up the bluff to themselves that they
+had no use for girls. Isabelle was satisfied with their manners. She
+knew in her own mind that she was the brains of the whole concern, so
+why cavil at their bluff, male ways?
+
+They worked like beavers all day long. They went without any luncheon.
+They lugged out the tents and set them up. They made beds of boughs.
+They laid fires ready for the torch. They cached the grub in a hollow
+tree out of the way of prowling creatures. They carried out pails of
+drinking water, and borrowed the kitchen utensils from Margie's
+playhouse. It was late afternoon when they limped wearily back to the
+Hunters' in search of food.
+
+"Mother was awf'ly mad at you, Isabelle, because you kept luncheon
+waiting," said Margie, snippily. "Where have you been?"
+
+"Oh, we were playing, and we thought we'd go without any lunch. I hope
+there's tea, though," she added.
+
+There was; and they put away quantities of bread and butter, with jam,
+and lemonade, which infuriated the cook, who had to supply the demand.
+They parted, later, with fervent farewells, _sotto-voce_ remarks, and
+mysterious signs.
+
+At home, Isabelle got ready for her supper without being told, and sat
+quietly with a book until she was called. A close observer might have
+noted that she never turned a leaf, that when a motor chugged off
+bearing her parents, she was seen to smile and sigh.
+
+After supper, she complained of utter weariness and went to bed. Miss
+Watts looked in at half past eight; Isabelle was breathing evenly. A
+few moments later, she heard the governess close the door between their
+two rooms. Immediately she got up, dropped her night gown, worn over her
+riding clothes, and slipped out. A moment later she was in the stable,
+getting a saddle on her horse, tying her blanket to the horn. She
+managed her exit without interference, because Saturday night there were
+"doin's" among the servants.
+
+Once on the road, she let the pony run. She had never been out alone at
+night before. It was scary, she admitted to herself. Once an automobile,
+on the way to the club with somebody's parents, caused her to dash off
+the road into the underbrush. Finally she reached the meeting place, and
+found two scared boys ahead of her. Shortly, the others arrived. There
+were no signs of hilarity over this adventure, they were all solemn and
+glum. Some of them were in Indian garb, with tomahawks; others in
+boy-scout hats, as pilgrims.
+
+When they were all gathered they moved in a body to the camp. It was
+darker than pitch in the woods, so they had to lead the ponies, and they
+stumbled over tree trunks, and logs. Unseen things scuttled away
+underfoot, and terror began to spread like measles.
+
+"Get the fire lighted, then we can see all right," said Isabelle the
+dauntless.
+
+They managed that finally and peered about them, as the weird shadows
+danced and made fantastic shapes.
+
+"Let's get the grub and eat," said Herbert.
+
+"Not yet, not till we do the play," objected Isabelle. "Somebody bind up
+John Smith and the rest sit round the place where we're going to
+execution him. The Indians can lurk----"
+
+"Say, I ain't goin' to lurk in the dark, out there," protested a brave,
+peering into the blackness.
+
+"_I_ am!" said Isabelle, marching upon unseen terrors among the trees.
+
+"If you're going to let a _girl_ dare you!" cried Herbert, secretly glad
+that his rôle required no heroic exposure.
+
+The Indians reluctantly followed Isabelle Pocahontas into the shadows,
+stepping high, and jumping back with exclamations now and then.
+
+The chopping block was brought out where John Smith's head was to rest,
+then Pocahontas crept through into the firelight and the play was begun,
+but there was no real spirit in the affair. Isabelle felt this; so, to
+create a new interest, she urged John Smith to break bread with the
+Indians after he had been saved by her, and released. They hauled out
+the food, slightly the worse for squirrels; they cooked the bacon,
+eating it nearly raw, with hunks of bread. They had a thermos bottle of
+cold tea which they referred to as "rum." There were plenty of doughnuts
+and a bakery pie.
+
+The repast roused their spirits considerably. After it was finished,
+John Smith invited the Indians to spend the night, and everybody agreed
+to turn in. There was an obvious reluctance on the part of some to enter
+the dark tents. Things unseen rattled inside.
+
+"Say! why not roll up in our blankets around the fire?" said doughty
+John Smith, the Pilgrim's pride.
+
+"Good boy--that's the boy," agreed the Indians.
+
+So they curled up in a circle inside their covers, as near the blaze as
+they could lie, wide-eyed and on the watch. Each one secretly longed for
+his bed at home, and excoriated Isabelle with her devil's gift of
+invention. But after a while the hard labour of the day began to tell,
+and as the fire grew fainter, one by one they dropped asleep, and the
+shadows closed in upon them completely.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER ELEVEN
+
+
+At the club the Saturday night hilarity was at its height. The
+Country-Club set took themselves very seriously--at least as seriously
+as they took anything. They conceived themselves as a group, somehow set
+apart. They lived idle, luxurious lives. Like the lily they toiled not,
+which of itself was an obvious mark of distinction in a work-a-day
+world.
+
+In the winter they "played together" in town, at Palm Beach, or in
+California. In the summer they played together on yachts, or at the
+Country Club of "the colony." They hedged themselves in with a thick
+wall of prejudice against the newcomer, the outsider. Like the Labour
+Union, they valiantly fought the "open-shop" idea!
+
+Now, since their superiority--real or imagined--lay in the triumph of
+artifice over Nature; or, more brutally, since it lay in money rather
+than in wit; the natural recourse of the elect was to various forms of
+spirituous assistance. They never could have endured each other twelve
+months in the year without it. So, on Saturday nights a sufficient
+number of cocktails was served to ensure a certain hilarity, and, in
+case this should wear off, the bar worked steadily during the evening.
+So it was on the Saturday night in question, and the party was "going"
+very well.
+
+Wally was dancing with Nancy Horton, when Billy, her husband, stopped
+them.
+
+"Look here, Nance, the butler just telephoned that Teddy isn't in his
+bed, and they can't find him."
+
+"Rubbish! He's somewhere about. Come on, Wally."
+
+"No. Hold on a minute. They phoned the Hunters to see if he was there,
+and they discovered that Herbert is missing."
+
+"The little beasts! Where do you suppose they are? Do the Hunters know
+it?"
+
+"The servants were going to telephone them."
+
+"What do you want me to do?"--shortly.
+
+"I think we ought to go home----"
+
+"I will not! You go, if you like, and give him a good thrashing when you
+find him. Come on, Wally."
+
+She whirled away with Wally, who said:
+
+"Thank the Lord, my kid is a girl!"
+
+But, one by one, parents were called by the 'phone, until a sufficient
+number of fathers had left to make the affair one-sided. So it broke up,
+with loud protests on the part of the women against the tyranny of
+children, and the slavery of parenthood.
+
+Max grumbled all the way home, and Wally slept. But once indoors, he
+surreptitiously crept to Isabelle's door and tiptoed in. Her nightie was
+a heap by her bed, the bed crumpled and empty. He hurried to Miss
+Watts's door and roused her.
+
+"Miss Watts, where is Isabelle?" he demanded.
+
+"In bed, Mr. Bryce."
+
+"No, she isn't. I've looked."
+
+"But she went to bed at half past eight. I saw her asleep myself. Just
+a minute, please."
+
+He heard her pattering about. He went downstairs and summoned Matthews.
+He knew nothing. He had been on duty all evening, but he had not seen
+her. Wally ordered him to question all the servants. Miss Watts, greatly
+excited, appeared in a bathrobe. A telephone call to the Hunters' house
+brought the reply that Mr. Hunter and the servants were out looking,
+now. Wally went up to his wife's room. She was in bed.
+
+"Isabelle's gone," he said.
+
+"Gone where?" she asked, sitting up.
+
+"I don't know. With the others, I suppose."
+
+"Where is Watts? She is responsible for Isabelle."
+
+"She saw her asleep in bed at eight thirty. Miss Watts put out her light
+at nine. The kid got away somehow."
+
+"Watts had no business going to bed. Where were the other servants?"
+
+"They were on duty and saw nothing."
+
+"On duty, in the kitchen, having skylarks!"
+
+"No matter. The thing is what to do now?"
+
+"Go to bed. She'll turn up."
+
+"Don't be a fool! I'll take a car and join the searching party. Nobody
+knows what those kids are up to."
+
+"All right; go ahead. But this time, Wally Bryce, I punish her."
+
+He hurried out, and got into a fast car, with Matthews and Henry, the
+chauffeur, in the back seat. He went like the wind to the Hunters'. No
+news yet, but they informed him that twelve boys were missing.
+
+"My Isabelle is with them," said Wally.
+
+The Hunters' butler look startled.
+
+"My word, sir, she _is_ a limb!" he exclaimed.
+
+On the road Wally met Billy Horton in his car.
+
+"They must be around here somewhere. They couldn't get far. If I don't
+fix that young man of mine!" he threatened.
+
+"My kid is with them," Wally groaned.
+
+"You don't say!" ejaculated Horton.
+
+Just then a streak of light, as from a fire, flared up in the woods, to
+the left, and died out.
+
+"Did you see that?" demanded Wally.
+
+"Yes, looked like----"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, fire in the woods, that was."
+
+"They've set the woods on fire," shouted Wally, and started off full
+speed. Horton followed.
+
+"Keep your eye on the place, you fellows. About here, wasn't it?"
+
+He stopped the car, and they jumped out. Henry carried a bunghole light
+and they penetrated the woods, single file, shouting as they went. No
+answer came, but they kept on. Before they had gone very far, a pony
+whinnied.
+
+"Hear that? We're coming to something."
+
+They heard motors on the road behind, and shouts in answer to their
+shouts. Other fathers rushed in presently and joined them. Henry stopped
+and halted the entire line.
+
+"Well, I'll be blowed," he said.
+
+He swept the cleared place with his light, and they all crowded
+up behind him. A bed of ashes smouldered, and around it, in deep
+oblivion of well-earned sleep, lay thirteen blanketed braves, a
+trusty weapon--tomahawk or sword--at hand beside each sleeper.
+
+The fathers descended upon them, and with difficulty aroused them to the
+capture. They were led, carried, or dragged to motors, and carted home.
+Isabelle borne between Henry and Matthews scarcely woke at all. In fact,
+when she woke in the morning to Miss Watts's grieved expression, all
+memory of the transfer was gone.
+
+"Oh, Isabelle," said she, "how could you?"
+
+The child struggled with her memories.
+
+"Who found me?"
+
+"Your father."
+
+"Were the others found too?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did they get taken home?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Gee!"
+
+"Is that all you have to say?"
+
+"What are they going to do to me?"
+
+"I don't know, but your parents are very angry."
+
+"I bet they are," grinned the culprit.
+
+"What is to become of you, Isabelle?" inquired Miss Watts, with tragic
+fervour.
+
+Isabelle ate a huge breakfast, and waited cheerfully for her summons to
+judgment. It came at eleven. She went to her mother's room, where that
+lady sat in her bed. Her husband sat by, arms folded, expression stern.
+
+"Hello," said Isabelle.
+
+"Sit down!" her mother ordered, fiercely.
+
+Isabelle sat.
+
+"How did you get out of this house last night?"
+
+"Walked out."
+
+"Where was Miss Watts?"
+
+"Asleep in bed."
+
+"Where were the other servants?"
+
+"At their regular Saturday night party. They call it Club Night."
+
+"When did these boys induce you to go on this disgraceful expedition?"
+
+"They didn't induce me," replied Isabelle. "It was my idea."
+
+"Isabelle Bryce!" her mother burst out. "You asked twelve boys to spend
+the night with you?"
+
+"No, I thought it would be fun to play John Smith, Pocahontas and
+Indians at night, with a fire. So we planned it. Then we thought you
+might get back from the club before we did, and kick up a row, so I said
+why not sleep in the tents, and sneak in at daylight, so you'd never
+know."
+
+"Did you ever hear anything so awful?" Max demanded of Wally.
+
+"I don't think she understands just what it is she has done," he said,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Don't you dare make excuses for her!"
+
+"Don't you know it isn't decent for you to spend the night in the woods,
+with twelve boys?"
+
+"Why not?" asked Isabelle, interested.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Well, why don't you tell her why not?" burst out Wally.
+
+"Don't be vulgar, Wally. Just leave this to me, please."
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"I've tried every way I know to make you act like a decent human being,
+and you won't. Now, there's only one way left."
+
+"Penitentiary?" inquired Isabelle in all earnestness.
+
+"No impudence! You have disgraced yourself thoroughly this time, and us,
+too."
+
+Isabelle turned to her father. She had not the least idea what they were
+hinting at.
+
+"Wally, what's all the row about?" she inquired.
+
+"You've got to explain it to her, I tell you," he repeated.
+
+Mrs. Bryce ignored him.
+
+"I have decided that your punishment this time is to be a severe one,"
+she said sternly. "You are to be sent away to school. We will see if
+that can save you."
+
+"School? Boarding school?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Not a girls' school?"
+
+"I suppose you'd prefer a boys' school?" Max said, sarcastically.
+
+"Yes, I would," her daughter answered, literally.
+
+"There's no use!" exclaimed Mrs. Bryce. "Take her away, Wally. I shall
+decide upon a school--a very strict one--and she shall be sent there
+next month. It is evident Miss Watts cannot cope with her."
+
+Isabelle, somewhat dazed, walked back to the schoolroom. She grasped the
+idea that this time she had exceeded her limit. She had never seen her
+mother so angry, and even Wally was as grave as a judge.
+
+"Why is it wicked for me to play Indian with the boys?" she demanded of
+Miss Watts.
+
+"It isn't playing Indian; it's--little girls can't spend the night in
+the woods with boys," she replied.
+
+"But why not? They were my regular friends."
+
+"Didn't your mother tell you why it is wrong?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I must speak to her, Isabelle, before we discuss it."
+
+It was only the beginning of the revelation of her ignominy. She was not
+allowed to go anywhere or to see her friends. Once when she saw Margie
+Hunter on the road, and waved to her, Margie looked the other way and
+did not wave back. She smuggled off a letter to Herbert and he smuggled
+one to say that he was not allowed to see her, or write to her--that he
+was being sent away to school.
+
+When she questioned Miss Watts she met with pained reticence--no frank
+explanation. The girl felt that she was a prisoner, under sentence for
+something which she could not understand. She turned hither and thither
+in her appeal for help and understanding, and everybody turned aside as
+if she were an outcast. The iron of injustice began to enter her soul.
+She was at the impressionable age, when she felt deeply every injury
+done her. She thought much of Ann Barnes and Martin Christiansen, her
+two friends. They would have understood. They would have answered the
+questions, told her the truth which her mother hinted at yet failed to
+explain. It was a period of bitterness and revolt, of enforced inaction
+and isolation. It was to bear fruit in her whole life, and no one
+guessed it--or cared.
+
+But it so happened that Christiansen, all unknown to her, was to help
+her. He happened to meet Mrs. Bryce, full of maternal anxiety about the
+school question, and he immediately suggested The Hill Top School,
+conducted by some friends of his who were Quakers. They accepted only a
+few children, but they accomplished wonders with them. Max listened and
+took note. He offered to write a letter in Isabelle's behalf. Mrs. Bryce
+accepted this help gratefully, and in the end it was arranged that
+Isabelle was to be sent there. But the little girl knew nothing of this.
+
+Events marched. She was taken to town and a school outfit bought for
+her. She was allowed no word of choice in her things. Max, coldly
+distant, and Miss Watts, nervously conciliatory, accompanied her during
+this ordeal of fitting and ordering. A month earlier, she would have
+worked up a plan of revolt and carried it through, but now, it did not
+seem worth while. Their attitude toward her struck in on her spirit. She
+hated the thought of the school, but she was glad she was going away.
+
+"What's the name of this place they're sending me?" she asked Miss Watts
+one day.
+
+"The Hill Top School."
+
+"Where is it?"
+
+"In Massachusetts. It is a very nice school, and I think you will be
+happy there."
+
+"Won't I? Just!"
+
+Miss Watts frowned. There was a queer streak of cynicism growing in the
+child that gave her pause. She was fond of her, in her way, but she was
+glad that her responsibility for her was soon to cease. She had been
+induced by Mrs. Bryce to deliver Isabelle at the school, as the day of
+her departure fell in horse-show week, and The Beeches was to be full of
+house guests.
+
+It was a ripe, mellow, September day when they left. A day on which
+Isabelle longed to fling herself into the saddle and gallop and gallop
+through the red and yellow world. Instead, for some heinous but
+incomprehensible crime, she was being sent to prison. That was the
+attitude of mind in which she viewed it.
+
+"All right, now, Isabelle; the motor is here. Have you said good-bye to
+your mother?" inquired Miss Watts, all a-flutter.
+
+"Yes," lied Isabelle, and hurried down to the car.
+
+Wally was at the wheel.
+
+"Are you driving us to the station, Wally?" she asked.
+
+"I thought I would," he answered, embarrassed.
+
+She got in and sat beside him. Her attempt at a smile worried him. After
+all, she was just a kid, being bundled off in disgrace. He felt a vague
+regret that he meant so little to her. He wondered if she really loved
+any one. Then her search for "regular parents" came back to haunt him.
+Funny business this, having kids. Not so simple----
+
+"All right, kid?" he asked her, as they waited for the train.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said, with an effort at her old _insouciance_.
+
+"Good-bye," he said jocosely, adding, as the train came in, with an
+effort to avoid any emotion: "Write if you need money."
+
+He kissed her, and she clung to him.
+
+"You're a good old thing, Wally," she said, hoarsely; and then,
+silently, she followed Miss Watts into the train.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER TWELVE
+
+
+The little god of Chance must have sat smiling on his throne when Mrs.
+Wally Bryce decided upon Hill Top School as the spot to which her
+daughter should be banished. She felt that Christiansen's recommendation
+was enough, together with the list of girls who attended it, so she did
+not trouble to visit the place. The few necessary letters which passed
+between herself and Adam Benjamin, the head of the school, were formal
+business communications, in regard to terms, books, equipment, and such
+details. Mr. Benjamin's insistence upon the simplest clothes suited her
+exactly. The girl had to be put somewhere until she could be admitted to
+a fashionable New York finishing school where she had been entered as a
+baby. This Hill Top place would do as a stop gap.
+
+As for Isabelle, in the bitterness of her spirit, her only thought was
+that, whatever the place proved to be, she would hate it.
+
+She and Miss Watts arrived in the afternoon of a perfect autumn day. The
+train was late, so that Miss Watts was forced to hand over her charge to
+Mr. Benjamin, who met them at the station, with only a few minutes' wait
+for her train back to New York.
+
+"I'm sorry not to have taken you to the school, and seen your room,
+Isabelle," she said.
+
+"That's all right."
+
+"We will look after her," Mr. Benjamin said with a genial smile.
+
+Isabelle looked at him again. He was a big man, strong and bronzed, as
+if he lived in the open. When he smiled, his very blue eyes smiled too,
+and many little wrinkles appeared about them, as if his smile sent out
+rays, like the sun. He wore loose, snuff-coloured clothes, and a
+broad-brimmed hat.
+
+Miss Watts's train thundered in. There was a moment of confusion, of
+exhortation to be a good girl, of farewell; and then the train was gone.
+The last member of Isabelle's world had deserted her, and she choked
+back a sob of loneliness, of rebellion. It was all mirrored in her
+tell-tale face. A big strong hand suddenly enclosed her own, and she
+looked up into Mr. Benjamin's wrinkly smile.
+
+"Thee must not feel lonely, little girl," he said, gently. He led her
+away to a wide, low surrey, with two fat dappled horses. Isabelle tried
+to snatch her hand away, but Mr. Benjamin seemed unaware of it.
+
+"If thee will get into the front seat with me, we will put thy trunk in
+the back."
+
+Without any reply she got in. Presently they were off at a good pace,
+through lovely country, mellow in the late afternoon sunshine. Mr.
+Benjamin talked to the horses in a friendly way, but he left Isabelle to
+herself. After a little they were among the hills. The sumac flamed
+everywhere, and bronze oak trees smouldered in the sun. Once Mr.
+Benjamin drew up and pointed to a flower beside the road.
+
+"Does thee see that flower, Isabelle?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"It is very interesting," he mused, and he unfolded the tale of this
+plant. How exacting it was, how its seed germinated in only a certain
+soil, how it bloomed in only certain seasons under special weather
+conditions. Isabelle's quick imagination kindled at the tale. It was
+hard to hate this man, whom she had visualized as her jailer.
+
+"Why do you say 'thee' instead of 'you'?" she asked as her first remark.
+
+"Because I am a Quaker, and we use the Friends' speech."
+
+"What are Quakers?"
+
+He smiled, and explained to her, and as he talked they swung between
+gates into a long tree-bordered drive that climbed and climbed until it
+reached a hill top; and here a low, rambling, many-roomed house spread
+itself pleasantly upon the earth. Some girls were raking leaves and
+waved to them as they passed. The fat horses stopped at the house. Mr.
+Benjamin got out and lifted out the trunk and bag. Just then the door
+opened and Mrs. Benjamin appeared.
+
+"Phoebe, my dear, this is our new child, Isabelle Bryce," he said.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin bent and kissed her.
+
+"Thee is very welcome, Isabelle," she said, taking her hand and leading
+her indoors. A great, broad hall bisected the house. In the living room,
+to the right, a fire sparkled and crackled. The room gave out a feeling
+of friendliness. There were big chairs, student lamps, pleasant colours
+and shadows.
+
+"I hope thee did not get chilled coming up the hill. There is a nip in
+the air these fall nights," Mrs. Benjamin remarked.
+
+"No, I wasn't cold, thank you," Isabelle replied. The last two words
+dragged themselves out in spite of her.
+
+It was as difficult to hate Mrs. Benjamin as it was to hate Mr.
+Benjamin. And the warm big room was nice. But no--she wasn't going to
+give in. She was a rebel and they should find her such!
+
+Just then a girl came into the room. She was younger than Isabelle--ten
+years old, perhaps. She was fair and frail with a discontented little
+face.
+
+"Peggy, this is Isabelle Bryce. This is Peggy Starr, Isabelle. I thought
+thee might show Isabelle her room, Peggy."
+
+The two girls looked at each other.
+
+"All right; come on," said the younger girl, ungraciously.
+
+They mounted the wide stairs to the corridor above, with bedrooms
+opening off on each side. Peggy led the way into a huge room, with many
+windows. It had two beds, two bureaus, two closets.
+
+"I s'pose you're my room mate," Peggy remarked, staring at her.
+
+"Do you sleep here?"
+
+"I slept in another girl's room last night, but I belong here."
+
+"When did you come?"
+
+"Yesterday."
+
+"Like it?"
+
+"No, hate it!"
+
+"So do I," said Isabelle, firmly.
+
+"I cried all night," boasted Peggy.
+
+"I never cry," said Isabelle.
+
+The other girl stared.
+
+"Are there many girls here?"
+
+"You make ten. The rest are raking for a bonfire. Sillies!"
+
+"Didn't they invite you?"
+
+"I can't do rough things like that. I'm delicate."
+
+Isabelle heard shouts of laughter, and hurried to the window. Down below
+in the twilight a crowd of laughing girls was burying a prostrate victim
+under the leaves. They shrieked and cavorted about her. A yellow moon
+hung low over the hills. All at once, clear and high, a bugle call
+arose, and echoed far and near. It was a scene and impression she was
+never to forget.
+
+"What is that?" she demanded of Peggy.
+
+"Time to dress. Mr. Benjamin bugles whenever we have to do anything,"
+complained Peggy.
+
+There was a rush on the stairs, more laughter, questions called and
+answered, doors slammed. A poignant sense of loneliness, of homesickness,
+swept over Isabelle. She turned to Peggy, who sat by.
+
+"I hate it!" she said fiercely.
+
+"So do I. Going to change?"--languidly. "You needn't. Girls don't have
+to, their first night. Just wash and come on."
+
+Isabelle followed her suggestion and presently the two girls went
+downstairs together. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin sat together on a high backed
+settle by the fire. They were enjoying each other's conversation. Mrs.
+Benjamin's face shone as she listened to her husband. It was rather a
+plain face, surmounted by hair parted smoothly in the middle and drawn
+low into a diminutive knot at the back. She wore a queer dress, Isabelle
+thought, and a fine white kerchief was folded across her breast. This
+was her costume always, save on Sunday, when the dress was of silk.
+
+"I hope thee found thy room pleasant, Isabelle," she said as the girls
+entered.
+
+"Yes, thanks."
+
+"Thee has a fine view over the hills," Mr. Benjamin said.
+
+Then the other girls trooped in, and Isabelle was introduced to them. A
+servant announced supper. Mr. Benjamin gave his arm to Mrs. Benjamin,
+and they led the way, followed by the girls, two by two, arm in arm,
+across the hall to the dining room. There was an unexpected moment for
+Isabelle when everybody bowed the head and offered silent grace. The
+supper was plain, but how those girls did eat! Cold meats, baked
+potatoes and apple sauce, and cookies disappeared in quantities. Even
+the rice pudding had to be served twice all round.
+
+There was talk and laughter. No sense of disorder or noise, but it was
+just jolly. Mr. Benjamin at one end of the long table beamed at Mrs.
+Benjamin at the other end. They both played a part in the sprightly
+give-and-take of the children. It was like a happy family. Isabelle was
+silent, taking note of everything. Peggy was sullen.
+
+After supper there was a rush for sweaters.
+
+"Get your coat, Isabelle, and come out. We're going to have a bonfire
+to-night. No lessons until to-morrow," shouted a girl named Agnes.
+
+Isabelle started up to get her coat, but on second thoughts she went
+back for Peggy.
+
+"Oh, I can't do those things, I tell you. I'm too delicate," whined the
+girl.
+
+"It won't hurt thee at all, my dear, if thee wraps up well," said Mrs.
+Benjamin.
+
+"I'm never allowed out in the night air----"
+
+"Get thy sweater and come out, little sister. Thee doesn't know this
+night air," laughed Mr. Benjamin.
+
+So in the end Peggy allowed herself to be persuaded, and went along.
+
+"Silly, spoiled little minx," commented Mr. Benjamin.
+
+"Oh, we'll soon manage her, my dear, but what about this smouldering
+Isabelle with her old eyes?" sighed his wife.
+
+He patted her hand.
+
+"I leave her to thee, my Phoebe."
+
+Outside the moon rode high, the air was crisp and sweet, the silence
+unbroken save for the shouts of the girls. The leaves were piled in a
+huge mound, in a cleared space some distance from the house. They set a
+match to it, and the flames leapt hungry and fierce. The girls formed a
+circle and danced around it, singing. Mr. Benjamin stopped a second on
+his way to the barn, and called a warning about whirling skirts as he
+went on.
+
+The circle broke into dancing pairs. Some one started leap frog.
+Isabelle forgot everything except that she was having a good time. There
+were friendliness and joy and freedom. She drank of them to the full.
+She played wildly, excitedly. She began to lead in the games. Even Peggy
+forgot her rôle and joined in.
+
+The flames were lower now, and with a sudden running leap Isabelle
+jumped over them. Without hesitation the whole line followed--all except
+Peggy, who held back.
+
+"Come on, Peggy, don't be a 'fraid-cat!" shouted Isabelle.
+
+So Peggy made a half-hearted jump and landed in the fire. In a second
+her skirts were ablaze, and the silence of terror struck the girls dumb.
+Isabelle ran at Peggy and dragged her out, she threw her on the ground,
+tearing at her skirt with her bare hands.
+
+"Pile sweaters on her!" she ordered the girls.
+
+They obeyed, and Isabelle threw herself upon the smouldering heap, in an
+effort to quench the fire. Mr. Benjamin came upon them, and the girls
+explained in shrill unison. He lifted Isabelle off; picked Peggy up,
+half unconscious; cut away the still smoking skirt, and carried her into
+the house.
+
+The girls followed, awed and weak from fright. They sat in silence in
+the living room awaiting the report from upstairs. Both the Benjamins
+were up there. There had been no serious damage done. The heavy wool
+shirt had protected her legs, but the shock had played havoc with poor
+Peggy's nerves, and she screamed and cried long after she was rubbed,
+greased, bandaged, and comfortable.
+
+When Mrs. Benjamin finally came downstairs to get some hot milk for her,
+she found the frightened girls still sitting there. She relieved their
+minds at once.
+
+"How did it happen?" she inquired.
+
+They explained how Isabelle jumped the blaze and urged timid Peggy to
+follow.
+
+"Where is Isabelle?" demanded Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+It appeared that nobody knew. In the excitement they had not noticed her
+absence. Should they go and look for her?
+
+"No; I'll find her. Agnes, go to the kitchen and get a glass of hot milk
+and take it to Peggy. The rest of you go to bed as quietly as possible.
+I will find Isabelle," said Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+They tiptoed away as silent as ghosts. Mrs. Benjamin put a heavy coat
+about her shoulders, and went out. The clearing where the bonfire had
+been, lay on a knoll above the house. As she approached it she saw
+silhouetted against the moon a small figure, head bent upon drawn-up
+knees, silent, "lonely as a cloud."
+
+"My dear, thee will take thy death of cold," she said gently, leaning
+over the girl.
+
+She lifted tragic, pitiful eyes to Mrs. Benjamin's.
+
+"Have you come to send me home?"
+
+"No, I've come to take thee to bed,"--simply.
+
+She drew the girl to her feet, put her hand on her shoulder; and
+together, in silence, they approached the house. She led her to the fire
+and chaffed her cold hands.
+
+"You ought to punish me," said Isabelle at last.
+
+"My dear, when any one at Hill Top breaks the rules, or acts wilfully,
+we ask her to punish herself."
+
+Isabelle could scarcely believe her ears.
+
+"I think thee has been sufficiently punished, Isabelle, and now I shall
+give thee a hot lemonade to warm thee up before thee goes to bed," the
+kind voice went on.
+
+Suddenly without warning, Isabelle threw herself on the couch and began
+to sob. Not like a child's easy tears, but like the tortured sobbing of
+a nature long pent up. Mrs. Benjamin said nothing. She sat down on the
+couch, drew the child's head into her lap, and let the spasm spend
+itself.
+
+So it was that Isabelle, who never wept, spent her first evening at Hill
+Top School.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+
+
+The period of adjustment to life at the Hill Top School was a very
+bewildering one to Isabelle. The excitement over Peggy's accident was
+soon past, to that heroine's intense regret. She prolonged her nervous
+prostration as long as possible, and was duly petted and made much of by
+the girls. Isabelle, full of remorse for the trouble she had brought
+upon her room-mate, adopted her as her special charge.
+
+The routine of the school, if you could call it that, began. Mr. and
+Mrs. Benjamin had strange ideas in regard to the training of the young.
+They kept the school small, so that they might not be hampered in their
+experiments, and strangely enough, they drew their pupils largely from
+the families of the rich. When he was asked about this once, Mr.
+Benjamin said:
+
+"It seems to be our mission to teach these little richlings to
+
+        'Ride a cock horse,
+        To Banbury Cross,
+          To see what money _can't_ buy!'
+
+"They get life so crookedly from servants and such," he added. "Phoebe
+and I just try to straighten them out."
+
+The process by which these two rare souls accomplished this straightening
+out was quite their own. There was only one extra teacher, a Frenchwoman
+who came from Boston twice a week. For the rest, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin
+conducted the school, and did all the teaching.
+
+During October and November, and again in late April and May, lessons
+were all out of doors. The whole school studied Botany and Zoology with
+Mr. Benjamin. They wandered over the hills, on the brisk autumn days,
+with their boxes and cases and bottles for specimens. These lessons were
+a series of enchanted tales to Isabelle, of how the life force persists
+in bugs and plants. The whole morning on certain days of the week would
+be devoted to this peripatetic grazing, then note books would be written
+up before lunch.
+
+This function was also a lesson. Certain girls took charge of it each
+day--planned, ordered, prepared and cooked the meal, in the open, over a
+gypsy fire. The girls in charge were limited in expenditure, and there
+was great rivalry among them to find something new and toothsome to make
+in the skillet or the big kettle. Careful accounts were kept by each set
+of managers, and if, at the end of the school term, there was credit
+balance, a special party was given on the savings.
+
+A second committee took charge of serving the meal; a third, of the
+clearing away and dishwashing. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin were always treated
+as guests on these occasions.
+
+Arithmetic was accompanied by instruction in banking. Allowances were
+deposited in a central bank, with elected officers. All money was drawn
+by check. Books were balanced weekly, and penalty imposed upon careless
+financiers.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin conducted the classes in English Literature, and because
+she loved books truly, she led these girls step by step into the realm
+of the best. Shakespeare was studied and loved, and played under the
+trees. Wordsworth and Tennyson and Longfellow read in the open, are very
+different from Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Longfellow parsed indoors.
+Poetry was not a "study" to be pored over in the schoolroom; it was a
+natural beautiful expression of life, sung instead of spoken. So they
+came to our modern poets with interest and understanding, because these
+new poets, forsooth, spoke the language of these children of the
+present.
+
+Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, Victor Hugo, read aloud and discussed;
+these were a treat--no task--here. These great artists were considered
+not only as makers of romance, creators of literature, but also as
+historians of their times. Their books were studied along with the
+history of the countries and the peoples that they described. Then came
+the geography of the places wherein the stories were laid, then a study
+of the social conditions and customs of the periods to which they gave
+expression.
+
+American history was taught by both the Benjamins. It was their hobby.
+Not the sort of history taught in most schools, "fixed up" for the young,
+but the true history of our country--its blunders, its stupidities, its
+triumphs.
+
+So through the whole curriculum, acquiring knowledge was a pleasant
+thing. It was not a matter of being fed with little unrelated chunks of
+information, on this or on that. It was rather being led into a great
+field, where now this part, now that, held your interest, but you never
+lost sight of the whole expanse.
+
+As for play, there were nutting expeditions, hay rides, marshmallow
+roasts, any number of out-of-door joys. It was as nearly a normal life
+as can be reached in these days of ours.
+
+To Isabelle it was unbelievable. Everything they did during the day
+interested her. Her old passion for leadership spurred her on, but now
+it was a spur to excel in legitimate things. Her sense of rebellion was
+laid away, because she liked nearly everything she had to do, and her
+days were so busy that there was no excess vitality to work itself off
+in pranks.
+
+Not that she was a reformed soul--far from it! There were times when she
+balked the duties she liked least, and was gently called upon by Mrs.
+Benjamin to punish herself. After the first amusement of this novelty
+wore off, it became plain to her that the punishment she administered to
+herself was always more severe than any one else would have prescribed.
+Sometimes punishment was decided upon by the community as a whole. By
+degrees the girls all began to realize "the social spirit" for the first
+time in their self-centred, individualistic lives.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin," Isabelle said one day, bursting into the presence of
+that lady, "I feel full of the devil to-day!"
+
+"Dost thou, Isabelle? Dear me! we must think of something to dispossess
+him."
+
+"Better give me something _hard_ to do."
+
+"It is now half past eight. Suppose thee goes down to the big field to
+help Henry pitch hay until ten."
+
+"All right," agreed Isabelle.
+
+"Thee might speak to Mr. Benjamin on thy way out, about the seven devils
+that possess thee," smiled her teacher.
+
+Another influence that was working in the development of the girl was
+the dependent devotion of Peggy Starr. Her young room-mate worshipped
+Isabelle. She began by following her through fire, and she would not
+have stopped at water. What Isabelle did and said and thought was
+Peggy's law.
+
+Now Mrs. Benjamin took hold of the situation at once. She disapproved
+of the school girl "crush." She had a long talk with Isabelle and
+urged her to look after the younger girl, to help her forget her
+"claim" to invalidism, to influence her to normal activity. Isabelle
+accepted the responsibility and felt it deeply. She restrained herself
+from this and that because of Peggy. If she did things, Peggy would do
+them. So again, wise Mrs. Benjamin let her teach herself her first
+lessons in self-control.
+
+"Isabelle," Mr. Benjamin said to her, when she had been at the school
+about two months, "I have a letter from thy father. He says thee does
+not write home."
+
+"I've been busy," Isabelle said, frowning.
+
+"But what does thee do on Sunday afternoons, when the other girls write
+home?"
+
+"I'd rather not tell."
+
+"But thee writes; I've seen thee."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I want thee to write thy mother to-day, Isabelle," he said, sternly.
+
+He told his wife of this conversation later.
+
+"She writes volumes on Sunday," he said, "now what does she do with it?"
+
+"She is one of the strangest children we've ever had, Adam," she
+answered.
+
+"She is rather exhausting to me," he said.
+
+"She's lived under abnormal conditions of some sort. I cannot seem to
+visualize her parents at all. She never speaks of them. She was so
+bitter and sullen when she came to us," Mrs. Benjamin mused. "I must try
+to get her confidence about her parents, she may be needing help."
+
+"She came to thee just in time, my Phoebe."
+
+"Yes, that's true. A little more and she would have been a bitter
+cynic at eighteen. Even now when she just begins to respond, like a
+frost-bitten plant, I am not sure of the blossom."
+
+"Hot-house growth, thee must remember."
+
+"She interests me deeply, and I'm growing very fond of her."
+
+"Lucky Isabelle," her husband smiled.
+
+Later in the day when the other girls were out at play Mrs. Benjamin
+came upon Isabelle, pen in hand, gazing into the distance.
+
+"What is troubling my child?"
+
+"Mr. Benjamin told me to write to Max."
+
+"Who is Max?"
+
+"My mother."
+
+"Thy mother, and thee calls her Max?"
+
+"I always have."
+
+"But it is not respectful, is it?"
+
+"No, but I don't respect her much."
+
+"Doesn't thee?"--calmly.
+
+"No, you can't"--earnestly.
+
+"And what does thee call thy father?"
+
+"Wally."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin smiled. Here was all the clue she needed to the kind of
+parents Isabelle possessed.
+
+"It may have been considered precocious, when thee was little, to call
+them so. But if I were in thy place, I would not do it now. It gives the
+wrong impression of thy manners. I think thee has very pretty manners,"
+she added.
+
+Isabelle flushed with pleasure.
+
+"You see, Max--my mother--doesn't really care where I am, or what I do,
+so long as I'm not in her way, so I don't know what to write her."
+
+"Couldn't thee write thy father, then?"
+
+"Well, it would be easier," she admitted. "Wally is a good sort, and
+understands more."
+
+"Write to him then. That will do, I'm sure."
+
+"All right. But nobody writes _me_ letters. I never get any."
+
+"To whom does thee write in the letter hour, my dear?"
+
+Isabelle was on her guard at once.
+
+"Oh, to somebody I like."
+
+"Some friend of thine?"
+
+"Um--yes."
+
+"Couldn't thee tell me about this friend? Mr. Benjamin and I are
+especially interested in the friends of our girls. I have never seen
+thee post thy letters."
+
+"I don't post them"--shamefacedly.
+
+"Oh, they are to an imaginary friend," said Mrs. Benjamin, seizing an
+idea.
+
+Isabelle nodded.
+
+"That's delightful. I used to have an imaginary companion, too. Is thine
+a girl?"
+
+"No."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin ignored Isabelle's uncommunicativeness.
+
+"Why wouldn't that be a good idea for the theme class, Isabelle?
+'Letters to an imaginary chum'?"
+
+"Mine isn't a chum."
+
+"Would thee care to tell me?"
+
+Isabelle rose.
+
+"I'll show them to you," she said; and she ran upstairs, and brought a
+collection of letters to lay in Mrs. Benjamin's lap.
+
+"Thank thee, dear. May I read them?"
+
+The girl nodded. Mrs. Benjamin lifted the first one. It was addressed
+to: "My Regular Parents." Isabelle went and threw herself down by the
+fire, her face turned away, while Mrs. Benjamin read:
+
+    Oh my dear Parents:
+      I wish you could see this beautiful school I've come to. It has
+    hills, and a large house, and Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin. Mr.
+    Benjamin has a wrinkly smile, and Mrs. Benjamin is so
+    understanding. They are Quakers and say "thee" and "thou" for
+    "you." It is sweet. When I come home let us say "thee" and
+    "thou" to each other, will you? It sounds so very special.
+      We study out of doors, and it is fun. We play lots of things,
+    like basketball in the field, so we are healthy. My room-mate is
+    Peggy Starr, a very young girl, often tiresome.
+      This is Sunday, and all the girls write home, so I write you,
+    dear, dear, regular parents. I think of you a great deal. Mr.
+    and Mrs. Benjamin are just like you, that is why I love them so
+    dearly. I am glad we are poor and have only each other, aren't
+    you? I know some people named Max and Wally, who are rich. They
+    have so much golf, and parties that they can't ever bother with
+    their child, except to scold her. But you care about me, don't
+    you? And you like to hear what I do at school. I would be
+    lonesome without you.
+      I will try hard to do good, because I love you so much.
+                                  Your loving daughter,
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin finished them, then looked at the girl, whose face was
+turned away, and her smile was very tender. She spoke simply, without a
+touch of sentimentality.
+
+"Dear, they are very sweet and loving letters. I am glad thee thinks Mr.
+Benjamin and I are like thy 'regular parents.'"
+
+Isabelle looked at her shyly.
+
+"Suppose we make an agreement, Isabelle. Thee is to write a short letter
+to thy father every Sunday, and the rest of the letter hour can be
+devoted to thy 'regular parents.' This letter thee will post to me,
+and--since I have no 'regular daughter'--every Sunday afternoon I will
+post a letter to thee. Is that a bargain?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried the girl, flaming to meet this suggestion--this
+understanding. "Oh, dear Mrs. Benjamin," she added, "you are so
+love-ful!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+
+
+The new relationship established between Mrs. Benjamin and Isabelle was
+so precious to the little girl that she abandoned her banner of revolt
+once for all, and gave herself up to the congenial atmosphere of Hill
+Top. It was the only home she had ever known, since home is a matter of
+love and people rather than bricks and stones.
+
+The secret correspondence was a complete outlet for Isabelle's
+imagination, and she pored over the letters her "regular mother" wrote
+her with utter devotion. She put them away to keep for all her life.
+They were indeed wonderful letters, full of the fine idealism, the
+working philosophy that inspired the Benjamins. When there was some
+misdemeanour, or some fractured rule to be called to Isabelle's
+attention, it was delicately introduced into the weekly letter, instead
+of being talked out in the library.
+
+Excess vitality got the girl into scrapes sometimes, but as the
+Benjamins came to understand her better and to love her, they found ways
+of appealing to her common sense, or her instinct for justice, to which
+she never failed to respond. Her quick mind had already put her at the
+head of her classes.
+
+The out-of-door life and her enjoyment of everything began to show in
+her whole bearing. Her face lost its sharp curves, she took on some
+flesh, her colour was high and her eyes were bright. At last she was
+coming into her birthright of happy, normal girlhood.
+
+The letters home continued to be written to Wally, and once in a long
+while she had a brief note from him.
+
+"What kind of a father have you got?" she inquired of Peggy, one day,
+after the perusal of one of these epistles.
+
+"He is very nice, I think. He was sorry I wasn't a boy, but he always
+gives me five dollars whenever he sees me. What kind is yours?"
+
+"Wally is the nicest person in our family," she said guardedly.
+
+"Is your father handsome?"
+
+Isabelle hesitated a second.
+
+"Yes--very."
+
+"Mine isn't. He's fat--awf'ly fat. His head blouses over his collar all
+round."
+
+"You mean his neck."
+
+"No, he hasn't any neck--it's the back of his head. Don't you wish your
+father looked like a Gibson man?"
+
+"Mine does."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes. Very tall and broad-shouldered, with wavy hair, grey eyes, and
+_wonderful_ teeth! He's very smart looking--oh, very!"
+
+"Oh, Isabelle, he must be grand!" ejaculated Peggy.
+
+"You ought to see him on a horse. He's just superb," she answered,
+delighted with her fairy story.
+
+"Who is?" asked one of the crowd of six girls who joined them at this
+moment.
+
+"Isabelle's father. Tell them about him, Isabelle," urged Peggy, the
+adoring.
+
+So Isabelle began to enlarge upon the theme of the magnificent being who
+was her father. When she had finished his portrait Wally was a cross
+between a Norse Viking and a Greek god, with a few lines by Charles Dana
+Gibson just to bring him into the realm of reality. The girls were
+thrilled to hear of this heroic being. They entreated Isabelle to have
+him visit her, but she assured them that it was out of the question.
+This superman, this leader of society and Wall Street, could never find
+time to visit so obscure a spot.
+
+Isabelle's father became a legendary figure among them, beautiful and
+godlike. She shone in the reflected glory of him for weeks. His
+experiences and adventures were added to _ad infinitum_.
+
+"And my father was riding on his black horse, Nero, when he saw this
+_very_ beautiful girl, in distress. He asked her what was the matter;
+she told him that she was falsely accused--that the police were after
+her."
+
+"Oh, what was she accused of, Isabelle?"--breathlessly.
+
+"Murder," said Isabelle, promptly.
+
+"Mercy! what _did_ your father do?"
+
+"He hesitated not a minute. With one sweep of his arm he lifted her to
+the saddle before him, and started Nero on a gallop."
+
+"Did the girl scream?"
+
+"Oh, no. She relaxed in his arms. She knew she could trust my _father_.
+He rushed her to his shooting lodge in the forest and hid her there for
+several weeks."
+
+"But, Isabelle, didn't he fall in love with her?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But he was _married_."
+
+"Well, a little thing like that wouldn't matter to a man like my father.
+He loved her but he told her he could not marry her because of Max and
+me."
+
+"And did he leave her?"--disconsolately.
+
+"Yes, he left her."
+
+"Did the police find her?"
+
+"Never. She went off to Europe and nobody ever knew a thing about it."
+
+"How did you know about it?"--suspiciously.
+
+"Oh, I am my father's confidante," boasted Isabelle. "We tell each other
+everything."
+
+"Does he still love her?"
+
+"Oh, yes; he will bear the marks to his grave."
+
+A sigh of sentimental satisfaction went around.
+
+"I wish my father was interesting like that," sighed Peggy.
+
+It was in the spring when romance was in the very air, that a motor
+honked up the hill, and Wally inquired for Isabelle. Mrs. Benjamin
+received him.
+
+"I'm anxious about Isabelle," he said, early in their talk.
+
+"Anxious?"
+
+"Yes. You've never made any complaints about her, or threatened to send
+her home or anything."
+
+"We have no complaints to make," Mrs. Benjamin smiled. "She is a very
+clever and delightful child."
+
+"Delightful? Isabelle?"
+
+"We find her so. Affectionate, easily managed, full of life, and a
+natural leader."
+
+"How Isabelle must have changed!" said Wally, soulfully.
+
+When at a summons from Mrs. Benjamin the girl came into the room, he saw
+that she had changed. She electrified the room with her health and
+vitality.
+
+"Wally!" she exclaimed, and suddenly went white to the lips.
+
+"Hello, Isabelle; thought I'd have a look at you, in passing."
+
+He kissed her cold cheek awkwardly.
+
+"Don't seem very pleased to see me," he added.
+
+"Oh, but I am, Wally; I am," she said, with an anxious eye on the door.
+
+"Thou may'st have a holiday, Isabelle, to visit with thy father. We'd be
+glad to have thee spend the night, Mr. Bryce."
+
+"Just here for a few hours, thanks. Thought I'd look in on the kid. Very
+kind of you, I'm sure."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin left them.
+
+"Wally, do me a favour," said Isabelle, breathlessly.
+
+"So soon?" he laughed.
+
+"Take me off in the motor for the day."
+
+"But I want to see the school, and meet your pals, and get acquainted
+with the Benjamins."
+
+"Oh, Wally, it's just like any school, and I'm shut up here all the time.
+I'm just dying for a day in the country," she urged. "_P-l-e-a-s-e_
+Wally."
+
+"All right, come on. You aren't taking me off for fear they'll give you
+away, are you?"
+
+"Give me away?"--anxiously.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin says you're a prize pupil, but they can't get away with
+that, Isabelle; I know you."
+
+"No, you don't," she laughed. "I'm all new."
+
+She slipped her arm through his and urged him forth.
+
+"Come on, Wally, be a dear."
+
+So she managed to get him in the car and away from the house before the
+school trooped in. She had no plan beyond that, but she knew that she
+must never let Wally go back to that school. She looked at his little
+wizened face, muffled up in his coat collar, and his little pinched
+hands on the wheel. No; only over her dead body should the girls see
+Wally!
+
+She set herself to his entertainment, and got him into a good humour in
+no time. He roared at her stories, her comments on the girls. He noted
+her fine colour.
+
+"You're getting handsome, Isabelle."
+
+"Beauty is but skin deep. I rely on my line of talk," she replied, and
+joined in his laughter.
+
+"Look here, why did you railroad me out of that school so fast?"
+
+"I thought it would be nicer to have you all to myself," she replied,
+innocently.
+
+"Isabelle, Isabelle, what are you up to?" her father demanded.
+
+"Nothing, Wally--honest. I'm a reformed character."
+
+She induced him to take her to lunch at The Gay Dog Inn, and they were
+very merry over the meal.
+
+"I quite like you, Isabelle," said Wally. "You used to embarrass me to
+death."
+
+"I've always rather liked you, Wally," she retorted, to their mutual
+amusement.
+
+"See here, I must be getting on, if I'm to make Boston for dinner," he
+said, consulting his watch.
+
+"You needn't take me clear up to the school. You may drop me at what we
+call the cross roads."
+
+"Oh, I'll get you back," he protested.
+
+From the moment they were headed for the school she talked feverishly,
+and thought wildly. How could she keep him from going to Hill Top? They
+had some trouble with the engine and while Wally tinkered with it, she
+sat with her eyes screwed shut, praying that something would happen to
+save her face.
+
+"No extra tires and a balky engine. I'll bounce that mechanic when I get
+back," he grumbled, as they started off again.
+
+The short spring day was beginning to fade, when Isabelle laid her hand
+on his arm.
+
+"This is the cross roads. I get out here," she said.
+
+"I'll run you up," he answered, casually.
+
+"But I'd rather walk, Wally. I need the exercise."
+
+As she was beginning to get out, he had to stop.
+
+"What's the plot?"
+
+"No plot. You'll be terribly late now. It was _sweet_ of you to come,
+Wally, and I'm obliged for the party," she said, kissing him, and
+dismounting.
+
+"Isabelle, have you murdered anybody?" he asked, gravely.
+
+"Not yet," she replied, equally gravely. Then with a wave and a shouted
+good-bye she ran up the hill, and disappeared into the underbrush.
+
+"Well, I'm damned!" grinned her father; and he turned back on his way to
+Boston.
+
+Isabelle ran through the woods singing, whistling, praying. "Good Lord,
+I thank thee," she said, repeatedly. "You can rely on me not to lie
+again." Flushed and relieved from doom, happy as a cricket, she appeared
+at the school. She was greeted with howls of rage from the girls.
+
+"Isabelle, you pig! To carry him off without letting us see him."
+
+"How did he look? Is he handsomer than ever?" they chorused.
+
+But Isabelle escaped their catechism. She had been saved once, and she
+dared not tamper with fate again. At every thought of Wally, speeding
+back to Boston, she drew a deep sigh of relief.
+
+As they were all seated at supper Mr. Benjamin asked:
+
+"Didst thou have a pleasant day with thy father, little girl?"
+
+Ten pairs of envious eyes were upon her.
+
+"Perfect," she sighed.
+
+"Sorry we could not keep him overnight."
+
+The maid entered to speak to Mrs. Benjamin, whereupon she rose and left
+the table. Isabelle was enlarging upon the delights of her holiday when
+her tongue suddenly clave to the roof of her mouth. She heard a voice
+saying:
+
+"Engine wouldn't work--tire punctured."
+
+She prayed violently for a fatal stroke of lightning or paralysis, but
+in vain. Mrs. Benjamin entered, followed by an irritated dapper little
+man.
+
+"Adam, my dear, we have a guest. This is Isabelle's father."
+
+A gasp went round the table--audible, visible. Never in his life had
+Wally Bryce made such a sensation. He stared at these girls who turned
+such strange looks upon him. As for Isabelle, at the moment she would
+not have hesitated at patricide, but that being out of the question, she
+burst into peal after peal of hysterical laughter.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin were perfectly aghast at the behaviour of the
+school, and Wally remarked irritably,--
+
+"Shut up, Isabelle; shut up!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN
+
+
+That supper proved to be a most difficult meal! Usually when there were
+guests, the girls talked and behaved very prettily, but on this occasion
+they sat like silent, accusing ghosts, eating in unbroken stillness.
+Mrs. Benjamin tried to lead them into conversation, but in vain. There
+were cross currents of feeling which she could not understand or cope
+with. Isabelle babbled on, with intermittent fits of hysterical
+laughter. Whenever she spoke, black looks were concentrated upon her;
+when Wally spoke, they were transferred to him. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin
+did their best, but they were relieved when the ordeal was over and the
+girls went off to the study room.
+
+Isabelle was excused, because of her guest. She was glad of every moment
+that postponed her hour of reckoning. Wally could be disposed of, but
+the girls must be met. The Benjamins had duties to attend to, so Wally
+and his daughter were left alone for a quarter of an hour, in the
+library.
+
+"Look here!" he burst out at her. "What's the matter with those kids?"
+
+"Matter?"--innocently.
+
+"They glared at me as if I had murdered their mothers! Do they always
+eat in dead silence like that?"
+
+Isabelle cast a glance over her shoulders to see that they were quite
+alone.
+
+"This is what I tried to save you from," she whispered.
+
+"You mean that's why you bundled me off this morning, and barred me out
+this evening?"
+
+She nodded solemnly.
+
+"The machine balked, the tire blew out, I had to come back," he
+apologized. "What's the matter with 'em anyhow?"
+
+"You see we have a society for the Discouragement of Visiting Parents."
+
+"What's the point?"
+
+"You see, we endure a great deal from our parents, at home, but here we
+are free. The minute they begin visiting us, the trouble begins. So when
+they come, we are pledged to act like this, and they never come again."
+
+"Nice hospitable lot of kids! And do the Benjamins stand for this?"
+
+"They don't know about it; it's a secret."
+
+"They can see, can't they? A blind man could have seen their outrageous
+manners," he remarked, hotly.
+
+"Parents have outrageous manners, too, you know, and we have to put up
+with them"--calmly.
+
+"Well, I'm----"
+
+"Don't swear, Wally; Quakers don't like it."
+
+"I never heard such nerve in my life! Lot of kids setting themselves
+up----"
+
+"Try to put yourself in our place, Wally. When you were at school, did
+you long to have your mother visit you?"
+
+"That was different----"
+
+"No, that was the same," she said, finally. "I tried to save you, but
+you would come back. I've enjoyed your visit very much, but it's against
+our rules to act kindly to visiting parents, and if I do I'll be
+expelled."
+
+"I suppose you'd like me to leave to-night?"--sarcastically.
+
+"No, but get off as soon as you can in the morning, and let me manage
+things to-night."
+
+The Benjamins joined them at this point, so conversation became general.
+Isabelle withdrew into her own mind, to think ahead how to avert the
+next crisis. When the girls came down for the hour of relaxation, there
+would be more embarrassment, unless she could manage. She strolled to
+the window and looked out.
+
+There was a brilliant full moon, showering its largesse over the hills.
+They looked so calm, so remote--why did humans introduce such problems
+into the scheme of things? questioned Isabelle precociously. But the
+view gave her an idea.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin," she cried, "might we have a moonlight tramp and show my
+father some of our walks?"
+
+"Would thy father like that? We often go for a walk in the moonlight,
+Mr. Bryce. The girls like it before they go to bed. Would thee enjoy
+it?"
+
+Isabelle fixed him with a stern eye, and nodded.
+
+"Why, yes, I think that would be nice," said Wally, who hated walking.
+
+When the girls came down they silently accepted the plan. They put on
+their sweaters and boots, as the spring was young and the ground soft.
+Mrs. Benjamin marvelled at their restraint, but laid it to their
+commendable desire to appear well before their guest. Two by two they
+marched dumbly behind the Benjamins and the Bryces. Up hill and down
+they went. Isabelle felt their eyes like javelins in her back, even
+while she kept up a lively stream of conversation.
+
+"Girls, thee need not walk in line," protested Mrs. Benjamin. "Show thy
+father the sowing game, Isabelle. Lead the girls out. This is a game thy
+daughter invented, Mr. Bryce, and which we love to play."
+
+Isabelle, thus adjured, stepped forth, swept the enemy with a glance and
+took command. It was really a sort of a dance, whirling and circling and
+sowing seed in pantomime. Usually it was a wild, laughing happy
+affair--with antics and pranks extemporaneously introduced--but to-night
+it was as forced and funereal as a chorus of grave diggers. Mr. Bryce
+murmured appreciation, Mrs. Benjamin looked her question to her husband,
+who shook his head.
+
+After what seemed to Wally ages of torment and a hundred miles or so of
+action, they went back to the school and to bed. Reminded by Isabelle,
+he arranged for an early start, and then Wally's part in the episode was
+closed.
+
+But Isabelle's troubles had just begun. Peggy was in bed when she
+entered their room, and Isabelle was sure she was awake although her
+face was toward the wall, and no answer to questions passed her lips.
+Isabelle hurried to put out the light, but when she was in bed, whispers
+seemed to surround her, fingers to point at her, out of the dark. She
+turned the situation over and over in her mind. She had spared Wally the
+truth, but she herself must face it. Unless she could think of a way to
+explain her fairy stories to the girls, her position as leader in that
+school was lost. She invented this explanation and that, only to discard
+them. It seemed as if only her death could solve the problem, and she
+felt that to be extreme, in the circumstances.
+
+She turned and tossed and agonized for hours, to fall, finally, into a
+troubled sleep, beset by dreams of herself, as a sort of pariah,
+wandering through her school days, on the edge of things.
+
+The next day brought no soothing surprise. Cold nods of good-morning
+greeted her, groups of whispering critics edged away from her
+contaminating presence. Even Peggy, the faithful, had gone over to
+the enemy. The nervous strain of the day told on her, and when she
+made a bad mistake in a recitation the class tittered.
+
+"Why, girls," said Mr. Benjamin in surprise, "it is not courteous to
+laugh at a mistake."
+
+Evening brought Isabelle to a state of complete despair. The heavens had
+not opened to save her this time. She was to expiate in full. . . . Then
+she rose to new heights. She determined to make full confession and
+demand a public sentence. She would make herself suffer to the full
+extent.
+
+True to instinct, even in despair, she waited until the girls had
+gathered for recreation hour before bedtime. Then she rose up, and as it
+were, laid her head upon the block.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin, I have to be punished," she said.
+
+"Hast thou, Isabelle?"
+
+"I want the girls to pronounce my sentence."
+
+Mr. Benjamin smiled at his wife.
+
+"I hope thy friends will temper justice with mercy, Isabelle," he
+remarked with the wrinkly smile threatening. "What is thy crime?"
+
+"It's about my father," began the culprit.
+
+"Yes, what about thy father?"
+
+The girls eyed her hostilely, where she stood, by the fireplace,
+dominating the scene.
+
+"I've always loved beautiful people so . . ." she began intensely.
+
+"That is no sin," encouraged Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+"I admire big, handsome men . . ."
+
+One of the girls sniffed. This sound let loose the flow of Isabelle's
+histrionic remorse.
+
+"Oh, you must listen to me," she cried, "you cannot condemn me until I
+have told it all."
+
+"That is fair," said the calm voice of Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+"It was always a disappointment to me that my father was so little and
+queer."
+
+"But, Isabelle," interrupted Mrs. Benjamin, quickly.
+
+"Please, I have to say what I think or it isn't a true story. Wally is
+much the nicest person in our family, but somehow he never seemed to
+count with anybody."
+
+This daring focussed their attention. Mrs. Benjamin shook her head at
+her husband, who was about to interrupt this performance.
+
+"I wanted a big kind of father, who blustered at you and made you feel
+respectful. I wanted him to have adventures, like Don Quixote, and make
+you thrilly all up and down your spine!"
+
+"Didst thou want him to wear a sword and scabbard?" interrupted Mr.
+Benjamin, who disapproved of these heroics. But Isabelle was warmed to
+her subject now, and she did not hear him.
+
+"Imagine what it meant to me to want that kind of a father, and to get
+Wally! You all know how I felt. It was just what you felt last night
+when you saw him first," she accused them. "When I was a lonely little
+girl I used to make up stories about the kind of parent I wanted. The
+made-up one got all mixed up with the real one. So when Peggy asked me
+if my father was handsome, I didn't stop to think which one she meant, I
+just said yes because the make-believe one was awf'ly good looking."
+
+"But you only have one father, Isabelle," Peggy defended herself.
+
+"I know I really have only one, but don't you see, I didn't _mean_ to
+tell a lie, even if it did turn out to be one."
+
+"What did thee tell, Isabelle?" inquired Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+"I told Peggy that my father was handsome, meaning my make-believe one.
+The girls asked me about him, and I told them a lot of stories about
+him. They were always asking me to tell more."
+
+"They were all about rescuing beautiful girls, and catching burglars,
+and saving children. You ought to have heard what she told us about
+him!" exclaimed Agnes Pollock.
+
+"Why, Isabelle!"
+
+"But they were true! They did happen to the other one!"
+
+"There isn't any other one!" retorted Peggy.
+
+"Yes, there is. I believe in him, and so do you, every one of you!"
+countered Isabelle. "He was just as real as Mr. Benjamin. You said so
+yourselves."
+
+"But he's only made up."
+
+"Oh, can't you see that the things you make up are lots realer than the
+things that are?" cried Isabelle with such conviction that they were all
+silenced.
+
+"The matter comes to this, doesn't it? Isabelle, not intending to lie,
+misled all of ye about her father," said Mr. Benjamin, gravely.
+
+"Yes, and we adored him so! When that little wizened man came in, we
+almost died!" blurted out Peggy.
+
+The light broke upon the Benjamins, but they tried not to smile at each
+other.
+
+"Isabelle's imagination can prove a gift or a curse," Mr. Benjamin
+continued. "Its possession lays a great obligation upon her. If it is
+used to mislead, or to obscure the truth, it is a dangerous power.
+Whatever the extenuating circumstances, it comes to this, that Isabelle
+lied to her friends. Phoebe, what does thee think about this situation?"
+
+"I think thee is right in saying that this is a very serious matter. I
+agree with Isabelle, that she should be punished, if only to remind her
+that such misuse of a talent is a very ugly thing."
+
+"I have been punished by the way the girls have treated me! I am
+punished when Mr. Benjamin says I have told a lie! But I want you to do
+something to hurt me! I wish Mr. Benjamin would beat me, or put me on
+bread and water. I hate myself. I'm just a common, mean liar! Whatever
+you decide to do to me is all right, and I deserve it!"
+
+As she denounced herself, she fairly glowed with indignation; she was
+radiant with humility. The girls were hypnotized by her!
+
+"I think Isabelle should miss the recreation hour for a month," said Mr.
+Benjamin.
+
+The girls gasped, for this was the extreme penalty, but Isabelle never
+flinched.
+
+"I will, Mr. Benjamin. I'll go to bed alone, in the dark, for a month
+and pray the Lord not to let me be a liar."
+
+"I think thee must not rely too much upon divine power, Isabelle. Set a
+watch upon thy tongue thyself," he said--very severely for the gentle
+Adam. "Thee may go to bed now."
+
+Condemned, abased, like a prisoner en route to the gallows, Isabelle
+walked from among them. She was disgraced, but, Isabelle-like, she wore
+her shame like a rose in her hair!
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER SIXTEEN
+
+
+Isabelle was not forced to abrogate her reign, after all. Somehow her
+cleverness and her oddity always kept the spotlight focussed upon her.
+Needless to state Wally did not repeat his visit, and the spring term
+came to its end.
+
+With its expiration came a letter from Mrs. Bryce asking whether the
+Benjamins would keep Isabelle at Hill Top until the end of August, as
+the Bryces were going to Europe and did not wish to take her with them.
+It never occurred to Mrs. Bryce to consult the girl's pleasure in the
+matter, but Mrs. Benjamin carried the letter to her at once.
+
+"Would thee like to stay, Isabelle?"
+
+"Like it? I'd adore it!" cried that young person, with the explosive
+over-emphasis of youth.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin smiled and patted her hand.
+
+"We would like it, too. I will write thy mother."
+
+So it was arranged, and Isabelle stayed on. Two other girls were to
+remain also. By special petition to Wally Isabelle was permitted to have
+the Peruvian horse to spend the summer with her.
+
+It was a never-to-be-forgotten holiday for those three girls. They took
+part in all the activities of the farm. They picked fruit and helped
+Mrs. Benjamin and the cook to can the big supplies of jam and jelly for
+the school. They helped in the garden with the vegetables or worked and
+weeded Mrs. Benjamin's beloved flowers. They pitched hay, they drove the
+rake and the grass cutter. They were busy in the open from morning until
+night and as happy as field larks.
+
+Lessons had stopped, but education went on. They read aloud with Mrs.
+Benjamin; they studied and learned, first hand, of Nature's prodigality
+or niggardliness. Always there was the cultivation of the spirit. Love
+and fair dealing made the foundation upon which these simple Quaker folk
+had builded their lives, and no one could live in the home of their
+making without feeling that these were as essential to life as
+breathing.
+
+Isabelle had long, wild gallops over the hills on her horse, during
+which she pondered "the long, long thoughts of youth" and brought the
+resulting problems to Mrs. Benjamin in the weekly letters, or in some of
+their intimate talks.
+
+"It is hard to believe that this is the freakish sullen child who came
+to us less than a year ago," Mrs. Benjamin commented as the girls went
+off to bed one night.
+
+"No, it is wonderful. Thou hast made a new being of her."
+
+"Thou hast done it as much as I have. It is evidently her first
+experience of being understood and loved."
+
+"What strange excrescences do grow up on our so-called civilization," he
+said.
+
+"Is thee calling the rich an excrescence?" she smiled.
+
+"I know that they are just human beings like ourselves, but how do they
+get things so awry? They put such a slight upon parenthood, with their
+servant-made children."
+
+She nodded, and he went on developing his thought.
+
+"It is ominous when the basic relationships are so abused--marriage held
+so lightly, children disdaining their own parents, as our Isabelle does.
+Where is it leading us, Phoebe?"
+
+"Dear knows--dear knows!" she sighed, shaking her head.
+
+It was a well-worn theme with them. They had to ponder deeply these
+tendencies, for it was their work to try to counteract these destructive
+forces--to build up in the hearts of these servant-made children, as Mr.
+Benjamin called them, a respect for God and man and the holy things that
+grow out of their relationship.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The summer passed almost without event. The three girls, hard and brown
+as Indians, were beginning to plan for the fall, when the others would
+return.
+
+It was in early September that the blow fell upon Isabelle. A telegram
+from Wally had appraised his daughter of their arrival in New York. They
+were to spend the fall at the Club house near The Beeches. He hoped she
+was well. Did she want him to come and see her?
+
+She answered this briefly, also a note from her mother. As Mrs. Bryce
+rarely troubled to write letters to any one, Isabelle pondered the
+reason for this amiable epistle. It was soon to be explained. Mrs.
+Benjamin received a letter from Mrs. Bryce saying that notification had
+arrived that Isabelle would be admitted this October to Miss Vantine's
+Finishing School, where her name had been entered for years. She wished
+the girl sent directly to this address in New York on the last day of
+September, as she was to board at the school for the present until it
+was decided whether the Bryces would open their town house.
+
+Mr. Benjamin shook his head sadly over this letter, and carried it to
+his wife.
+
+"Adam--Adam, we cannot let her go to _that_ school! It will be her
+ruination," she exclaimed.
+
+"My dear, it is the most fashionable school in New York," he replied,
+with a sigh.
+
+"It is shoddy, and artificial and false!" she protested in unwonted
+heat. "My poor, dear Isabelle! Adam, couldn't we make a plea for
+her?--tell her mother how she improves here, how fast she progresses?"
+
+"Phoebe dear, dost thou think that that would interest this lady?"
+
+"But we can't let her go without one effort to save her. I think it is
+as serious as that, at this stage of the girl's development."
+
+"Suppose thee writes a letter to Mrs. Bryce."
+
+"I will. Let us not speak of it to Isabelle until I have her mother's
+answer."
+
+"Very well, dear heart."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin wrote and re-wrote the letter. Finally one was despatched
+and she anxiously awaited the reply. It was long in coming, and it fell
+like a blow on her heart. Mrs. Bryce was glad to have such a good report
+of Isabelle, but her plan had always been that the girl should spend,
+at Miss Vantine's school, the two years previous to her début, as she
+herself had done. All the girls of her daughter's set went there, and
+she wished Isabelle to be with them. Thanking Mrs. Benjamin for her
+interest, etc., etc.
+
+The Benjamins had a conference of disappointment over it, and it was
+decided that Isabelle must be told. Mrs. Benjamin's face was so rueful
+over it that her husband offered to do the telling. He and Isabelle were
+going off on an expedition together, which would give him an opportunity,
+and Mrs. Benjamin could provide the comfort that must follow.
+
+He found it no easy task. As he looked at his sturdy young companion,
+listened to her picturesque talk, he felt that he was called upon to
+tell a young vestal virgin that she was to be sacrificed to the god of
+mammon.
+
+"This is good air, isn't it!" she said, breathing deeply. "How do people
+live in cities, do you suppose?"
+
+Mr. Benjamin longed to shirk, but he took himself in hand.
+
+"I have had a letter from thy mother, Isabelle."
+
+She glanced at him suspiciously.
+
+"What does she want?"
+
+"She wants thee to go to a school in New York this winter."
+
+She stopped and faced him in alarm.
+
+"To leave Hill Top?"
+
+"I'm afraid so, little sister."
+
+"But I won't! I won't go away from here. I love it here, I love you and
+Mrs. Benjamin. Oh, why does Max always interfere with me? I hate her!"
+she cried, passionately.
+
+Mr. Benjamin laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, and walked beside
+her.
+
+"I understand what a blow this is to thee, and how unhappy it makes
+thee. But one of the things that we want our girls to learn is to honour
+and respect their parents," he said gently.
+
+"But how can I respect Max, Mr. Benjamin? She never respects me."
+
+He saw the justice of her remark and strove not to play the moralist.
+
+"Thee can put a curb on thy lips, my dear. I wish that thee might show
+Mrs. Benjamin and me that thy life here with us has meant something to
+thee, by obeying thy mother as cheerfully and willingly as thee can."
+
+He felt the young body under his hand shudder with the effort for
+control. She lifted stricken eyes to him, as he said afterward, and
+nodded without a word. He helped her as well as he could, by talking of
+other things, but he felt her suffering as keenly as if it had been his
+own.
+
+When they came back to the house, she went to her room, and he carried
+the report to his wife.
+
+"Sorrow goes so deep with them, at this age," he said, tenderly.
+
+"Poor, passionate child; she will always be torn by life," sighed Mrs.
+Benjamin. "I will not go to her yet. I'll let her try solitude first."
+
+She did not appear at lunch, so Mrs. Benjamin carried a tray to her. The
+girl was not crying, she was sitting by the window, looking out over
+the hills, in a sort of dumb agony.
+
+"I want thee to eat some lunch, my Isabelle."
+
+A white face turned toward her. The very sun-brown seemed to have been
+seared off by suffering.
+
+"I can't eat, dear Mrs. Benjamin," she said.
+
+"I've been thinking that we might make a plan, dear," the older woman
+said, setting the tray aside and dismissing it. She drew a chair beside
+the girl and took her cold hands. "Thou wilt go to this school, as thy
+mother wishes, but when thou hast finished--it is only two years--if
+thee thinks the kind of life thy mother plans for thee too uncongenial,
+thee must come back to us, and help us with the school. There will
+always be a place for thee here, my child."
+
+"But two years in that loathsome school!"
+
+"Thee dost not know that it's loathsome. I've no doubt that if thee will
+take the right spirit with thee, it may be very good for thee. There are
+opportunities in that great city which Hill Top cannot offer."
+
+"But there won't be any Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin! Oh, Mrs. Benjamin, why
+couldn't you have been my mother?"
+
+"I should have been proud to be, Isabelle," she answered simply. "Thou
+art as dear to me as a daughter."
+
+Isabelle bent and kissed the kind hands that held her own, but she shed
+no tears.
+
+"We all have bitter, disappointing things to meet. I shall expect my
+daughter to meet them with a fine courage," she smiled.
+
+"I'll try," said Isabelle; "but I'd rather die than leave here."
+
+"Thee has met life very squarely, so far as I have known thee. This is a
+test of thy quality, and I know thee will meet it like my true
+daughter."
+
+The girl's eyes brimmed at that, but she looked off over the hills and
+merely nodded. Presently she rose and leaned her cheek for a second
+against Mrs. Benjamin's hair.
+
+"It's all right, mother Benjamin," she said, with the old ring in her
+voice.
+
+The subject was not mentioned again. Save for a somewhat closer
+affection, a tenderer devotion on Isabelle's part, no one would have
+known that they were facing a separation, which was an agony of dread to
+the girl. As Mr. Benjamin had said, of his wisdom: "Sorrow strikes so
+deep at that age."
+
+She took her part in the duties and pleasures of the days. But the
+Benjamins' loving eyes marked a change. She brought no yeoman's appetite
+to the table, she had to be urged to eat. The morning often brought her
+downstairs with dark circles about her eyes.
+
+"Did thee sleep, dear child?"
+
+"Oh, yes, thanks," was the invariable answer.
+
+"She's getting all eyes again," grumbled Mr. Benjamin.
+
+Not until the very last day were the two other girls told of her coming
+departure. The last days were packed to the brim with duties, so that
+she might have no leisure to be sad. She put up a plucky fight; not a
+tear had she shed. But on the last day, when the clear bugle call
+roused her, she sprang from her bed, and ran to the window. Nature was
+at her painting again; splashes of red and yellow and russet brown
+streaked the hills. A sort of delicate mist enfolded them. Was it only a
+year ago that she had looked at these blessed hills for the first time?
+Again father Benjamin's salute to the day rang out. She leaned her head
+against the window, and her body shook with sobs, though no tears came.
+
+When Mr. Benjamin drove up to the door in the wide surrey behind the
+fat, dappled horses, she kissed the girls smilingly, she clung to Mrs.
+Benjamin for a long second, then she took her seat beside her friend.
+She looked up at them, in the doorway, waving their good-byes.
+
+"If I didn't know that I was coming back in two years to stay, I
+couldn't bear it, mother Benjamin," she called back. Then the fat horses
+started off briskly, down the road.
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
+
+
+Miss Vantine's School for Girls was probably no better and no worse than
+schools of its kind. It bestowed a superficial training upon its pupils,
+with an accent upon the social graces. Its graduates were always easily
+identified by their English a's, their good diction, their charming
+manners, and their intensely conventional point of view. Any departure
+from the Vantine "norm" in the way of investigation or conclusion was
+discouraged as not nice.
+
+Miss Vantine truly believed in herself as an educator and since her
+school had held its prestige for thirty years, she had reason to think
+that other people agreed with her. Her mark on a girl was absolutely
+guaranteed.
+
+Into this conventional atmosphere Isabelle came from the simple,
+friendly life of Hill Top; and she found it hateful. It was the spirit
+rather than the letter which had prevailed in the Benjamin school, but
+here only the letter counted. The outward forms, correct manners, were
+emphasized every day; but in the process, the courteous heart was
+neglected and left out.
+
+The teachers were the custodians of information, and of the law. They
+bore a perfectly formal relationship to the pupils. Education consisted
+in pouring facts into the upturned cups--the minds of the pupils. When
+Isabelle began to question, to dig deeper into the root of things, the
+why of things--if instead of the usual "Yes, Miss Vantine," or "No, Miss
+Vantine," she demanded basic reasons--the explanation was always
+repeated, patiently in the same words, and the lesson went on.
+
+Isabelle's "rough ways" were deplored, and she was reproved every hour
+in the day. Restraints were imposed on her mind and her body. She was
+like a healthy, curious young animal, all tied with bonds that she could
+neither loose nor fight.
+
+As for the girls, there were some old acquaintances among them--Margie
+Hunter for one. But their talk was of boys, of beaux, and for ever of
+males! They spent hours conversing about their clothes, or commenting on
+the manners of their parents and the morals of their parents' friends.
+They were deeply interested in the discussion of sex, and there were
+some phases of the subject dwelt upon which would have sent Miss Vantine
+down to her grave with the shock, could she have heard their talk.
+
+Now the Benjamins had handled the subject of sex hygiene in their school
+as a vitally important subject. The girls had been led through the study
+of botany and zoology, to procreation and the sex relation in human
+society. Mrs. Benjamin had talked the matter out with her girls with
+fearless frankness. She had encouraged their questions, she had touched
+on the pathology of sex, and she had made for them a high ideal of
+motherhood.
+
+Isabelle realized that the talk of these girls was false and ugly. She
+said so; and the result was that she was excluded from the intimacy of
+the leading group. In her letters to Mrs. Benjamin she poured out her
+whole heart. Protest, misery, loneliness; Mrs. Benjamin sensed them all
+in the poignant letters the girl sent her. She replied with long,
+intimate chapters of encouragement and understanding. It was her counsel
+which kept Isabelle going the first six months of this experience.
+
+She tried with all her might to carry into her daily life the ideals
+taught and lived at Hill Top. But she seemed to be speaking a language
+that nobody understood. Her teachers bored her. She found she could keep
+ahead in her classes with only the most perfunctory study, so the ideal
+of a high standard for work was the first to go. What was the use? There
+was not enough to occupy her, so the old restlessness came upon her,
+with mischievous uses for her excess vitality. She gained a reputation
+as a law breaker, and she was watched and punished with increasing
+frequency. Her old leadership in misbehaviour was once more established.
+The precocious cynicism of her associates began to impress her as
+clever. She outdid them at it. Mrs. Benjamin's friendship was her only
+hope of salvation now. And then, in January, after a brief spell of
+pneumonia, dear Mrs. Benjamin left the world she had so graced, leaving
+an aching vacancy behind for her husband and her friends.
+
+To Isabelle it came as her first real sorrow. For weeks after, the girl
+retired into herself as into a locked room. She could not eat; she did
+not sleep; she grew thin, and haggard, and pale. Worse than that; in her
+rebellion at this loss, she grew bitter. She threw this suffering at the
+feet of God with a threat. She felt herself the victim of eternal
+injustice. Just as she achieved happiness, or friendship, it was always
+snatched from her. Always, before, Max had cheated her of things; now it
+was God.
+
+She came out of it the Isabelle of her early childhood--_révoltée_,
+enemy to authority, defier of God and the universe. Her wit against them
+all. She would take what she wanted now, and let them look out for her!
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+From that time on, she was the acknowledged school "terror." She put her
+entire mind upon misbehaving, and she was as ingenious as a monkey.
+Never a week passed that she was not shut up for an hour in the library
+with Miss Vantine, who always felt, poor lady, that she was dealing with
+a manifestation of the devil.
+
+"Did you, or did you not throw an electric lamp on the floor during the
+algebra lesson, Isabelle?"
+
+"I _dropped_ one on the floor."
+
+"Don't equivocate! You _threw_ it"--sternly.
+
+"All right; I threw it"--defiantly.
+
+"Why did you do it?"
+
+"To wake up the class. If you knew how dull that hour is you wouldn't
+blame me."
+
+"Don't be impertinent!"
+
+"Miss Marshall is a fool. If you ask her a question outside the lesson
+she has to look it up in the book."
+
+"You are not here to criticize your teachers, you are here to account
+for your misbehaviour."
+
+"I am telling you why I misbehave. I can't listen to her. Nobody does.
+She sets us all wild. Everybody was half asleep so I bounced the lamp on
+the floor. She ought to have been grateful to me for getting their
+attention."
+
+"This is the second time this week that you have been reported for
+insubordination. This conduct cannot continue. I am writing your parents
+to-day that unless you mend your ways, they must take you away from
+here. You are contaminating the entire school."
+
+"They can't take me away too quickly."
+
+Miss Vantine thought best to ignore this impertinence.
+
+"You will take twenty demerits, and miss your walk in the park for a
+week. You may go now."
+
+The girl sauntered insolently out of the room, leaving Miss Vantine
+white with rage. She wrote a very firm letter to Mrs. Walter Bryce, who
+in turn wrote a denunciatory letter to her daughter, and there the
+matter rested.
+
+One disgrace followed another, and finally the school year dragged to a
+close. Isabelle went to The Beeches for the summer. There were four
+months of war to the knife with her mother, the usual number of scrapes,
+and a violent love affair with Herbert Hunter, home from St. George's.
+
+"What became of your reformed character?" inquired Wally one day. "I
+thought the Benjamins had made a human being of you."
+
+"They nearly did. But Max dragged me off and sent me to that fool
+Vantine, and I got over being human. What's the use?"
+
+The Bryces were glad when fall came and she was sent back to the school.
+As for Isabelle she did not much care where she went. There was a
+certain satisfaction--an _esprit de diablerie_--which amused her. Sharp
+of tongue and of wit, she knew she had a real gift for making herself a
+nuisance, and she took pride in it.
+
+Miss Vantine warned her at the beginning of the term that she was a
+marked character, and that unless she behaved herself she could not
+stay. She tempered her behaviour somewhat during the first term, but it
+was no use. Like every dog with a bad name, all the mischief in the
+school was attributed to her. According to schoolgirl canons of loyalty
+it was an unforgivable sin to tell tales or "give people away," so
+Isabelle shouldered the iniquity of the whole school. The teachers hated
+and feared her.
+
+Miss Vantine bore with her like a martyr--for two reasons. One was that
+she liked Mrs. Bryce, who had been her pupil; and the other was that she
+had never yet expelled a girl, and she disliked the idea intensely.
+
+But there came a day in early February of Isabelle's second year of
+residence when the end was reached. Herbert Hunter had smuggled a note
+to her that he was coming to New York to have his tonsils out and he
+wanted to see her before he went to the hospital. She answered by
+special delivery and agreed to meet him on Sunday, in the Park. When the
+girls were entering church on that day, Isabelle was taken with a
+violent fit of coughing, and was left in the vestibule to quiet herself.
+She fled to her tryst. But she miscalculated the length of the sermon,
+and met the school coming out, on the church steps. She was questioned,
+led home in disgrace. She was accused of truancy; she admitted it, even
+confessed her rendezvous in the Park.
+
+Miss Vantine had to act this time. She sent a final letter to the
+Bryces with a sentence of suspension for their daughter, who was packed
+off home at once, in disgrace. Mrs. Bryce was furious because she and
+Wally were going off with the Abercrombie Brendons on their yacht. She
+explained their dilemma to their hostess and she was decent enough to
+include the girl, but it was a nuisance to have her along.
+
+No time was lost in letting Isabelle feel her disgrace. After a
+perfunctory greeting, her mother remarked:
+
+"You've made a nice record for yourself, haven't you?"
+
+Isabelle made no reply.
+
+"Why don't you answer me?"
+
+"Foolish question, Number One. Yes, I have made a nice record for
+myself."
+
+"If you make yourself a nuisance around here, I shall find a way to
+punish you," she threatened her.
+
+"Go ahead. Get it all off your chest at once and then drop it."
+
+Mrs. Bryce decided upon injured dignity, as her best rôle.
+
+"Where's Wally?" demanded Isabelle.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What's doing around here? I expect to enjoy myself on this little
+vacation. I hope you don't intend to be too disagreeable."
+
+Later at dinner Wally remarked to his wife--
+
+"Tell her about the trip?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What trip?" demanded their daughter.
+
+"We are going off on the Abercrombie Brendons' yacht, and your
+unfortunate return has forced Mrs. Brendon to include you in the party."
+
+"I hope you said 'No, thanks' for me."
+
+"We said 'yes' for you," replied Wally.
+
+"But I won't go. Shut up on a boat with you two and the Brendons? Not
+much."
+
+"You're not being consulted," remarked her mother, coolly.
+
+"You'll have to drag me aboard."
+
+Mrs. Bryce's temper flared.
+
+"You will walk aboard and you will behave like a decent individual while
+we are on this cruise, or there will be the most serious consequences
+you have ever met yet. Nobody wants you on this party, you understand,
+and the less conspicuous you make yourself, the better."
+
+Isabelle beamed upon them.
+
+"Thank you so much for your charming invitation, my dear, doting
+parents. I accept with pleasure, and I think I can promise you that your
+little outing will be a complete success, so far as I am concerned."
+
+She laughed lightly, and Mr. and Mrs. Bryce exchanged uneasy glances.
+Something in that laugh did not promise well for their holiday.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
+
+
+The motor boat from the _Empress_ was at the pier when the three Bryces
+made their appearance on the day of the departure. They were taken out
+to the yacht at once, where Mr. Abercrombie Brendon was already
+ensconced. He was a pompous, red-faced little man, with a great deal of
+stomach and a great deal of manner. He was in high good humour with the
+weather and the world in general. He greeted Isabelle by singing, a line
+from a light opera success of his younger days--
+
+"Isabella, Isabella, the love-e-ly queen of Spain."
+
+"Silly ass!" said she to herself, and she went to lean over the rail and
+watch for the coming of the others. They arrived shortly and she took
+inventory. First Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon ascended the steps. She was a
+big, arrogant, impressive woman whom Isabelle immediately named
+"Hecuba." She was followed by a lovely, blonde creature, with deep-blue
+eyes and a short upper lip.
+
+Isabelle fixed her attention upon the last comer, who certainly was an
+attention-fixing young man. He was extremely handsome. Here was the one
+and only hope of this party, so far as she was concerned.
+
+There was a great clatter of greetings.
+
+"Come here, Isabelle, and make your manners," ordered her mother. She
+obeyed, reluctantly.
+
+"So glad to have a young thing with us, my dear," boomed Mrs. Brendon in
+her big voice. "Althea, this is Isabelle Bryce. Miss Morton, Isabelle."
+
+The lovely vision smiled faintly and nodded.
+
+"This is Mr. Jerry Paxton," Mrs. Brendon continued.
+
+Isabelle shot a glance at him, but he failed to get it.
+
+"How do you do?" he said, absently, turning to help Althea adjust her
+veil.
+
+There followed the ceremony of apportioning the staterooms, getting into
+deck hats, and the other preliminaries, while the boat was steaming down
+the harbour. Isabelle stayed on deck and made friends with the captain
+and the sailors. It was fun to watch them padding about so swiftly,
+coiling ropes, and doing their tasks so featly.
+
+The first few days were clear and beautiful. They spent the time on
+deck. Isabelle appraised the situation the first day out. Mrs. Brendon
+intended that the handsome Paxton man should be permanently annexed to
+the blonde beauty, who entirely concurred in the idea. The Paxton man
+was not yet entirely won over to the plan; therefore, he was restless
+and on his guard. Max flirted with old Brendon, and Wally was at loose
+ends. He occasionally donated his society to his daughter.
+
+"I'll make a bet with you, Wally, that Madame Hecuba Brendon won't put
+it through."
+
+"Put what through?"
+
+"Marry Jerry Paxton to the lady with the short lip."
+
+Wally laughed.
+
+"You don't miss anything, do you?"
+
+"I do not."
+
+"You're too young to notice such things."
+
+"Lord! but parents are a bore!" quoth Isabelle at that.
+
+For the most part she kept out of their way those first days. Max
+noticed it, and warned Wally that she was probably cooking up some
+mischief to explode on them.
+
+It would have surprised them could they have peeped into the girl's
+mind. She liked being alone, being still. There had been considerable
+strain to keeping up a reputation as a school terror. It had meant being
+constantly on the alert for an opportunity to misbehave; it meant
+thinking up plots, living up to an exacting standard of wickedness. The
+reaction had come with these idle days and she enjoyed it.
+
+Then, too, she loved the vastness of the sea and the sky, between which
+they made their way. She sat for hours watching white gulls that
+followed in their wake. She wondered if they were not the souls of the
+departed, and she conceived one friendly one, which flew quite near them
+for days, to be the soul of Mrs. Benjamin. Sometimes when she was sure
+that no one was near she stood in the stern and called out to it.
+
+"Dear Mrs. Benjamin, I know you're there. Don't leave me, will you? I
+love so to watch you circling up there. Is it nice in Heaven?"
+
+She pondered about death a good deal, and about heaven. She had not been
+able to bear such thoughts since Mrs. Benjamin died, so bitter had been
+her grief. But there was soothing in the silent vastness, and she came
+to think of heaven as a sublimated Hill Top with Mrs. Benjamin still
+teaching the young.
+
+She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together. She noted the way
+she looked at him--the half-playful wholly tender way she appropriated
+him. It led the girl to ponder upon love also. Here were two beautiful
+people who, according to all the rules of play and story, should be
+making love every minute, in this paradise. Why did the beautiful young
+man hesitate?
+
+[Illustration: _She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together.
+. . . It led the girl to ponder upon love also_]
+
+She decided to interview Althea and see what sort of creature she might
+be. It was not so simple, because Althea was barely aware of Isabelle's
+existence, also she was never without Jerry at her side, if either she
+or Mrs. Brendon could manage it. But there came a chance, when she was
+alone on deck, and Isabelle hastily took the vacated seat beside her.
+Althea glanced at her, faintly surprised.
+
+"Are you having a good time on this cruise?" Isabelle opened fire.
+
+"Oh, yes--very. Aren't you?"
+
+"Not especially. But then I haven't any handsome young man to play
+with."
+
+Althea frowned and made her first mistake.
+
+"You're quite too young for any such ideas," she said.
+
+"I'm out of the cradle, you know!"--hotly. "I'm old enough to know that
+I could handle a handsome young man better than you do, for all your
+age."
+
+"I think you're extremely impertinent!"
+
+"You ought to make a friend of me. I can tell you a thing or two. For
+one thing, he's too sure of you."
+
+Althea rose, white with fury.
+
+"I shall certainly report this impudence to your mother," she said,
+haughtily, moving away. But Isabelle fired the last shot.
+
+"Oh, Max will agree with me. You ought to watch her. She's got some
+technique herself."
+
+After that encounter Althea looked over and through Isabelle, as if she
+were thin air. It amused the girl immensely, and in her wise head she
+made a fair judgment of Miss Morton's mind and disposition. She decided
+that she was entirely unworthy of the god-like Jerry, and she was glad
+he hesitated.
+
+She began to watch him with increased interest. She made romances about
+him, with herself as heroine. She played scenes in which she outwitted
+the haughty beauty, and fled with the hero. She began to pity Jerry. He
+was the unwilling victim of Althea and Mrs. Brendon. How could she,
+Isabelle Bryce, rescue him from their clutches?
+
+In the process of her dreaming she wrecked the yacht, Jerry saved her, and
+as soon as they reached shore they were married. In one version, Althea,
+seeing that he loved Isabelle, threw herself overboard and perished. There
+were many stories, but they always had one ending--Isabelle won and wed
+the handsome young man.
+
+One windy morning when the other "stuffies" (as she called them to
+herself) were playing bridge inside, Isabelle squatted on deck, her chin
+on her knees, watching the big breakers, listening to the scream of the
+petrels, and as usual building air castles about herself and Jerry,
+when lo! her hero came striding down the deck and all at once he stopped
+before her.
+
+"Hello! Aren't you afraid you'll blow overboard?" he inquired.
+
+"No, I'm not. You've waked up, have you?"
+
+"Have I been asleep?"
+
+"You haven't seen me before," she retorted.
+
+"Well, I see you now. Do you know what you look like?" He smiled down at
+her.
+
+"Yes. I look like a ripe olive."
+
+"No, you look like a cricket. Are you always so silent? Don't you ever
+chirp?"
+
+"Me, silent? I've given the Wallys the blow of their lives. They think
+I'm sick, I've been so good on this rotten cruise."
+
+"What caused the reform--good company?"
+
+"No, I'm getting ready to break it to them, that I may not be taken back
+at that school. I got into the devil of a row."
+
+"Did you? And they expelled you?"
+
+"Suspended me, until they decide. That's why I had to come on this jolly
+party."
+
+"You don't like it?"
+
+"Of course, I don't like it. How'd I know whether you'd wake up or not?"
+
+"Did you want me to wake up?" he asked, curiously.
+
+"But, _oui_, aye, _ja_, yes, of course. You don't suppose I want to play
+with fat old Brendon, do you? Wally is a fearful bore, so there is only
+you."
+
+"Poor little cricket, she wanted a playmate," he teased.
+
+"She did. I can't rub my knees together and make a 'crick,' you know, so
+I had to wait until you came to. I'd have pushed you overboard if it
+hadn't happened to-day. I'm so full of unused pep, I'm ready to pop!"
+
+"Come on. I'm awake. Now what?"
+
+"Let's warm up," she said, and was up and off down the deck in one
+spring. Jerry pursued. She raced around the whole deck twice, then
+waited for him to catch up with her.
+
+"Puffing, Jerry? You're getting fat," she jeered.
+
+"You impudent little beggar, I'd like to shake you."
+
+"Try it!"
+
+This might have been called Isabelle's entrance on the scene, because
+from that moment on, she took the stage and exerted herself to hold it.
+She tantalized Jerry every minute. She took all the privileges of
+youthful sixteen, and made frank, outspoken love to him. She never left
+him alone with Althea for a moment. She roused in the breast of that
+blonde young woman such a fierce hatred that murder would have been a
+mild expression of her desires.
+
+Even Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon took a hand, trying first hauteur and
+disapproval, descending finally to bribery and entreaty. Max and Wally
+laboured with their offspring. She only turned big eyes upon them and
+entreated them to tell her what displeased them. She was trying to be a
+credit to them, to save them all from complete dissolution through the
+boredom that had settled down upon them like a cloud.
+
+"You let Jerry Paxton alone," ordered her mother.
+
+"But he adores me, and he is so bored."
+
+"Conceited jackanapes!" said Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"He'd jump overboard if it wasn't for me. I'm his only salvation from
+the wax doll."
+
+Wally laughed and the fight was lost. Mrs. Brendon ordered the captain
+to Palm Beach at once, all steam on. As soon as they landed Jerry
+prepared for flight. He produced a fictitious telegram calling him at
+once to New York.
+
+"Jerry, how can you leave me, in the house of the enemy?" Isabelle
+demanded, when she got him alone.
+
+"Hard lines, kid, but I'm off," he laughed.
+
+"If you loved me you'd take me too."
+
+"You're crazy!"
+
+"But you like me crazy, Jerry."
+
+He grinned and made no reply.
+
+But Isabelle had seen a way. She asked Wally for some money to buy a
+souvenir. The treasure she bought was a ticket to New York on the night
+train. When she was ordered to bed because she was too young for hotel
+hops, she bade Jerry farewell, and went off without protest. From that
+moment on, she worked fast. She pinned a note to Max's pincushion, in
+the most approved fashion. She packed a bag, took a cab to the station,
+went to bed, and what is more, to sleep, in the calm satisfaction, that
+the story was to have a happy ending!
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER NINETEEN
+
+
+The romantic adventure of running off with Jerry proved a dismal
+failure. She had failed to study the psychology of her _particeps
+criminis_ in the fascination of analyzing her own. Far from being
+pleased with her company, he was greatly annoyed thereat. He wired her
+father the facts, begged him to follow to Jacksonville and take her off
+his hands. When Wally stepped from under, as it were, directing Jerry to
+hand the pest over to a teacher in New York, the young man's irritation
+became excessive and he was at no trouble to conceal it.
+
+Isabelle confessed that she had informed her mother "in a pin-cushion
+note" that she had eloped with Jerry. She pointed out to him that, after
+this public announcement of her intentions, it would be necessary for
+him to marry her, "to save her honour" as she phrased it. He laughed,
+brutally. He inquired her age, and when she boasted that she was "going
+on seventeen"--that many girls were "wooed and married and a'," by that
+time--he laughed again.
+
+When, however, she persisted in the idea, and declared her love for him,
+he talked to her like a disagreeable elder brother, casting reflections
+upon her breeding and her manners. He told her that she was a silly
+little thing, that she did not amuse him in the least, and that it was
+high time she began to conduct herself like a lady. He began to address
+her, coldly, as Miss Bryce.
+
+She appealed to him, coquetted with him, abused him; all to no effect. He
+remained formal and distant during the entire journey. She was deeply hurt
+and humiliated by his actions, but on the whole she got considerable
+satisfaction out of the rôle of blighted being.
+
+They both concentrated upon the end of the trip. Jerry longed to be rid
+of his unwelcome responsibility, and Isabelle was interested because she
+had arranged a coup for the moment.
+
+Wally had assured Jerry, by wire, that a teacher from the school would
+meet Isabelle at the station. Isabelle, in the meantime, had wired Miss
+Vantine that a change of plans made it unnecessary for the teacher to
+meet the train. She signed the telegram with her father's name. She
+awaited the moment when Jerry realized that he was not to be rid of her,
+with considerable excitement.
+
+Arrived in New York at ten o'clock, she preserved a demure silence while
+he stormed up and down the station looking for the teacher. He was
+finally convinced that there was no one to meet them.
+
+"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
+
+"Come along," he replied, ungraciously, bundling her into a cab.
+
+They went to a studio building and Jerry pounded on somebody's door for
+ten minutes, in vain. Then he tried another.
+
+"None of your friends care to see us, Jerry," grinned Isabelle. Finally
+he unlocked a door and turned on a light.
+
+"This is your place, Jerry," she cried; and she began a swift inspection.
+
+"You can turn in here for the night, and in the morning I will take you
+to the school."
+
+"Where will you sleep?"
+
+"At a club."
+
+"And leave me in this spooky place alone? I won't stay."
+
+"Don't you see that I cannot take you around town at this hour of the
+night looking for lodgings?"
+
+"I'll go in the bedroom, and you can sleep on the couch. I won't stay
+here alone."
+
+Eventually he telephoned a friend of his, named Miss Jane Judd. He
+invited her to stay with Isabelle. He even went and brought her and
+explained to her that he would call for Isabelle in the morning.
+
+"Oh, Jerry, don't leave me," cried Isabelle, clinging to him. "I don't
+want to stay with this strange woman. I want to go with you--always,
+Jerry--because I love you so. Won't you take me, Jerry?"
+
+"Don't be a little goose, Isabelle."
+
+"Please don't hate me, Jerry," she sobbed.
+
+"I don't hate you when you're sensible."
+
+"Won't you call me Cr-Cricket, just once, Jerry?"
+
+"If you'll be a good girl and go to bed."
+
+"Kiss me good-night."
+
+"I'll do nothing of the kind. Miss Judd, take charge of this crazy kid.
+I'll be back in the morning," he said, desperately, as he escaped.
+
+Isabelle wept, more from weariness and chagrin than anything else, but
+a sort of amused patience on Miss Judd's part caused her to cut short
+any histrionic display. As they prepared for bed she began to regale
+Miss Judd with spicy descriptions of the yachting party. Jane Judd
+laughed heartily.
+
+"You're very naughty, but you are funny," she said to the girl.
+
+"I don't suppose Mrs. Brendon and Althea think I'm funny. Poor old
+baby-doll Althea! She must be furious. She was so sure of Jerry."
+
+"You hop into bed and forget all about Altheas and Jerrys. Sleep is what
+you need," said Miss Judd, putting out the light.
+
+But the flow of Isabelle's talk was not to be stayed. She was excited
+and keyed up high. There was a simplicity and directness about this Judd
+woman that made her think of Mrs. Benjamin, so she told all about Hill
+Top and her life there, her love of it, her despair at Mrs. Benjamin's
+death.
+
+Jane Judd listened with patience and understanding. Here was laid out
+before her the bared heart of the "poor little rich girl." She pieced
+the bits together until she had the whole picture of this odd,
+unnatural, hothouse child--antagonistic to her parents, to her school,
+yet full of feeling, and coming into the age when the emotions play such
+havoc. No wonder she had settled her youthful affections upon Jerry. He
+was so preëminently the type one loves at sixteen, Jane smiled to
+herself.
+
+"Do you think he will marry me?"
+
+"I doubt it."
+
+"Don't you think he loves me?"
+
+"Lots of other women are in love with Mr. Paxton, too," said Jane.
+
+"You just say that to scare me!" cried Isabelle.
+
+So the self-revelation of this young egotist went on and on until sleep
+laid a finger on her lips.
+
+Long after she was silent the older woman lay awake, and thought about
+her, about the conditions in our world that produced her. She was so
+sorry for the child, even while she laughed at the memory of Jerry's
+furious embarrassment, at the mercy of her jejune affections.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jerry arrived early, and Jane and Isabelle parted like old friends.
+
+"Miss Judd is very understanding," remarked Isabelle, en route to the
+school.
+
+"Yes, isn't she?"
+
+"She's not at all snippy like so many people. It's ridiculous to act as
+if it were so clever just to be grown up. It isn't clever; it's only
+luck."
+
+"The luck lies in being young, Isabelle."
+
+"Can't you even _remember_ how you hated being squelched by elders?" she
+inquired.
+
+"Do they ever squelch you, Cricket?"
+
+"You ought to know. You've done enough of it."
+
+"Let's make a new compact. Let's be good pals," he said, heartily.
+
+"I do not want your _friendship_," she answered, coldly.
+
+"O good Lord, you wretched baby!"--irritably.
+
+"It is all right, Jerry. I see that it can never be, but I shall always
+care for you deeply," she said with nobility.
+
+When they came to the school Jerry left her with a deep sigh of relief.
+She certainly was too much for him. He was no longer surprised that Max
+and Wally avoided the problem.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+There certainly was no fatted calf killed for the return of the prodigal
+in Miss Vantine's school. At her reappearance an air of chastened
+endurance settled upon all the teachers from Miss Vantine down to the
+elocution teacher. But their fears were doomed to disappointment,
+because Isabelle was for the time being absorbed in her unrequited love
+affair.
+
+She walked through her lessons like one in a trance; she devoted all her
+leisure, and some of her study hours, to a series of daily letters to
+the object of her passion. Most of these raptures were never to meet his
+eye, but they furnished an outlet for the girl's over-full heart, and to
+the psychologist they would have proved interesting. To her schoolmates
+she was, as ever, an enigma.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Isabelle? Trying to get one hundred in
+deportment?" they teased her.
+
+"I have larger things to think of, than deportment," she answered,
+airily.
+
+"She's in love again," scoffed Margie Hunter.
+
+This was greeted with a deep sigh.
+
+"Who is he, Isabelle?" they demanded.
+
+"He is a great artist whose name is sacred to me."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Intimately."
+
+"And does he care for you?"
+
+"I cannot betray his confidence"--nobly.
+
+"Is he handsome?"
+
+"He is wonderful."
+
+"Not so handsome as Shelley Hull, or Jack Barrymore," they protested.
+
+"Oh, heaps handsomer!"
+
+"Do have him come here. Couldn't we ask Miss Vantine to get him to
+lecture on art?"
+
+"He hasn't time. He goes from function to function. Many women love him,
+he's a great social favourite," boasted Isabelle.
+
+This distinction set her apart as never before. She went among them as
+one baptized with greatness. When in the course of their daily walks
+with a teacher, they encountered a personable young man, Isabelle's eyes
+would never swerve in his direction. When there were midnight spreads,
+Isabelle did not care for food, or she had her letter to write.
+
+"Isabelle, will you marry him as soon as you graduate from here?" Margie
+inquired.
+
+"Oh, no. I expect to spend years at work in the arts before I am worthy
+of him."
+
+"What arts?"
+
+"It is not decided. I may paint, or sing, or act."
+
+"But you haven't any talent for painting or singing."
+
+"You never can tell, Margie. I've had no chance ta show what I can do.
+Besides, I _can_ act."
+
+"I think you're too plain to go on the stage, myself," was the
+withering reply, but it did not wither Isabelle.
+
+"Beauty, my dear, is nothing; Art is everything," was her unassailable
+reply.
+
+So upon the wings of romance Isabelle floated through the spring term.
+She was to spend the summer at an inn in the mountains, as The Beeches
+was not to be opened. Her parents and teachers, encouraged by three
+months of good behaviour, believed that a permanent change of heart had
+taken place in the girl. On the day of her departure, Miss Vantine
+congratulated her upon her improvement, and alluded to the coming year
+as the crown of her achievements. Isabelle smiled politely, for she had
+thoroughly decided in her own mind that this was her farewell to school.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER TWENTY
+
+
+If Max and Wally had ever shown one grain of intelligence in regard to
+Isabelle they never would have taken her to this big, fashionable
+mountain inn where her field of adventure was so greatly enlarged. But
+they never had shown any discrimination in regard to her, so nothing
+could be expected of them at this stage.
+
+Isabelle was a marked figure wherever she went now. She had forcibly
+taken over the matter of her own wardrobe in the spring of this year.
+Max had never made a success of it because she never gave any study to
+the girl's points; she dismissed her as plain, and bought her things
+with indifference.
+
+Now Isabelle had a flair for the odd, and she understood her own
+limitations and her own style. She was small, and slim as a reed,
+without being bony. She had what she called "hair-coloured" hair, and an
+odd face--wide between the eyes, but a perfect oval in shape. Her eyes
+were her only beauty.
+
+Fluffy, young-girl clothes merely accentuated her lack of youthful
+prettiness. With unerring instinct as a child, she had chosen her riding
+clothes to show off in. Now these same clothes formed the basis of her
+system. By day she was always in tailored frocks of the strictest
+simplicity. They were linen, or silk, or wool, made after the same
+model. Slim, tight skirt; slim, fitted coat; sailor hat, and strange
+boots, which she had made to order after her own design. They were like
+short riding boots, pulled on and crumpled over the instep like a glove.
+She was striking, _chic_, a personality.
+
+"By Jove! Isabelle gets herself up smartly, Max," commented Wally, soon
+after their arrival at the inn. Their daughter walked toward them, with
+every eye on the long piazza following in her wake.
+
+"It is too _outrée_, but it is effective. She knows everybody looks at
+her, she intends they shall, but look how the monkey carries it off,"
+laughed Max, struck into a sort of admiration.
+
+"What's doing with you to-day, my noble parents?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. What are _you_ doing?" Wally answered.
+
+"I'm going to ride. I can't stand this clack-clatter," she said,
+indicating the groups on the veranda. "Dull lot, don't you think?"
+
+"Have you met any one yet?" inquired her mother.
+
+"Don't have to. I know what they are by just looking at them."
+
+"L'enfant prodige!" jeered Max.
+
+A tall, very fine-looking man in riding togs passed them, with a swift
+look at Isabelle.
+
+"That's Cartel, isn't it?" Wally asked.
+
+"The actor man?" said Max, looking after him.
+
+"Actor-manager he calls himself now. Good-looking brute, isn't he?"
+answered Wally, idly.
+
+Isabelle seemed oblivious to the whole incident but privately she
+marked Sidney Cartel as her own. She went off, shortly, to change.
+
+"Why don't you ride with her, Wally? She oughtn't to go off around these
+mountains alone."
+
+"Too hot. She can take care of herself."
+
+"Which way did Mr. Cartel go?" Isabelle inquired of the stable groom who
+mounted her.
+
+"Sunrise Trail, Miss," he answered.
+
+Isabelle started off for Sunrise Trail, with the directness of purpose
+which marked all her actions. It was some time before she caught sight
+of him, and to her annoyance she saw he was with a party of friends.
+Whenever the trail permitted he rode beside a certain woman--leaning
+toward her with marked devotion. Isabelle brought up the rear of the
+procession. The others became aware of her, evidently commented on her.
+Mr. Cartel looked back frequently.
+
+When Isabelle came to a place wide enough to turn she retraced her
+steps. She went back to the inn determined to discover who Mr. Cartel's
+special companion was. The groom furnished it, for a price:
+
+"Mrs. Andrews was with him, Miss. She mostly is."
+
+Saturday night was the weekly hop, the most festive occasion of the
+week. Max had given Isabelle orders that she could not sit up for
+dances, as she was still a schoolgirl. The girl made no protest.
+
+"Hops don't interest me," she said, indifferently.
+
+After dinner she took a few turns on the piazza with Wally before she
+went to bed. She wore an odd, white crêpe frock, which hung very close.
+Her hair was bound round her head like a cap.
+
+"Let's sneak in and have the first dance together," said Wally; "Max has
+a beau."
+
+"All right; then I'll skip," agreed Isabelle.
+
+With the first strains of music they swung into a waltz. They danced
+well, and enjoyed it.
+
+"Go to bed," ordered Max as she passed them.
+
+Isabelle saw Mr. Cartel idly glance in, then at sight of her he came to
+the door and watched them.
+
+"Some dance, Miss Bryce. Much obliged. Sorry you have to leave us," said
+Wally as the dance was over.
+
+Cartel strolled off down the hall, and a few seconds later she followed
+him. She saw him saunter into one of the many little rooms used for
+cards, or tea. She noticed it was not lighted and, on the impulse of the
+moment, she stepped in after him.
+
+In a second she was caught and lifted in strong arms. She was kissed
+again and again, while he said laughingly:
+
+"You little devil, you came after all."
+
+"I wonder who you are," said Isabelle sweetly, "and who you think I am."
+
+"Thunder!" said Mr. Cartel, holding her off, and trying to peer at her.
+
+"There must be some mistake," Isabelle suggested. "I will ask you to
+stand just where you are, until I have time to get into the elevator.
+That will save us both any embarrassment."
+
+"But I don't understand," he mumbled. "I do beg your pardon, I
+thought----"
+
+"Give me three minutes; and I rely on you not to peep into the hall,"
+she said, with a chuckle. And was gone, leaving the actor-manager more
+at a loss than such events usually found him.
+
+Now whether Mr. Cartel peeped or not, the next day he recalled a
+previous meeting with Wally, and asked to be presented to his daughter.
+
+"Haven't we met before, Miss Bryce?" he asked, giving her a very special
+look.
+
+"No," she replied, with the faintest suspicion of a taunt in her tone.
+
+"I was under the impression that we had."
+
+"I'm sure I couldn't forget."
+
+"Are you enjoying yourself here?"
+
+"Not especially."
+
+"What do you enjoy, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"Excitement."
+
+"Couldn't we find you some?"
+
+"You might," with the slightest accent on the pronoun.
+
+"Let's try," he countered.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+From that moment he devoted himself to the "little Bryce girl." He rode
+with her, walked with her, talked with her, roared with amusement over
+her _diablerie_, until all tongues clacked about it. Mrs. Andrews left,
+in a huff.
+
+"You've got to stop it, Wally," Max ordered. "Every one is talking."
+
+"How can I stop it? You never should have brought her here."
+
+"Well, I'm not going to leave because she makes a fool of herself, so
+you can just take a hand."
+
+About this time a group of enthusiasts decided to get up an entertainment.
+With fear and trembling they asked the great actor to take part.
+
+"How would you like to act a play with me, Cricket?" he asked her, in
+the tone of a god condescending to mortal.
+
+"It would amuse me," she replied.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"This to the great Cartel!" said he, modestly. "Do you know that the
+finest actresses in America esteem it a privilege to act with me?"
+
+She grinned.
+
+"There are women in this hotel who would give their eyes for the
+chance," he added.
+
+"I need my eyes for seeing my way about," she drawled.
+
+Well as she managed him she was greatly excited at the prospect of
+acting with him. She had a dreadful row with Max and Wally on the
+subject, but she won out, and the announcement was made that the great
+man would put on a Shaw playlet, assisted by the "little Bryce girl."
+
+There followed days of rehearsal and preparation, during which Mr.
+Cartel tried to impress his amateur leading lady, and succeeded not at
+all.
+
+"That's not the way to do it!" he thundered at her repeatedly.
+
+"All right. But that's the way _I_ have to do it. If I'm going to be
+this woman, I have to be her _my_ way, not yours."
+
+So the impudent little baggage faced him out, on his own ground; and he
+was forced to admit to himself that, crude as she was, she managed
+effects.
+
+"You might be able to act some day," he said to her on an occasion.
+
+"Give me a job, and let me try."
+
+"You mean it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But your parents?"
+
+"They'd howl--and give in. They always do."
+
+"H'm--well, we'll see."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The great night came. Needless to say that the Shaw playlet and the
+brilliant Cartel were the events of the occasion. Isabelle was by no means
+obliterated in his shadow. She made a very considerable impression. There
+was a sort of fire about her. Her lines were read, not recited; and Shaw
+is the acid test for the amateur. The performance received an ovation.
+
+"You were quite interesting," Cartel said, sparingly--inspecting her
+with half-closed, speculative eyes.
+
+"Do I get my job?" she inquired.
+
+Later, he spoke to her parents about her talent.
+
+"For goodness' sake, don't tell her," urged her mother.
+
+"You wouldn't let me take her for a season?" he inquired.
+
+"I should say not!" replied Mrs. Bryce, with emphasis.
+
+The fuss that was made over the girl was enough to turn her head
+completely.
+
+"We've got to take her away, that's all," said Wally, a day or two
+later.
+
+"Where?" inquired Max, irritated to brevity.
+
+"I don't know. She gets into trouble wherever she goes. We might open
+The Beeches."
+
+"Well, we won't."
+
+In the meantime Isabelle asked Cartel daily about a job in his company.
+
+"Nothing doing without your parents' consent."
+
+"If I make them consent, do I get it?"
+
+"Possibly; but they won't," he teased her.
+
+"You don't know me," she warned him.
+
+The end of August came, and with it the great man's departure, for
+rehearsals in town. Isabelle was desolated. Her god, her idol, was
+leaving her behind, and only because of those eternal drawbacks--her
+parents. She said her farewell to him demurely, and echoed his hope that
+they would meet soon in town.
+
+"You've made my summer for me, little witch," he said, in an aside.
+
+[Illustration: _"You've made my summer for me, little witch," Cartel
+said_]
+
+He left. There passed three days of utter misery and boredom. Wally went
+to New York on business, and refused to take her along; Max was cross;
+the devil of revolt entered Isabelle.
+
+She wired Cartel:
+
+    Terrible row. Disinherited by parents. Will apply at theatre
+    to-morrow, at ten, for promised job.
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+She sneaked two dress-suit cases on to the hotel baggage 'bus, and she
+took a morning train to New York. Arrived there she wired Max:
+
+    Am going on stage. Useless to try to stop me. Am determined on a
+    career.
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+Max received this message at tea time, as she sat with a group of merry
+idlers on the piazza. She read it--frowned. With an exclamation of
+annoyance she summoned a boy, and wrote as follows to Wally:
+
+    Isabelle has joined Cartel. Catch her and bring her back.
+                                                                    MAX.
+
+"Is anything wrong, dear Max?" inquired her best beau, noting her
+expression.
+
+"Yes," she replied, "but it's chronic in our family!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
+
+
+Isabelle went directly to their town house and demanded a bed of the
+caretaker, who was an old family servant. At ten in the morning she
+presented herself at the stage door of the New York Theatre, and sent in
+a card to Mr. Cartel. Word came out that he had not arrived. She was not
+permitted to go in, and to her great indignation she had to march up and
+down the alley for an hour until the great one came.
+
+At sight of him she felt that all her troubles were at an end. She
+hurried forward with a confident smile, as he stepped from his motor. No
+gleam of delight at the sight of her overspread his features, however.
+He saw her; he bowed.
+
+"Ah--I got your message," he said, absently. "I don't think that there
+is anything for you."
+
+"There's got to be something for me," said Isabelle with promptness and
+vigour. "You let me desert my family for a career, and you've got to
+help me."
+
+"But, my dear girl, I urged you not to break with your family, you
+know."
+
+"It's too late to talk about that. Here I am. Now, what are you going to
+do about it?"
+
+"Well, come in," he said, curtly; and they went into the theatre.
+
+It was Isabelle's first view of the hindside of the mysteries. It was a
+hot day, and rehearsal was in progress. A group of people sat listlessly
+about the stage, on kitchen chairs, while a man in a négligé shirt and
+no coat urged them to get a little "pep" into the scene "for the love of
+God!" Cartel's arrival caused a ripple. All the actors sat up, as if
+electrified. The stage manager advanced at once to speak with him. He
+glanced at Isabelle, but Cartel made no move to introduce them. In fact
+he seemed to have forgotten about her. He issued brief orders, asked a
+few questions, turned to go. Then, as if on an afterthought, he added:
+
+"By the way, Jenkins, this is Miss Isabelle Bryce. Try her out in the
+maid's part, will you?"
+
+Mr. Jenkins nodded to Isabelle, who was furious at her hero for this
+casual treatment of her career.
+
+"Come over here," ordered Jenkins, indicating a chair and offering her a
+script. "Read 'Mary,'" he added, briefly, and went on with the
+rehearsal.
+
+Isabelle was dazed. It was so different from her idea of it. She had
+supposed Cartel would introduce her to the company and the manager as a
+genius he had discovered this summer. She thought she would be made much
+of, as his protégée. Instead of which she was set upon a kitchen chair,
+like a strange kitten, and told to read "Mary." Nobody paid any
+attention to her. They did not even look at her. They went on,
+indifferently, reading their parts, moving here and there on orders from
+Jenkins. Suddenly her name was rapped out:
+
+"Your cue, Miss Bryce."
+
+She fumbled her script, blushed furiously, found the place, and read
+stupidly, beginning with the cue.
+
+" . . . Where is she? Mrs. Horton telephoned she would be here at five,
+sir."
+
+"Well, get up," ordered Jenkins, testily. "You enter R., upper door.
+Come front and answer Horton, who stands L. C. Then you exit L., up
+stage."
+
+They all looked at her now. She felt their impatience, their supercilious
+smiles. She knew she was that leper in the theatre--an amateur. She did
+not know what Jenkins was talking about with his down R's, and his up L's.
+He entered as Mary and showed her the business. She caught the idea at
+once, and he grunted something which might have been approval or a curse.
+The rest of the time she spent in fevered attention to the script, looking
+for the signal, "Mary," but it came no more in that act. They went all
+over it again, and she managed it without a hitch. Then they were
+dismissed until two o'clock, and every one hurried off for lunch.
+
+Isabelle waited, thinking that of course Cartel would ask her to lunch
+with him. But there were no signs of him. She inquired where his office
+was, and ascended the stairs with the intention of expressing her
+dissatisfaction with her part. She stopped outside the door at the sound
+of voices--Cartel's and Wally's. She went in.
+
+"Well!" exploded her father, "so there you are!"
+
+"Good morning, Wally. Max wired you?"
+
+"She did. You will come home with me at once."
+
+"There is no need of our boring Mr. Cartel with our family rows," she
+said, sweetly. "I have no intention of going anywhere with you. I've
+decided upon a stage career, and I'm rehearsing with Mr. Cartel now."
+
+The manager stifled a smile.
+
+"You're not of age, young woman, and you can be _made_ to do things!"
+said Wally.
+
+"Take it to law, you mean? Jail and all that? Public announcement that
+you and Max can't manage me? Stupid, Wally, very stupid."
+
+"You're not through with your education. It will be time enough to
+decide on a career when you finish school."
+
+"I have finished school. That I am determined upon. You may as well face
+it, Wally. I am on the stage, and I intend to stay on it."
+
+"Look here, Bryce, take a word of advice from me. I meet this every day.
+Girls get this germ, and my experience is that it's better to let the
+disease run its course. If you force her to go back to school, she has a
+grievance for life. If she goes back of her own accord, she's cured."
+
+"It's ridiculous! We'd be the laughing stock of the town!"
+
+"Oh, no; it happens in the best families. Believe me, it is not such bad
+training for young women who have never been disciplined--like your
+daughter. She'll get it, in this business. She'll learn to obey orders
+and to respect authority."
+
+"But she's struck on herself now, and if she goes on the stage----"
+
+"Don't bother; we'll take that out of her," remarked Cartel.
+
+Wally looked from Isabelle's set face to the manager's smiling one.
+
+"What is your idea?" he asked.
+
+"Let her try it. Let her live at home. Send her back and forth in your
+car; protect her, of course. But let her have her fling; it won't take
+long," said Cartel, with a wise nod at Wally.
+
+"Try it, Wally, just give me a chance," cried the near actress.
+
+"Your mother will raise the roof!" he began.
+
+"She'll come round, if you back me up."
+
+"I don't know," he said, miserably.
+
+Isabelle flew at him and hugged him wildly.
+
+"Oh, Wally, you're a dear," she cried, thus committing him to partnership.
+
+"We needn't treat Cartel to our family reconciliations," he said.
+
+"Come take me to lunch, then. I have to be back at two. That isn't much
+of a part," she added to Cartel.
+
+"No? Well, we all must begin, you know. That is the first blow to young
+ladies of your proclivities."
+
+He rose, and bowed them out, as sign of dismissal. Wally and Isabelle
+went to lunch, and it took them so long to work out their plans--where
+Isabelle was to stay at present, how the matter was to be presented to
+Max, and such weighty subjects--that Isabelle was late to rehearsal, and
+was sharply reprimanded.
+
+She felt this to be very unjust as her line did not come for a long
+time. At the end of a long, tedious day, she went home to dine in lonely
+state with the caretaker as cook, and to crawl into bed immediately
+thereafter.
+
+Wally managed the situation very well. He made Max see the futility of
+fighting their child; he assured her that Cartel promised that the
+seizure would be brief. He looked up old Miss Watts, and engaged her to
+act as companion to the girl, accompanying her to all rehearsals. They
+were to live in a suite of rooms, opened for them in the house, with the
+caretaker providing their meals.
+
+It was all satisfactory to Isabelle. She remembered Miss Watts with
+pleasure, and she proved an unobjectionable companion. She took a book
+and read during rehearsals. She seemed interested in Isabelle's future.
+
+The career was not exciting so far. The first real event was the day
+Cartel came to rehearsal. Everybody was on tiptoe with excitement. The
+stupid, mumbling thing they called the play suddenly took shape, and
+point, and brilliancy. It infuriated Isabelle that her only chance lay
+in a vagrant, unimportant line here and there, when she knew she could
+play the lead, Mrs. Horton, with a dash and distinction totally lacking
+in the performance of the actress who was to play it.
+
+She told Cartel so, on one of the infrequent occasions when she saw him
+to talk to. He laughed.
+
+"The nerve of you kids!" he said. "You think the Lord has made you an
+actress, don't you? All you need is a chance at a leading part, in order
+to startle New York!"
+
+Isabelle tried to reply, but he swept on.
+
+"This is an Art; you want to desecrate a great, important Art! It takes
+long years of preparation, hard labour, infinite patience, aching
+disappointment; it takes brain, and passion, and intelligence to make an
+actor. Now where do you come in?"
+
+"Well, but you thought this summer----"
+
+"I thought you were a clever little girl doing a sleight-of-hand
+performance," was his crushing answer.
+
+"But----"
+
+"Can you dance? Can you fence? Can you run? Is your body as mobile and
+lithe as an animal's? Do you breathe properly? Can you sing? Is your
+voice a cultivated instrument with an octave and a half of tones, or
+have you five tones at your command? Do you know how to fill a theatre
+with a whisper? Can you carry your body with distinction? Can you sit
+and rise with grace? Is your speech perfect?" He hurled the questions at
+her.
+
+"No," she admitted.
+
+"Then you don't know the a-b-c's of this art. When you can say 'yes' to
+all these questions, then you are ready to begin, and not until then.
+Mind you--to _begin_!"
+
+"But everybody on the stage cannot say 'yes' to all those things."
+
+"No, worse luck! Because soft-hearted fools like me permit crude little
+girls like you to speak a line without any excuse for so doing. We'll
+have no great acting in America until we shut the door upon every boy
+and girl who thinks he can act, by the grace of God."
+
+With this finale, the great man walked away, leaving Isabelle feeling
+very young and very flat. But she rallied presently. Of course, he had
+exaggerated it. It might be that the majority of people had to go that
+long, hard road of preparation, but always there would be some who would
+leap to the top without the ladder. In her deepest, secret heart she
+knew herself to be of that few.
+
+She took up the subject again that very night, after dinner, with Miss
+Watts.
+
+"What do you think is the most necessary thing for success, Miss Watts?"
+
+"Work."
+
+"But in something like the stage, I mean."
+
+"It doesn't make any difference what it is, true success is the result
+of hard work and nothing else," that lady persisted, bromidically
+enough.
+
+"Don't you think it is ever an accident?"
+
+"If it is, it's the worst accident that can happen to you."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because then you have to live up to something you haven't earned. You
+don't know what to do, and in most cases you slump back into mediocrity."
+
+"But there must be some people who don't grind----"
+
+"Geniuses, maybe; but they usually do."
+
+"How do you suppose geniuses recognize themselves?"
+
+"They don't, in most cases."
+
+"But if you felt that you had a great gift, that you were going to do
+wonderful things, mightn't it be that you were a genius?"
+
+"I should say that it meant that you were merely young," smiled Miss
+Watts.
+
+Isabelle decided that doubtless all geniuses met with this lack of
+recognition in those about them. She pinned her faith to herself! In
+spite of Cartel and Miss Watts--who, after all, were _old_--she rather
+thought that on the opening night, when she spoke her lines, few as they
+were, the critics would say simply, in large-type headlines:
+
+"CARTEL HAS FOUND A GENIUS!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
+
+
+October came, dragged by, with the opening night of the play coming
+nearer. Wally induced Max to come to town and open the house. It was a
+cold autumn and nearly all of their friends returned early, too.
+
+"I had hoped that nobody would be in town when this idiot child of ours
+makes her ridiculous début, but now everybody on earth is home. Even the
+weather favours Isabelle's plans," complained Max to her spouse.
+
+"No one need know about it, if we can keep it out of the papers."
+
+"Yes, IF!"
+
+"Better make the best of it. Ask a lot of people to dinner, take all the
+boxes, and make a joke of it."
+
+"Isabelle may make a joke of us," commented her mother.
+
+"She gets away with things," Wally encouraged her.
+
+As for Isabelle, she was bored to the point of despair with her career.
+Day in, day out, she said her stupid lines. If she varied one inflection
+from yesterday's inflection she was reprimanded by Jenkins. Mary and her
+lines were as standardized as Webster's Dictionary, and no original
+turns were to be permitted. Cartel continued distant, every inch a star,
+wrapped in his greatness. The other members of the company paid scant
+attention to her, so she made no friends.
+
+It was all very dull and mechanical. The play started off and ground
+itself through as automatically as a machine. Jenkins ruled like the
+boss of the shop. There was no room for genius.
+
+Just to help herself endure the tedium of eternal rehearsal, Isabelle
+invented an absorbing game. She rewrote the play, in innumerable ways,
+with the plot revolving around Mary as the central figure. Mary was now
+the friend and adviser of Mrs. Horton, now the trusted confidante of Mr.
+Horton. But whichever she was, she was a noble, sublimated creature--no
+possible relation to Mary, the automatic servant. She had long,
+beautiful speeches, interesting and unusual stage business; she wore a
+striking maid's costume, designed by Isabelle. This Mary managed to keep
+Isabelle's imagination awake during the weary weeks in which the other
+Mary walked on and off, with her "Yes, Mrs. Horton," and her "No, Mr.
+Horton."
+
+Suddenly a Sunday Supplement blossomed out with a full-page drawing of
+Isabelle, and the announcement of her coming début on the stage, in Sidney
+Cartel's new production to open on such-and-such a date. Thereafter every
+paper in town blared forth the news of this event. There were full columns
+of talk about the Bryces, their money, their position, Mrs. Bryce's
+beauty, Isabelle's eccentricities. The originality and daring of their
+only child were dwelt upon at great length.
+
+The performance with Cartel at the mountain inn was described. The
+hungry public was told how Cartel had seen her genius at a glance and
+persuaded her parents to let him have the training of her talent.
+Isabelle was snapshotted leaving the theatre, or riding in the Park. She
+was not safe a moment from reporters and camera men.
+
+There was unanimous disapproval of this state of affairs on the part of
+her parents and her manager. It was difficult to tell which was the
+angrier. The Bryces accused Isabelle, but for once she was innocent. She
+had no idea how the reports started. She had talked to nobody. Miss
+Watts corroborated this statement. Neither of them knew when the artist
+made the sketch of her, and they never supposed that the photographers
+were taking her picture.
+
+Cartel was furious. It was not in his plans at all to let this youngster
+take the middle of his stage on the occasion of his New York opening. He
+would have dismissed her at once, had the newspaper talk not gone so
+far. As it was he joined her parents heartily in a determined effort to
+shut them off. But it couldn't be done. Isabelle had caught the public
+eye; she was a marked personality, and editors played her up big.
+
+Secretly she triumphed. It was only the beginning in the inevitable
+recognition of her greatness. It strengthened her belief that she was of
+the elect, and she rarely ever thought of the "Mary" part with which she
+was actually to prove herself, but she hurled herself into the
+development of the other Mary, which should have been hers, by all the
+laws of right. The two creatures merged--were one. Once or twice at
+rehearsal, aroused by her cue from some wonderful scene where Mary held
+the spotlight, she faltered for a second for those barren lines of the
+real Mary.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Miss Bryce? Keep your mind on what you're
+doing," warned Jenkins.
+
+She smiled at him. Poor fool! In a few weeks he would be bragging that
+he stage-managed her first appearance. She could afford to be patient
+with his bad temper, now.
+
+Dress rehearsal was called and became a fevered memory. The day of the
+opening Isabelle spent quietly at home, except for a ride in the Park.
+She was to rest, and have her supper in her sitting room. Wally came in,
+in the midst of her repast, and fussed about her room.
+
+"Aren't you nervous?" he inquired.
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"I am. I'm so nervous I could scream!" he exploded. "I hate all this
+notoriety. They say the house will be packed."
+
+"We always like a full house," she said, serenely.
+
+"Suppose you flunk it!"
+
+"But I won't!"--promptly.
+
+He looked at her uncomprehendingly.
+
+"If you could only be kept in a cage, in the cellar!"
+
+She laughed gaily at that.
+
+"Poor old Wally! Don't fret. You'll be very proud of me some day."
+
+Max floated in.
+
+"I thought I heard laughter."
+
+"You did," Isabelle replied.
+
+"Are you cool enough to laugh?"
+
+"Quite. Wally is the only nervous one. Who is coming to dinner, Max?"
+
+"Eighteen people. Christiansen for one."
+
+"Oh, good!"
+
+"When do you go to the theatre?"
+
+"Seven."
+
+"Come along, Wally, she ought to rest. For all our sakes, Isabelle, keep
+your head and don't make a fool of yourself."
+
+"Much obliged," said Isabelle. "I take it you are wishing me luck."
+
+Wally kissed her cheek, and they went out.
+
+"Poor dears," mused Isabelle, "it will be hard for them to accommodate
+themselves to my importance."
+
+Then she gave herself up to dreams of triumph until it was time to go.
+There was excitement in the air at the theatre. Voices were high, and
+eyes were bright. She was greeted loudly from open doors, as she went to
+her dressing room. Since the papers had boomed her, her position in the
+company had changed. Every one was dressed early and little knots of
+people discussed the big house, the critics, the chances of success for
+the play. It was a "strong" play, and, so far, the season had offered
+only trifles. It was too soon to know yet what the public appetite
+craved.
+
+"You got to change its meat. When it's fed up on crooks, ye got to give
+it sex; when it turns against that, ye got to try comedy. _My_ opinion
+is, this is a comedy season," said the gentleman who played the
+butler--a part even more inconspicuous than Isabelle's. They all
+inquired the state of her pulse, and marvelled at her calm.
+
+"She'll be a hit, or she'll be rotten," was the butler gentleman's
+comment.
+
+"She can't do much in that maid's part."
+
+"_Can't_ she? Remember the time they tried to bury Ethel Barrymore in a
+maid's part, when she was a kid? Took the show right away from John
+Drew!" said the authority.
+
+Finally the curtain was up, and the play was on. Isabelle's initial
+appearance was late in the first act, when Cartel was building carefully
+the foundations of plot for the subsequent superstructure. Isabelle
+entered with a visitor's card in the middle of an important speech by
+Cartel. She had one line. To his intense fury, at sight of her the house
+burst into applause, and he had to halt his oration until she disappeared.
+
+The play was a domestic drama, with the popular old-fashioned man, wed
+to the popular-new-fashioned woman who wants to "live her life." In the
+first act, the husband's point of view and character are expounded and
+contrasted with the woman's.
+
+In a daring second act, the husband--on the casual invitation of an
+acquaintance to come along to a supper party in a certain man's
+rooms--finds his own wife acting as hostess. After the modern manner he
+breaks no furniture, makes no scene; but in tense tones, aside, he
+demands an explanation from her. She promises him an interview at their
+home, the following day, at five. He refuses to wait; she insists. He
+leaves. Events follow rapidly. The host has a stroke of apoplexy and
+dies. A muddle-headed guest summons a police ambulance instead of a
+hospital one. Police arrive, murder is suspected, every one is arrested.
+There is a strong finale, with hints of astounding revelations to
+come--in act three, of course.
+
+The third act opens with a very tense atmosphere. Horton (Cartel), the
+husband--unaware that his wife is under arrest, suspected of murder--comes
+to his home, from the club, where he has spent a sleepless night. It is
+nearly five o'clock, the hour of the interview. Business of excitement,
+pacing, looking at watch. He rings for Mary, who enters.
+
+"Where is Mrs. Horton, Mary?" he asks.
+
+"Mrs. Horton telephoned she would be here at five o'clock, sir," answers
+Mary, who, according to the playwright, then goes out. But Mary did not
+exit.
+
+"She hasn't been home all night, sir," she added suddenly, unexpectedly,
+"and it may be that she is in some trouble."
+
+Cartel turned a fierce frown upon her.
+
+"That will do, Mary," he said, threateningly.
+
+Mary threw herself at his feet.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Horton, don't be hard on her! She may have been misled by this
+man; but at heart she is a good woman--I could swear it."
+
+Cartel was shaking with fury. He leaned over and grasped the prostrate
+Mary by the arm, so hard that he nearly cracked her bones. "Ouch!" she
+cried, "you're hurting me."
+
+The audience slowly grasped the fact that this scene was a surprise to
+Cartel. It was so still you could have heard a sigh. Mary resisted any
+attempt to get her on her feet, and this side of carrying her off Cartel
+was helpless.
+
+"If you'd only make a confidante of me, Mr. Horton, I could be a help to
+you in your hour of need," she cried passionately.
+
+"Get out!" hissed Cartel, _sotto voce_.
+
+"It looks as if she committed that murder, but I have facts to prove
+that she did not."
+
+The rest of the act was devoted to breaking the news of the murder to
+Horton. In one fell line this demon had demolished the play. The
+audience began to titter, to laugh, to roar! Cartel dragged Isabelle to
+the door, and literally flung her forth. But at the expression on her
+face the audience actually shouted with delight, they applauded
+deafeningly.
+
+Cartel acted quickly. He went up stage, turned his back, and looked out
+of a prop. window, for what seemed a lifetime, till the hysterics out in
+front subsided. Finally it was still enough for him to take up the scene
+again. But at the dramatic entrance of his wife, fresh from a night in
+jail, they were off again. Cartel glared at them, and in a shamefaced
+sort of way, they subsided, and the play creaked on, as dead as last
+year's news.
+
+Mary had a later entrance, which Cartel cut, but it necessitated the
+mention of her name, whereupon the monster mirth was loosed again.
+
+Finally the curtain descended upon the tragedy. Mrs. Horton went into
+hysterics, and Mr. Horton, bathed in sweat, went to look for Isabelle.
+
+The company stood about in frightened groups, but he did not see them.
+He threw open her door without so much as a knock upon it, and he
+shouted so you could have heard him in Harlem.
+
+"You little beast! You--you hell-cat! What d'ye mean by spoiling my
+scene like that?"
+
+"Oh, I am so sorry," said Isabelle, "I didn't mean to do it, but I got
+the two Marys all mixed up."
+
+"You're crazy--you're a mad woman! What do you think this will mean to
+me? It means failure--complete failure! I never could get through the
+scene again. It means thousands of dollars, that's what it means.
+Because I let a stage-struck fool like you speak a line! Talk about
+gratitude! You turn and ruin me!"
+
+"But I didn't know----"
+
+"Don't pull that baby stuff!" he shrieked. "You _did_ know. You
+_intended_ to do it all the time. You're so crazy about yourself, that
+you'd murder your own mother to get the spotlight! Get out of here!
+Don't you ever let me see your face again! Don't you ever step in this
+theatre, you dirty spy! Take her away! Take her away!" he raved, now
+entirely beside himself.
+
+Isabelle for once was dumb. Poor, terrified Miss Watts seized her by the
+arm, and dragged her out the stage door, and down the alley.
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
+
+
+Isabelle walked Miss Watts for miles. She would not answer questions,
+nor discuss the events leading up to Cartel's outburst.
+
+"Of course, he isn't a gentleman," was her only remark during the entire
+walk. Poor Miss Watts was utterly in the dark over the whole situation.
+She was sitting quietly in the dressing room, reading the _Atlantic
+Monthly_, under the impression that the play was going nicely, when the
+terrible outbreak of Cartel occurred. One thing she grasped, and that
+was that the girl was suffering, so she let her alone and trudged along
+beside her, as well as she could.
+
+Suddenly Isabelle called a taxi, and ordered the driver to hurry them
+home.
+
+"I won't see the Wallys to-night," she said, as they reached the house.
+"If they're home, you tell them whatever you like."
+
+But the Bryces were not in yet, so Matthews told them. Isabelle rushed
+upstairs, and went to bed, with a brief good-night to Miss Watts. An
+hour later Max snapped on the light in Isabelle's room, and evidently
+spoke to Wally.
+
+"The little beast is asleep!" she said. "Did you ever hear anything
+equal to that?"
+
+Isabelle heard him laugh; the light was turned off, and her parents
+went on their way. They never had any part in her crises. They thought
+this terrible, wracking fiasco was funny! She covered her ears to shut
+out the hideous wild laughing of that audience. She could never forget
+it as long as she lived--that gust of laughter, as if the solid earth
+had begun to rock and roll.
+
+She tried to think back to the beginning of the disaster, but it was all
+hazy in her mind--a chaos of lights, people, applause, excitement--a
+mixture of the rôle she was playing and the one she had made up for
+herself. She could not remember when it was that she began on the wrong
+Mary.
+
+She viewed the ruins of her hopes, lying all about her. She heard Cartel's
+shrieks of rage, and that awful laughing! It was terrible--terrible! And
+nobody would understand. There was nothing for her to do, but die.
+
+She thought back to another time when she had wanted to die, and dear
+Mrs. Benjamin had comforted her. If only she were here now she would
+understand, and help her to face her disgrace. What was she to do? How
+could she live it down? She must hide somewhere. Maybe she ought to
+disappear in the morning, before her parents were awake. That would let
+her out of the much-dreaded interview with them. So with this idea in
+her mind, she fell into troubled sleep, at dawn.
+
+When she woke, it was to broad daylight, and the presence of her father
+and mother.
+
+"Oh!" sighed Isabelle, as her eyes fell on them.
+
+"You've been asleep all day," said her mother. "We thought maybe you'd
+taken something."
+
+"Taken something?"
+
+"Drug, or something."
+
+"Is it late?"
+
+"Four o'clock in the afternoon."
+
+"Oh, and I intended to get away early this morning."
+
+"Get away where?" inquired Wally.
+
+"Anywhere out of sight"--desperately.
+
+He sat on the edge of her bed.
+
+"Look here, kid, just what did happen?"
+
+"You'll never understand, and I'm not going to talk about it," she said,
+sullenly.
+
+"You needn't take that tone," said her mother, sharply. "You've made an
+utter fool of yourself, and of us, too."
+
+"Now, Max, let her alone to-day," Wally protested.
+
+"It's always 'Let her do it her own way,' with you. You backed her up in
+this foolishness. We've had all the publicity I intend to have through
+Isabelle. She will go back to school, and stay in retirement, until we
+are ready to bring her out," said Mrs. Bryce, firmly.
+
+"All I say is that to-morrow is soon enough to take it up with her. The
+kid's had a bad fall, and she needs to get together."
+
+"Yes, she has! She comes home and goes to sleep for sixteen hours, while
+we read the newspapers."
+
+"Newspapers?"
+
+"Column after column of what you did to Cartel's opening. If he doesn't
+sue Wally for a fat sum, I miss my guess."
+
+"What did they say?"
+
+"You can read them for yourself. I intend that you shall. If there is
+any way to cure your conceit, I'd like to see it done," Mrs. Bryce
+continued.
+
+"Plenty of time later," urged Wally, distressed at his daughter's white,
+tragic face. "Did Cartel say anything to you last night?"
+
+Isabelle nodded.
+
+"Dismissed you?"
+
+Again she inclined her head.
+
+"I should hope so," laughed Max, shortly. "Paper says he has gone to
+Atlantic City with a nervous collapse."
+
+"And the play?" Isabelle said.
+
+"Closed. That's what you did. Must have endeared yourself to the
+company."
+
+With a groan, Isabelle turned her face to the wall, and Wally dragged
+Max out of the room.
+
+Later Miss Watts came in to offer tea. The girl refused it, but she
+begged her companion to bring her all the morning papers.
+
+"Wait until to-morrow, my dear," Miss Watts begged, alarmed at the
+change in her.
+
+"No. I want to get it over."
+
+So the papers were brought.
+
+After propping her up on pillows and seeing that she was bodily
+comfortable at least, Miss Watts withdrew. Isabelle began at the beginning
+and read every word about that unhappy opening. The articles were written
+with a jocularity hard to bear. Most of them had graduated out of the
+regular dramatic review columns on to the first page. "HILARIOUS OPENING
+AT THE NEW YORK THEATRE!" "CARTEL'S FIND!" "IMPROMPTU ARTIST MAKES BOW."
+These were some of the captions.
+
+They all developed the story for what it was worth: Cartel's discovery
+of Isabelle at the inn; a few paragraphs about her family; mention of
+the wonderful publicity provided for her; a description of the brilliant
+first-night audience, with the Bryces' distinguished guests in all the
+boxes; Isabelle's reception as the maid. Then followed the plot of the
+play, up to the awful moment when Cartel's "discovery" forgot her lines
+and began to improvise. They painted the star's astonishment and
+subsequent fury. They added speculation as to the real climax of the
+evening which must have taken place back on the stage after the dropping
+of the final curtain. Every article made you hear the uncontrollable
+laughter of the audience.
+
+Isabelle agonized over each one. She raged at the opinion of one
+dramatic critic who said that no doubt Cartel would release Miss Bryce
+on the morrow, but that a dozen managers would step forward to capture a
+young woman of such marked personality, and such a talent for publicity.
+
+Max was right; they were all ruined. She had made the whole family
+ridiculous. She wasn't surprised that Max hated her for it. She deserved
+anything from them now. She lay in bed for several days, scarcely
+touching food, brooding upon her disgrace until she was really ill.
+
+Wally hovered about her, deeply concerned, but not knowing how to
+comfort her. He kept Max out of the room as much as he could. Finally he
+sent for a doctor.
+
+"Perfectly unnecessary," said his wife. "She isn't sick. She's made a
+fool of herself and lost the middle of the stage, so now she goes on a
+hunger strike to work up a little sympathy."
+
+"The kid is suffering, I tell you. She is all broken up over this. I
+think we ought to take her away somewhere."
+
+"You can count me out. I've been dragged home to open this house for her
+convenience. I'm not going off to some empty resort place because she
+needs a change."
+
+The doctor had a talk with Isabelle, told her to cheer up, gave her a
+tonic, agreed with Wally that she needed a change, and went on his way.
+
+Martin Christiansen asked Max about Isabelle and was informed that she
+had the sulks. He asked permission to see her, and he was the first
+visitor admitted to her room. He was shocked at the change in her. She
+was thin, and haggard, and old. Her eyes hurt him. She was sitting up,
+in a big chair, wearing a bizarre Chinese coat, all orange and black and
+gold. She looked any age, an exotic little creature. The hand she
+offered was thin as a bird's claw.
+
+"I've been thinking that you might understand," she said to him, before
+he could speak.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+He drew a chair beside hers and waited.
+
+"You didn't think I forgot my lines, did you?"
+
+"It wasn't like you."
+
+"I didn't. I was bored at rehearsals, and so I made up a wonderful
+Mary-part for myself, a noble character whom every one trusted."
+
+Her eyes were upon his face, and he nodded slowly, hoping that his
+amusement did not leak through his expression.
+
+"Every day, all those hours, I used to be this made-up Mary, and just
+toward the last I got a little wobbly as to which Mary was which," she
+admitted.
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"I knew you would see that. Well, the night of the opening I was so
+excited that I mixed them all up."
+
+She said this with such tragic emphasis that he did not even want to
+laugh.
+
+"How unfortunate!" he exclaimed.
+
+"No, it wasn't unfortunate," she cried; "it was stupid, stupid, stupid!"
+
+"Yes, it was, a trifle," he admitted.
+
+"I thought I was going to be such a success. I just knew I could act.
+Cartel said it would take me years of hard work even to begin to be an
+artist, and I thought I could just show him."
+
+"I think you may be said to have shown him!" Christiansen remarked.
+
+"Yes, I did. I showed him I was a fool. I don't wonder that he nearly
+killed me for it."
+
+"No doubt it was real agony for a man as highly strung as he is. For
+months he had been building a fine house, and in three blows you sent it
+crumbling."
+
+"Oh, don't!" groaned Isabelle.
+
+"I didn't come to reproach you. I came to help. I want to be sure that
+we both understand that you have been to blame in this affair. That
+settled, we'll go on to the next step."
+
+"There isn't any next step. I've disgraced us all."
+
+"Oh, come, it isn't so bad as that. You have given a great many people a
+good laugh, and no doubt they are very grateful to you for it. Now, do
+you want to go on with the stage?--really to study the fine art of
+acting?"
+
+"No! _no! NO!_"
+
+"What are your plans?"
+
+"I haven't any."
+
+"You cannot spend the rest of your life in this room, my child."
+
+"I'd like to."
+
+"There's always something to be made of our tragedies, Isabelle. The
+first thing is to get yourself well again. You're all eyes. It won't do.
+You must go away and get together, and when you come back we will have a
+talk about your work. I'm sure you have talent of some sort, if we can
+just direct it properly."
+
+"I'll never believe in myself again."
+
+He laughed and patted her hand.
+
+"Europe is out of the question. How about Bermuda? Ever been there?"
+
+"No"--indifferently.
+
+"Just the place. Lots doing. Soldiers recuperating, people to watch,
+people to play with. Fine place for you. I'll suggest it to your
+parents."
+
+He rose and took her two small hands.
+
+"You promise me to get well, and to come back your old vivid self?"
+
+"I'll try. You _are_ a comfort. You helped that other time, too, when
+the guillotine nearly broke Tommy Page's neck."
+
+He threw back his head and laughed so heartily at the memory, that she
+laughed too.
+
+"I've always been rather ridiculous, haven't I?" she asked him.
+
+"My child, that is an elderly remark," he said, and he left her--on the
+whole, cheered.
+
+He promptly made his suggestion to the Bryces. It was discussed pro and
+con and then finally it was decided to ship the girl off, in Miss
+Watts's care, for it was evident that she was making herself ill with
+the humiliation of her failure.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+So, one day in November Wally saw them off.
+
+"You look like a Brownie," he said, as he kissed Isabelle good-bye. "For
+goodness' sake, get some flesh on your bones."
+
+"Don't worry, old thing," she answered. "I'll come back fat, and
+chastened in spirit."
+
+He grinned, and ran for the gangway, and stood waving and smiling as the
+steamer slipped from the pier.
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
+
+
+The two travellers settled themselves and took stock of the passengers
+in the casual way of those who go down to the sea in ships. Miss Watts
+was prepared to have Isabelle throw herself into the activities of the
+brief voyage, in order that she might forget her troubles. She did just
+the opposite. She lay in her chair, reading or contemplating the sea;
+she marched the deck in absent-minded solitude. Miss Watts was the only
+person she spoke to, or permitted to speak to her.
+
+But her odd face, her unusual clothes, and her great _hauteur_ marked
+her at once in the eyes of the idlers who sat on deck and gossiped. She
+was soon identified as the heroine of the Cartel opening. Speculation
+and much interest followed her.
+
+The second day out the chair to the right of Isabelle was occupied for
+the first time. A cursory glance was enough to assure her of the
+following facts: he was handsome "as an army with banners"; he wore an
+English officer's uniform; and he was very pale. She decided to have
+another look in a moment.
+
+She settled herself comfortably--aware that his eyes were upon her--and
+opened her book, with an air of great detachment. Miss Watts was not on
+deck at the moment. It was some time before she got another chance to
+look at him unobserved. She saw that he had crinkly hair and a
+ridiculous little moustache, twisted at the tips. He had his eyes
+closed. He certainly was white, but one strong, lean, brown hand lay on
+his lap, giving her a feeling of relaxed power. His eyes opened
+unexpectedly, and she had to return to her book in haste. His eyes were
+very blue and she thought there was a smile in them.
+
+Miss Watts's arrival interrupted this interchange, if it was an
+interchange. But in a few minutes another officer came to chat with the
+invalid.
+
+"Hello, Larry, old man, how are ye?" he inquired.
+
+"I'm fairly fit to-day, thanks."
+
+"Glad you can be on deck."
+
+"Rather. I thought I'd croak in that hole of a stateroom."
+
+"Lot of people aboard we know. Mrs. Darlington, for one. Remember her in
+London?"
+
+"Rather."
+
+"She's dying to see 'dear old Larry.' Sit tight, she's on her way now,"
+he added, in a lower voice.
+
+Isabelle permitted herself a look. A tall, handsome woman was coming
+down the deck, with a swaying sort of walk that was fascinating. She was
+very smartly turned out. A rather fat man, with prominent eyes,
+accompanied her. They stopped beside Larry's chair, and she exclaimed
+enthusiastically:
+
+"How are you, old dear? They would not let me into your stateroom, or I
+should have been holding your hand, and giving Mrs. Grundy a treat."
+
+"Larry" got to his feet and accomplished a gallant bow.
+
+"Awf'lly good of ye," he said, smiling, holding her hand in his.
+
+"You know Monty Haven, don't you? Captain Larry O'Leary, Monty, and
+Major O'Dell."
+
+So his name was Larry O'Leary, mused Isabelle. She liked its softness on
+the tongue.
+
+"Does your wound trouble you, you brave thing?" Mrs. Darlington purred.
+
+"Oh, no. Coming all right. It's nothing."
+
+"Nothing? Do you know what this wonderful creature did, under fire and
+all, Monty?" she demanded.
+
+"O kind and beautiful lady, spare me blushes. I'm after being Irish and
+susceptible to flattery," he cried.
+
+"Larry, you old heart-breaker, don't look at me in that wistful Celtic
+way," she commanded.
+
+"Mrs. Darlington, dear, ye may as well resign yersilf to bein' looked
+at," he retorted.
+
+"It is good to hear your blarney and your brogue, Larry. By the way, old
+Mrs. Van Dyke is aboard and demands a sight of you."
+
+"Does she now? Come along and let's pay our respects to the old lady."
+
+She put her hand through his arm, and they sauntered off, with the other
+two men in their wake.
+
+"Handsome woman, wasn't she?" Miss Watts remarked.
+
+"No. I don't like that type. She struck me as _bold_."
+
+Captain Larry O'Leary was the spoiled and petted darling of the boat.
+The tale of his gallant action under fire, of his wounds, of his
+decoration for valour, was passed from mouth to mouth, and lost nothing
+in the retelling.
+
+The men liked him because he was a simple, modest chap, in spite of it
+all. The women followed him around like a cloud of gnats. He jollied
+them all from old Madam Van Dyke, who was seventy, to the smallest girl
+child on the boat.
+
+He looked like a hero out of a fairy book. He had a rollicking,
+contagious laugh, and a courteous heart toward every one. At the ship
+concert for the benefit of wounded soldiers, he sang the songs of the
+trenches, and the marching songs of the Irish troops, the English and
+the French, in a clear baritone voice. There is no hope of disguising
+the fact that Larry O'Leary was too good to be true. Like the star in
+the melodrama, he was 99 per cent. hero.
+
+His only rival for the centre of the stage on the brief voyage was
+Isabelle. At first she kept to herself, because she was ill, and wanted
+to be alone. But after a bit she grasped the fact that her aloofness was
+a sensation, and she was not too ill to enjoy that. Her perambulations
+about the deck were watched with undiminished interest. Everybody knew
+everybody else. There were dances, and games and knitting contests, but
+to all invitations Isabelle replied in the negative.
+
+"Why don't you talk to some of these people, Isabelle? They seem very
+pleasant," Miss Watts said.
+
+"Oh," sighed the girl, "they bore me."
+
+Captain O'Leary had made several attempts to get an opening to speak to
+her in the afternoon, but she had successfully evaded them. Mrs.
+Darlington in search of the bonny Captain spoke to her.
+
+"Your handsome neighbour isn't on deck?"
+
+"Isn't he?" said Isabelle. "I hadn't noticed."
+
+Mrs. Darlington stared, laughed, retreated and the story went the
+rounds. It amused O'Leary, and it also piqued him. He was used to being
+noticed by ladies in his vicinity. He made up his mind that he would
+make that girl look at him. He intended to lay siege to Miss Watts, but
+he came upon Isabelle unattended, in deep contemplation of the sea, and
+he promptly sat down beside her.
+
+"I beg pardon, Miss Bryce, but are you Irish?" he said deliberately.
+
+She turned big, enquiring eyes upon him.
+
+"No. Why?"
+
+"I thought nobody could be as sad as you look except an Irishman."
+
+"I'm not Irish," she said, and returned her gaze to the sea.
+
+"I am," he exclaimed.
+
+No answer.
+
+"We're very sensitive to--to rebuffs."
+
+"I suppose so. You were shot in a rebuff, weren't you?" she said,
+politely.
+
+His laugh rang out at that.
+
+"Yes, but we're not so sensitive to a rebuff from guns as we are to a
+rebuff from ladies."
+
+"No?"
+
+"Have ye taken an unconquerable dislike to me, Miss Bryce?" he begged.
+
+"I think you're very--pleasant," admitted Isabelle.
+
+"Couldn't ye take a lesson from me?"
+
+"You think I'm unpleasant?"
+
+"I think your heart is as hard as the rocks in Flodden Field," he
+exclaimed.
+
+"Being pleasant hasn't anything to do with your heart," was her calm
+reply.
+
+"Hasn't it? Ye think I can be as pleasant as I am, and still have a
+hard, black heart?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"So you don't like me?" he persisted.
+
+"Yes, rather. But I'm a little tired of heroes just now," was her reply.
+
+"I'm afraid I don't qualify," he said curtly, "but as a possible
+nuisance I'll take mesilf off."
+
+He rose. He stopped behind her chair and leaned over her to say:
+
+"That rebuff, ye spoke of, in France. After all, it was an amateur
+affair, as rebuffs go."
+
+With which he marched off down the deck, his head very high in the air.
+Miss Watts sat down beside Isabelle with a quick glance at her.
+
+"Weren't you talking to Captain O'Leary?"
+
+"He talked to me."
+
+"Isn't he charming? All the women are so excited about him."
+
+"That's what's the matter with him."
+
+"Is he conceited?"
+
+"Fearfully!" quoth Isabelle.
+
+She went over that interview dozens of times. Of course he would never
+look at her again. She remembered how Mrs. Darlington purred over
+him--how Madam Van Dyke patted him. That was the way to make him like
+you, but she had scratched and spit at him, like an angry kitten. She
+couldn't imagine why she had acted like that. She admired him immensely.
+He was more attractive than Jerry Paxton or Sidney Cartel or any man she
+had ever loved, and yet--she had deliberately made him hate her. Well,
+anyhow, she liked the idea of her heart being as hard as the rocks in
+Flodden Field. It had an important sound. He could never say that to the
+gushing Mrs. Darlington, or any of the other women who ran around after
+him.
+
+So she closed the chapter of their acquaintance on the boat, but she
+worked out a scene or two at Bermuda, including an aeroplane flight in
+which he and she were lost in the clouds. On the whole she preferred the
+things she made up to the things that happened.
+
+As they neared the Islands the weather grew warmer. White clothes
+appeared on deck. Captain O'Leary appeared in an undress uniform that
+caused a flutter in feminine hearts. The night of the day of her
+encounter with her hero was stuffy and very hot.
+
+Isabelle was restless and wakeful. She tossed and turned and tried to
+banish all thoughts of the Irishman, but it was no use. She leaned out
+of her upper berth to gaze down upon the sleeping features of Miss
+Watts.
+
+"How wonderful to be so old that you don't care about handsome
+Irishmen!" mused Isabelle.
+
+A few minutes later she decided that, unless she had some air, she
+would perish. She made a most careful descent from her perch, without
+waking her companion. She opened the door cautiously, and put her head
+out. It was a trifle cooler in the passageway. Her watch reported three
+o'clock. There would be no one awake at that hour.
+
+She put on her slippers, and the tight little orange-and-black Chinese
+cloak. She left the door open, and went into the corridor. She walked up
+and down, up and down, trying to believe that she was cooler. It was
+rather spooky! Several stateroom doors stood open, and the sound of
+sleepers--breathing evenly, or snoring--came to her as she passed.
+
+Finally she turned in at her own door, slipped off the Chinese coat, and
+laid it across the chair. She moved very quietly not to disturb Miss
+Watts. She put her foot on the extreme edge of the lower berth to mount,
+when the boat rolled and threw her off her balance. To save herself from
+falling, she put out her hand; it descended upon the upturned face--it
+should have been the face of Miss Watts, but it was not. Her hand fell
+upon a moustache! With one bound Isabelle was out of the door, into the
+passageway, and into the next open door.
+
+"Miss Watts!" she gasped.
+
+"Yes, what is it?"--sleepily.
+
+"Oh, nothing. I went out to get a breath of air. I left the door open,
+but I wasn't just sure----"
+
+She was climbing up into her berth during this explanation. Suddenly a
+hideous thought caused her to collapse on the edge of her bed--she had
+left her Chinese coat behind!
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
+
+
+The day after the loss of her Chinese coat was the last day at sea. They
+were to land sometime in the morning. When she woke from her troubled
+dreams, Isabelle's thought was that she would stay in her stateroom
+until it was time to disembark. She could not decide whether to tell
+Miss Watts the story of her mistake and ask her advice, or whether it
+was sufficiently disgraceful to be kept a secret.
+
+She reviewed it for the thousandth time,--the open doors, all alike, the
+entrance into the wrong one, her leisurely disposal of her coat, and
+then her hand planted firmly in the middle of that strange face--that
+moustached face! Could he have seen her and recognized her in the moment
+she stood before him? It was dark in the room, except for a dim light
+from the corridor. Was there anything about the coat which could
+identify her? Should she give the stewardess twenty-five dollars and
+tell her to get it, and answer no questions? But how would she explain
+its being in that room? It was simple enough to her, how it got there,
+but you never could tell how other people would take a thing. She
+decided to let the coat remain, and tell no one of the incident.
+
+But granted that there was no way for the man to identify her, why need
+she hide? It was a beautiful warm day and the cabin was stuffy. No, she
+would go forth and count the number of men aboard who wore moustaches.
+
+_He wore one!!!_
+
+It flashed into her mind in italics! Captain Larry O'Leary wore one!
+Suppose . . . ! She blushed at the thought, and began hurriedly to
+dress. Miss Watts had already gone forth for a promenade before
+breakfast. Arrayed in one of her white linen suits and a close boyish
+white hat, Isabelle fared forth to join her companion. But half way down
+the deck, she hesitated, for her companion was already companioned. None
+other than the gallant Captain O'Leary strode the deck by her side.
+Before Isabelle could flee, they turned suddenly and saw her. They came
+toward her. Two feet from where she stood, the Captain halted, bowed,
+said audibly:
+
+"Thus far, and no farther, Miss Watts. Here lies the safety line." He
+indicated an imaginary line with an immaculate boot.
+
+Miss Watts looked her surprise.
+
+"You know Captain O'Leary, Isabelle? Surely I saw you talking. Miss
+Bryce, Captain O'Leary."
+
+He bowed gravely.
+
+"Miss Bryce," he said, formally.
+
+"Captain O'Leary," she replied, looking intently at his moustache.
+
+He passed his hand over his face slowly with inquiry in his eyes.
+
+"I beg your pardon," mumbled Isabelle, blushing.
+
+"I know. I remind ye of somebody. I always remind everybody of
+somebody," he added, with his pleasant suggestion of brogue.
+
+Isabelle seized upon the opportunity.
+
+"You do, rather. Isn't he like Patsy Reilly, the gardener's boy at The
+Beeches, Miss Watts?"
+
+"Why no!" exploded Miss Watts. "Certainly not."
+
+The Captain laughed.
+
+"I told ye so. Mine is the universal physiognomy! Stuffy night, wasn't
+it?" he added, changing the subject abruptly.
+
+Isabelle glanced at him quickly.
+
+"I didn't find it so," she said. "Coming to breakfast, Miss Watts?"
+
+"Yes. Walk round the deck with us once, as an appetizer?"
+
+"No, thanks. I'm famished."
+
+"Miss Bryce would rather devour an Irishman as an appetizer before
+breakfast. 'Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Irishman'."
+
+"I'd prefer an Englishman, or a German!" retorted Isabelle, as she
+nodded and led the way to breakfast.
+
+She pondered his remark about the stuffy night with a fluttering heart.
+Did he know? Did he suspect her? She watched men with moustaches, and
+tried to listen to their conversation. There were a good many English
+officers aboard with the regulation hirsute adornment of the upper lip.
+True to our custom of following English fashions, more than half the
+American men aboard had diminutive twisted affairs on the upper lip.
+There was no use trying to identify "the man" by the moustache. She
+listened for conversation verging upon the Far East--incidentally
+Chinese embroideries--but in vain.
+
+She watched her chance when no one was about, to consult the ship
+register to see what men were in that corridor. She discovered five
+English officers were in that tier. In short they arrived, and
+disembarked without Isabelle finding a single clue to the gentleman who
+had her treasured coat.
+
+Captain O'Leary was civil about their baggage, and getting them a
+vehicle to go to the hotel.
+
+"Are ye sure that ye have everything that belongs to ye?" he inquired,
+his eyes on Isabelle.
+
+What did he mean? Did he mean anything except what he said?
+
+"Yes, thanks," replied Miss Watts. "So glad you are staying at our
+hotel. We'll see you later," she added, and they rode off, leaving him
+smiling after them, bare-headed in the sunlight.
+
+"Most charming man I ever met!" exclaimed Miss Watts.
+
+"Umm-m," said Isabelle.
+
+It was like a miracle to step out on to the terrace of the hotel, after
+dinner that night. To have left New York on a cold, raw fall day, and in
+two days to find oneself in this warm, odorous night air. The band
+played, and white-clad figures walked, danced, sat in groups over
+coffee. Everywhere relaxed, happy, laughing people.
+
+It was not the season on the island but so many English officers came to
+recuperate here, so many Americans, shut out of Europe, came down from
+New York for a week or so, that it was unusually gay.
+
+Mrs. Darlington and Captain O'Leary were dancing when Miss Watts and
+Isabelle entered the large gallery at the edge of the platform. Mrs.
+Darlington was regal in evening dress, and the pair attracted much
+attention as they danced. The Captain bowed as he passed and evidently
+spoke to his partner about them, for she glanced back at them. She
+shrugged her shoulders, and he led her in their direction.
+
+"Lovely night, isn't it? Mrs. Darlington, Miss Watts and Miss Bryce," he
+said.
+
+"I tried to meet Miss Bryce on the boat, but she snubbed me," laughed
+Mrs. Darlington, making Isabelle feel very young and crude.
+
+Isabelle frowned and made no denial, so Captain O'Leary remarked:
+
+"Do you disdain the dance, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Would you honour me?"
+
+Isabelle glanced at Miss Watts, who looked uncomfortable.
+
+"Isabelle is not out yet. Her mother wishes her to be inconspicuous
+here," she began.
+
+"Imagine Isabelle inconspicuous," laughed Mrs. Darlington again.
+
+Isabelle decided that she hated her!
+
+"But it's different out here--it's not a ball room, ye know. It's just
+dancin' round," said the Irishman.
+
+"Yes, that's true. Oh, I think it would be all right," agreed Miss
+Watts, unable to deny him the moon, if he asked for it.
+
+"The next then, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"Thank you," she said.
+
+He went away with his partner, who was decidedly bored with the
+conversation.
+
+"Surly little thing," she remarked, audibly.
+
+"She is certainly a beautiful woman," Miss Watts remarked, looking after
+them.
+
+"Beautiful? Oh, yes, if you like a vamp."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"Vampire; you see them in movies."
+
+"Isabelle!" protested the older woman.
+
+They strolled about, drank in the rich tropical perfume of the night, and
+looked off to where the sea lay--huge, mysterious, and musical--lipping
+the beach. There was a moon and the stars hung low and yellow in a deep
+blue velvet sky.
+
+The band swung into a waltz, and the dancers began to revolve.
+Isabelle's heart beat an extra tap or two. She saw Captain O'Leary's
+closely cropped head in the distance. He caught sight of her, and
+hurried toward them with that swinging, marching gait of his. He bowed
+and offered his arm. Isabelle took it in silence and they went to the
+dancing floor.
+
+She looked like a little girl in her straight white gown, and the top of
+her head came well below his shoulder. They glided off without a word.
+The Captain was an accomplished dancer, also he danced because he loved
+it. In the same way it was speech to Isabelle; it expressed her, it was
+a natural gift. They were like one person, moved by one will. Encore
+followed encore. Only once was a word exchanged between them; and then,
+as they waited for the music to begin again, she lifted shining eyes to
+his, and he leaned toward her quickly:
+
+"Ye little moonbeam!" he said, softly.
+
+Then they went on again. Time and space were not, for Isabelle. She was
+a part of elemental Nature--a part of sea and sky and deep bosomed
+tropical night. Even as Larry O'Leary had said, she was a child of the
+lady moon, a beam of her silver light.
+
+When, finally, it was over, they found Miss Watts waiting for them, a
+few steps away.
+
+"Here I am," she said, in her usual voice, as if the whole world had not
+changed its face. "You had a nice long dance, didn't you?"
+
+"Wonderful!" said the Irishman, in a voice that thrilled. "Now we're
+getting acquainted," he added, bending down to Isabelle. "I thank you,
+Miss Moonbeam," he whispered.
+
+Isabelle smiled at him. She had not said one word since he led her
+forth. She felt a little dizzy with everything. Speech was unnecessary.
+He left them, then, and Miss Watts smiled at her.
+
+"Did you enjoy it, Isabelle?" she asked pleasantly.
+
+"No!" flashed the girl, unexpectedly. "I am going to bed."
+
+"That's sensible. We will enjoy our sleep to-night in a real bed."
+
+But Isabelle was not thinking of sleep!
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
+
+
+The next morning floated in upon Isabelle's senses, warm and fragrant.
+She felt that this was to be one of the most important days of her life.
+She loved and she was loved at last! It never entered her head that
+there could be any doubt of Captain O'Leary's feelings for her. He had
+called her, tenderly, "little moonbeam," and in one long rapturous dance
+it had come to them that the meaning of life was love.
+
+She dressed in a daze of happiness, in the knowledge that presently she
+was to see him again. How would they meet? Where? What would the odious
+Darlington woman say when she knew that "the surly little thing" had
+captured her captain?
+
+She took great pains with her toilet, stared at herself long in the
+glass. She wished she were beautiful, like Mrs. Darlington, or Max. He
+deserved the most radiant creature in the world! How could he care for a
+plain mite like herself? _Did_ he?
+
+In a sudden collapse into deep depression she sought Miss Watts and
+hurried her downstairs. No signs of him in the breakfast room. Later she
+led Miss Watts up and down every veranda, but a complete survey of the
+grounds brought no results.
+
+"We ought not to exercise so violently right after breakfast, Isabelle.
+Let us sit down in the shade for a little."
+
+Isabelle agreed; it did not matter to her what they did just now, and
+these seats gave a view of every one who came out of the hotel.
+
+"What shall we do to-day?" inquired Miss Watts.
+
+"Oh--I don't know"--indifferently.
+
+Some people were coming out now. A tall woman, a girl, and a boy. The
+girl stared at Isabelle and then advanced.
+
+"Aren't you Isabelle Bryce?" she asked.
+
+"Why, Agnes Pollock!" exclaimed Isabelle.
+
+Introductions and explanations followed. The girls had known each other
+at Hill Top School. Agnes was convalescing from an appendicitis
+operation. She was with her mother and her brother, who greeted Isabelle
+cordially.
+
+"Heard a lot about you!" said Percy Pollock, who was a beautiful blond
+person, slightly older than the girls. "You were the terror at Hill Top,
+weren't you?"
+
+"I didn't have much chance. I was only there one year," laughed
+Isabelle.
+
+"I hope you'll wake up this dull isle," said he.
+
+"Dull?" cried Isabelle, blushing furiously at her tone.
+
+They all sat down together, in the aimless way of holiday makers, but
+Isabelle's eyes were ever on the door. Where was the man? Did he lie
+abed all morning? And such a morning!
+
+"Isabelle, let's go for a walk down the beach. I've such heaps to tell
+you about Hill Top."
+
+"Good idea," said Percy, promptly.
+
+"Not you. Just Isabelle and me. We want to talk."
+
+"I--think I won't this morning. I--I'd rather not," began Isabelle.
+
+Then she stopped short. He, the Son of the Morning, was coming forth.
+She scarcely noticed that Mrs. Darlington was with him. Her face was
+suddenly so radiant that the others turned to look. He saw them. Now he
+would come to her--show them how it was between them!
+
+But he did no such thing. He bowed, a trifle absently, and passed within
+a few feet of them--near enough for them to hear him say:
+
+"Paula, ever young and ever fair!"
+
+They also saw the ravishing look she threw him.
+
+"What a handsome man!" exclaimed Agnes.
+
+"Lady-killer, I bet you," jeered Percy.
+
+"Come on, Agnes, let's go for that walk on the beach," cried Isabelle.
+
+She started off almost before any one understood her purpose.
+
+"Hi there! are you trailing me behind?" called Percy.
+
+"No," said Isabelle, shortly.
+
+Agnes hurried after her, and when they had tramped the beach for a
+while, they sat down in the sand. Agnes remembered that Isabelle was
+"queer," but there was something passionate about the way she threw
+herself into their reminiscences, that struck her as unnecessary. They
+spoke of Mrs. Benjamin, with tears on Agnes's part. She told of Mr.
+Benjamin's pitiful efforts to go on with the school. He had been forced
+to give up the struggle, and Agnes lamented the necessity of going to a
+new school when she returned to New York.
+
+"Now tell me about you," she demanded. "Why are you out of school?"
+
+"I hated the school they sent me to last year, so this year I struck and
+went on the stage for a while."
+
+"Why, Isabelle Bryce!" cried her friend, thrilled to the bone.
+
+"But I didn't like it; it made me sick. So I, too came down here to get
+well."
+
+She evaded questions on the subject of her stage career, and after some
+desultory talk they went back to the hotel. People were strolling to the
+beach for the bathing hour.
+
+"Let's find Percy and go in," said Agnes.
+
+Isabelle, having agreed to meet them on the beach, hurried off to
+change. Miss Watts went down to the sea with her; she did not wait for
+Agnes and Percy. She struck out for the farther raft. There was one a
+hundred feet from shore, and one farther out, for expert swimmers. She
+had just passed the former when she became aware of some one in her
+wake, some one coming with speed. She slowed up a little.
+
+"What do ye mean by swimmin' off alone like this?" demanded a well-known
+voice. She made no answer, but she did not increase her speed. He came
+up beside her. "This is plain childish folly, that's what it is," he
+blustered.
+
+Isabelle rolled on her back and smiled faintly at the sky.
+
+"Ye ought to be spanked, ye little devil."
+
+"Some people are good at calling names," she remarked to the sky.
+
+"I'm tellin' ye it's dangerous for you to start off for that far raft
+alone."
+
+"Well, I'm asking you what business it is of yours?"
+
+"Do ye want me to stand by and see ye drown yerself?"
+
+"It's my privilege to drown myself if I like," she replied, as she
+struck off for the raft again. They swam to it in silence, and she
+pulled her slim satin body, like a shining eel, up onto the platform. He
+followed.
+
+"You're a very disturbin' young person!" he said, sternly.
+
+She lifted her eyebrows at him, with a baby stare. He looked away with a
+frown.
+
+"Where is 'Paula! ever young and ever fair'?" she inquired. "Is she
+displaying herself on the beach?"
+
+He grinned.
+
+"Not she. Paula is a very clever woman--she knows her own limitations,"
+he replied. "Hello! here comes somebody."
+
+It proved to be Major O'Dell, the man who had looked after Larry on
+shipboard. He glared at them and climbed aboard the raft.
+
+"Larry, ye fool, what do ye mean by takin' such a swim as this on yer
+first day?" he demanded, hotly.
+
+"I came to rescue this young mermaid," he answered.
+
+"It's damfoolishness--that's what it is. I beg yer pardon, Miss--Miss----"
+
+"Bryce" from Larry.
+
+"This man is here convalescing, and it is folly for him to over-exert
+himself in any such manner," he scolded her.
+
+"I didn't invite him to come," said she. "He forced his society on me.
+Now that you're here to tow him in, I'll leave him to you," she added;
+and with that she dived off.
+
+"Wait a minute. Major O'Dell wants to rest," cried the Captain.
+
+"Let him. Let him rest a month," came back the answer, as the shining
+head turned toward the distant shore.
+
+"I've got to go after her, O'Dell. It isn't safe," protested Larry.
+
+"Who appointed you her nurse?"
+
+"Damn it! man, the child might drown."
+
+He went overboard and started after Isabelle. O'Dell, with a
+far-from-pretty word, followed. In some such procession they finally
+arrived at the beach. Isabelle stepped forth, shook her slim black
+self, ran up the beach and back like a colt, and joined Miss Watts,
+sedate as a debutante. Captain O'Leary approached them.
+
+"Miss Watts," said he, "it is none of my affair, of course, but if you
+have any authority over this young woman, you will forbid her to swim
+alone to the farther raft."
+
+Isabelle grinned at him, but he frowned and walked away without another
+word.
+
+Isabelle spent the rest of the day near the hotel that she might be at
+hand if he came out, but there were no signs of him. Percy Pollock had
+introduced two boys, who urged the girls on all sorts of expeditions,
+but Isabelle was adamant. She could not bother with boys if there was
+any chance of another encounter.
+
+Major O'Dell came out on the terrace, saw her, and strolled over.
+
+"May I speak to you, Miss Bryce?"
+
+She joined him and they walked over to a seat by a wall.
+
+"I wish to apologize for being so short-tempered this morning," he
+began.
+
+"Yes, you were," she replied.
+
+"Captain O'Leary has been in bed since that junket you took him on this
+morning."
+
+"I didn't take him," said she, "he came."
+
+"He is in no condition to endure such a strain. I ask you not to let him
+do such a thing again."
+
+"I'm not his mother," she burst out. "He is old enough to take care of
+himself and I do not intend to act as his trained nurse."
+
+She looked--and sounded--so young that Major O'Dell laughed.
+
+"All right. I'll tell him. You were on our boat, weren't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you travel much, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"Oh, not much. Why?"
+
+"Have you ever been in the Far East?"
+
+She glanced at him quickly. He was twisting the ends of his little
+moustache and gazing off to sea. Heavens! was this the man? She had
+almost forgotten the Chinese coat in the emotions which had swept her
+since landing.
+
+"The Far East?" she managed to repeat with a semblance of indifference.
+
+"Yes, the Philippines, Japan, or China."
+
+"No, I've never been there."
+
+"Um. You should go. Full of treasures, jewels, embroideries, brocades--all
+the things that women like"--he continued, looking directly at her.
+
+"So?" queried Isabelle, obviously bored.
+
+"I'm afraid I am keeping you from your friends. So I'm to look elsewhere
+for a nurse for Captain O'Leary?"
+
+"Why don't you try Mrs. Darlington?" she inquired. Then with a nod, she
+went back to her playmates.
+
+An hour or so later a group of people, Mrs. Darlington among them, took
+a near-by table for tea. Major O'Dell and Captain O'Leary, the latter
+looking very white, came out and joined them. They did not look in her
+direction until she heard Mrs. Darlington remark:
+
+"Larry, just see what a collection of little boys your ugly duckling has
+made."
+
+At this they all looked. Isabelle glanced at her little boys, and said
+something that made them shout with laughter. But it was not so loud but
+that the wind carried her his reply:
+
+"She's not _my_ ugly duckling. She's a wicked little leprechaun, born
+under a mushroom, on a black night, but she swims like a fish, and
+dances like a pixie. I tell ye she's not human at all at all!"
+
+She heard their laughter, and her eyes smarted. What a fool he had made
+of her! How she despised herself. There was only one way to square it,
+to get back her self-respect. She would find out what a leprechaun
+meant, and she would bedevil the honourable Captain O'Leary, like the
+pixie that he named her!
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
+
+
+Bright-coloured days followed, like beads slipping along a thread.
+Isabelle did not formulate any plan of bedevilment for the Captain, but
+she watched for opportunities with lynx-eyed attention.
+
+She and Agnes were very intimate, and while Isabelle was not given to
+confidences, she allowed her friend to see that there was something
+between her and the handsome O'Leary--a sort of flirtatious feud. Agnes
+adored him from afar, and envied the other girl her power to attract
+him. She did not understand just what Isabelle wanted of him, but she
+stood ready to help her get it.
+
+Early in their friendship Agnes had fired Isabelle with a new zeal. She
+told her about the wonderful patriotic work to be done by writing
+letters to soldiers, who had no relatives, and to keep them cheered up.
+She, Agnes, had become _marraine_ to half a dozen Frenchmen; she
+considered them more exciting than plain English "Tommies" or American
+"Sammies." Besides, it was good practice for your French. You made them
+presents, sent cigarettes and candy, and they sent you back the most
+thrilling letters.
+
+Agnes displayed some of hers, in confidence, and at once Isabelle felt
+the call of duty to rescue a French soldier. She could not wait to go
+through with the formality of applying to the organization in charge of
+this work, for names of the letter-needy; instead, she borrowed two from
+Agnes. She chose the two who wrote the most picturesque letters and
+"adopted" them at once.
+
+Together they worked out her first letters, telling the gentlemen in
+question of the transfer of god-mothers. After much consideration she
+adopted the tone of maternal concern for their comfort and welfare, with
+a cheerful optimism intended to be elderly.
+
+"Jean" and "Edouard" were told of life in Bermuda; pictures (cut from
+society weeklies) of the island and the people there were enclosed for
+their entertainment. Cigarettes and candy were promised at once and the
+letters despatched with much excitement.
+
+The other patriotic offering which grew out of this beginning was the
+preparation of gift boxes for the soldiers. Not knitted things, but
+things intended to amuse them. The girls searched every gift shop and
+delighted in the discovery of some new trinket for "their sons."
+
+In the meantime an earnest contest for Isabelle's favour was going on
+between Percy and one of his friends, Jack Porter. She accepted their
+attentions indifferently, played with them when it was convenient, and
+disposed of them cruelly when it was not. She loved to dance and, as
+they both danced well, they were useful after dinner; unless, of course,
+Captain O'Leary danced with her more than once, which sometimes
+happened.
+
+Major O'Dell had shown signs of appreciating her talents since her brief
+encounter with him on the raft and later. She decided to cultivate him,
+and--eventually--to ask him for her Chinese coat.
+
+Major O'Dell asked her to take tea with him one day. Mrs. Darlington,
+and a Miss Devoe, who made eyes at O'Leary, were also his guests. The
+Captain, and the fat little man, named Monty Haven, who had been on the
+ship, were there.
+
+"I've captured a charming recruit," said the host as he presented
+Isabelle.
+
+"I didn't know that you could be captured, Miss Bryce," said Mrs.
+Darlington, insolently.
+
+"It takes the military!" retorted Isabelle.
+
+"That's right. Plain civilians haven't a chance with you girls any more,
+have we?" Haven asked Isabelle.
+
+"Not much," she agreed.
+
+"What could a nice fellow like me do to get into the running, Miss
+Bryce?"
+
+"Why don't you train down?" she answered, literally.
+
+"Oh, Miss Bryce! you're stepping on Haven's toes," laughed Captain
+O'Leary.
+
+"Am I?" she said, peering under the table.
+
+"The dear, ingenuous little thing," said Mrs. Darlington, tartly.
+
+She turned and deliberately engaged the men next her in an aside. She
+had no intention of letting this impertinent miss occupy the entire
+attention during tea.
+
+Captain O'Leary turned to the protection of Isabelle.
+
+"Haven't seen much of you lately," he began.
+
+"No?"
+
+"I see you are always followed by a retinue of boys. No chance for an
+old fellow like me."
+
+"The young ones _are_ more diverting."
+
+"Who is the blond Adonis, me chief rival?"
+
+"You refer to Percy?"
+
+"Percy? Am I to be cut out by a youth named Percy?" he cried.
+
+"You are--if you don't look out."
+
+"Never! What can I do to reinstate meself?"
+
+"You can't expect me to think up ways."
+
+"What does Percy do?"
+
+"Ask him."
+
+"Give me two dances to-night, and take a walk with me in the morning,"
+he demanded.
+
+"I make no promises. You will have to take your chances"--airily.
+
+Miss Devoe, on O'Leary's other side, said audibly:
+
+"Give her a spoon to play with, Larry, and pay some attention to me."
+
+Isabelle leaned across to her.
+
+"_I'm_ using him now," she said.
+
+"Do you know what Captain O'Leary calls you?" retorted Miss Devoe.
+
+"No"--with great interest.
+
+"A leprechaun."
+
+"It _sounds_ naughty," said Isabelle, turning reproachful eyes upon him;
+"_is_ it?"
+
+"Very," he admitted.
+
+"That is just his pet name for me. What does he call you?" she inquired
+of Miss Devoe.
+
+Miss Devoe ignored the rejoinder, by whispering to Larry. Isabelle
+turned to Major O'Dell.
+
+"You'd better talk to me about something. I don't seem to be a popular
+favourite."
+
+"Yours is the unforgivable sin."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Youth."
+
+"But they are much prettier than I am, every one of them."
+
+"I'll take your eyes and your tongue, thanks," he laughed. "Let's take a
+look at the sunset."
+
+They rose.
+
+"Where are ye going, you two?" inquired O'Leary.
+
+"Sunsetting," replied Isabelle.
+
+Then, turning to the ladies, she made a curtsey.
+
+"Good afternoon," said she.
+
+"Lord, that was wonderful!" exclaimed the Major.
+
+"What?"--innocently.
+
+"You know what, ye clever little rascal."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain O'Leary got only one of his dances that night, but he announced
+his intention of taking her to walk on the beach at ten the following
+morning. When, at that hour, he presented himself to Miss Watts, she
+looked distressed--thought Isabelle must have misunderstood, for she had
+gone off to walk with Percy Pollock.
+
+The Captain thanked her and set off in pursuit. He was annoyed at
+himself for being annoyed with this chit of a girl. But she should not
+play tricks with him! In due course of time he spied them ahead of him.
+He increased his speed and caught up.
+
+"Good morning," he said, briefly.
+
+"Oh, good morning, Captain O'Leary," said she.
+
+"Miss Watts gave me your message."
+
+"Message?"
+
+"That you would meet me here. By the way, Pollock, your mother asked me
+to say that something important came for ye in the morning mails. She
+wants ye at once."
+
+With a firm and masterly hand he detached Percy and sent him off. Then
+he turned to Isabelle.
+
+"Ye can play tricks on Percy and your other youngsters, but not on me."
+
+"I haven't the slightest interest in playing tricks on you," she
+answered. She sat down, opened a parasol, and planted it in the sand. He
+threw himself down beside her.
+
+"You are a very interesting little girl," he remarked, "but you have a
+great deal to learn."
+
+"Teach me!" she exclaimed, with such ingenuous enthusiasm that he was at
+a loss to know whether she was making fun of him or not.
+
+"I will. First, you mustn't be so pricklish."
+
+"It's the only way to protect yourself."
+
+"Against what?"
+
+"People."
+
+"Ye start on the basis that people are your enemies?"
+
+"I think they are."
+
+"Look here, tell me about yourself. What shall I call you? Do I have to
+say 'Miss Bryce'?"
+
+"My name is Isabelle."
+
+"Doesn't suit ye. Have ye no pet name?"
+
+"Somebody I liked once called me 'the cricket'."
+
+"That's it--Cricket--may I call ye that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now, Cricket, tell me all about yourself."
+
+She looked at him intently for a moment. He lay stretched out on the
+sand, his elbow crooked to support his head. He looked frankly back at
+her.
+
+"Go on, as friend to friend," he urged.
+
+And she did. She did not touch it up a bit. She made him see her life,
+her people, the Benjamins, her experience at Miss Vantine's--all--through
+the eyes of her youth, her wistful youth. She told him about Martin
+Christiansen; she even confessed the fearful catastrophe with Cartel;
+and she did not mind when he rolled on his back and sent gusts of
+laughter up to the clouds.
+
+"O ye delicious, crickety Cricket!" he groaned. "Go on."
+
+"There isn't any 'on'. That's up to now. Tell me about you."
+
+And he did. He told her about his people, his young life near Dublin.
+How he went to an English University, how he enlisted in the war. He
+told her about his life in the trenches, about his wounds, about his
+decoration. He talked as he had talked to no one else about the whole
+experience of war.
+
+She sat tense and still, concentrated on his every word. When he had
+finished, they sat in silence for several seconds.
+
+"And that's up to now, for me."
+
+"You've got to go back?--there?"
+
+"When I'm well again."
+
+Her tell-tale face registered her distress. He laid his hand over her
+little brown one.
+
+"Not for a while. I shall often think of this place and this day," he
+said, gazing off over the sea. "Ye're a comfortable cricket, when ye
+want to be. I'd like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!"
+
+[Illustration: _"Ye're a comfortable cricket, when ye want to be. I'd
+like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!"_]
+
+She sprang up.
+
+"Well, I'm not ready to settle yet, so your hearth must go bare."
+
+"Like Mother Hubbard's cupboard! Where are ye hoppin' off to?"
+
+"Hotel, for lunch."
+
+"Is it time?"
+
+She nodded. He fell in step beside her.
+
+"Ye haven't missed Percy?"
+
+"I wonder what Percy's mother wanted with him," she evaded.
+
+"So does Percy's mother," he retorted.
+
+She looked up at him.
+
+"You didn't----?"
+
+"I did, Cricket; I jumped a longer jump than you did," he boasted.
+
+"Why, you old grasshopper!" she exploded.
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
+
+
+Miss Watts found Isabelle more reasonable, more amenable than ever
+before in their association, and as she had made some pleasant
+acquaintances, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She hoped their stay
+would be long. In her reports to the Bryces she conscientiously
+mentioned Isabelle's good behaviour and her improvement in health.
+
+She watched the career of her charge with interest and some concern. She
+saw with surprise that the girl had hit upon the only possible way of
+intriguing the interest of a spoiled darling like Captain O'Leary. She
+flitted like a will-o'-the-wisp before him.
+
+Larry thought that their talk on the beach had established a new
+relation, but he soon found that he could not rely on it. When she was
+particularly annoying he reminded her how sweet she had been that day,
+but all she could recall of it was that he had cut Percy out! If he
+ignored her completely, suddenly she was like a soft little rabbit in
+his hands, all heart-beat. She puzzled and annoyed him.
+
+These were busy days for Isabelle. Percy and Jack were always under
+foot. They furnished comic relief when her military intrigue threatened
+to become serious. Then her "god-son," Jean Jacques Petard, who was
+wounded and in a hospital, replied to her maternal solicitude with
+prolonged and passionate devotion. Isabelle shared the treasure with
+Agnes, who protested that none of her godsons wrote to her like that;
+and she asked to have Jean back. Isabelle stoutly refused. A gift was a
+gift. Agnes had given her Jean and she intended to keep him.
+
+"But you took my two best ones."
+
+"You gave me my choice, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes, and I was a silly to do it. I might have known you'd take the best
+ones"--hotly.
+
+"But you had letters from him. You say yourself he never wrote to you
+like that. It's _me_ he's writing to, not you."
+
+"Well, of all the conceited things!" cried Agnes.
+
+"I'm glad I am. I'll give you Edouard back, if you're going to make such
+a row."
+
+"I don't want him."
+
+"All right, that settles it. It wouldn't be fair to Jean to give him
+back to you."
+
+"Fair! Lots you care about fair."
+
+"Do you think it's fair to pass a soldier of France--one of our
+allies--back and forth between mothers, like a bean-bag?"
+
+"I have nothing more to say. I have found you out, Isabelle Bryce. I
+give to you generously, and you prove a false friend."
+
+Agnes walked away with her face flushed and her head high. It was too
+bad to be treated like this when you were doing your patriotic duty. She
+brooded on the matter for several days, avoiding her false friend, and
+then an idea of revenge took possession of her.
+
+Chance played into her hands at the moment, by putting into her lap a
+copy of a fashionable magazine. It had two pages of pictures of the
+idlers at Bermuda. An enlarged snapshot of Isabelle coming out of the
+sea, was featured with a brief biographic sketch of her meteoric career
+as actress, of her family, and her wealth. Agnes cut this out, enclosing
+it with an anonymous letter to Petard. She told of the miserable trick
+played upon him. Isabelle was only seventeen and a half, and in no way
+fit to be a god-mother to him. She was infatuated with him, and
+pretended to be old, so she would have an excuse to write him.
+
+This malicious mischief mailed and headed for France, Agnes felt better,
+and awaited results. She would make up with Isabelle in time to hear
+what Jean Jacques Petard would say now. She hoped he would denounce her
+as a traitor!
+
+So far as Isabelle was concerned, Agnes and her injured feelings were of
+no moment. It was a trifle awkward when Percy and Jack arranged a
+foursome, but by strict formality of intercourse, they managed the
+situation. The boys were soon aware of it, and found much amusement in
+urging the combatants to battle. Percy tried to pump Agnes as to the
+cause of the rupture, but nothing could unseal her lips on the secret.
+She could imagine what those boys would do if they knew the truth. So
+poor Agnes suffered in silence, nursed her secret triumph, and staged
+the moment of Isabelle's downfall.
+
+Major O'Dell, whom by this time Isabelle counted a friend, approached
+one day as she dallied with her two admirers.
+
+"I impersonate Mercury, bearing an invitation," he said.
+
+"I'll do anything with you, Major O'Dell, but I don't want to play with
+your crowd."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't like the women. They pick on me."
+
+"Larry and I will protect you."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+"I have the permission of the amiable Miss Watts. It is all arranged."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Monty Haven's yacht is at anchor and he wants you to come for a sail
+and lunch aboard."
+
+"Sorry. I'm engaged to-day with Percy."
+
+"May I add that a certain gentleman, not at the moment in your good
+graces, entreats you to come?"
+
+"Sorry. You wouldn't let me off, would you, Percy?"
+
+"No"--firmly.
+
+"Alas! This is final?" asked the Major.
+
+"Convey my thanks to Mr. Haven, please, dear Major O'Dell, and
+mention----"
+
+"'Percy'," he interrupted with a smile, and left.
+
+"What did you put it on me for?" complained Percy.
+
+"Come down on the beach and watch them go," ordered Isabelle, leading
+the way.
+
+They sat them down and watched preparations on the yacht. A motor boat
+came ashore and carried off the guests.
+
+"Now aren't you sorry?" said Percy.
+
+"Nope."
+
+The motor boat presently put off again--in their direction. It came as
+near shore as it dared, and stopped. Captain O'Leary stepped overboard
+into the shallow water, and advanced upon the puzzled three. He bowed,
+leaned over, picked up Miss Isabelle Bryce in his arms, and marched into
+the sea and toward the boat.
+
+"Hi there! what are you doing?" cried Percy.
+
+"Come and get me, you big idiots!" called Isabelle over O'Leary's
+shoulder.
+
+The two boys plunged in. O'Leary laughed and ran. He set her in the
+boat, jumped in himself, and they were off, leaving the two swains hip
+deep and helpless.
+
+Isabelle turned smouldering eyes on the Captain.
+
+"Cricket, my dear," said he, "I feel that there is an excess of Percy!"
+
+She blazed in silent fury.
+
+"Cricket, don't be cross. It was only a joke to tease your beaux. They
+were funny, standin' there in their neat white flannels, weren't they
+now?"
+
+No answer.
+
+They were received with a shout of delight from the boat. Haven met them
+at the rail and greeted Isabelle.
+
+"Larry, you win!" he shouted, and they all shook hands with the Captain
+and beat him on the back.
+
+"Win?" inquired Isabelle.
+
+"Major O'Dell bet Larry that he couldn't get you aboard and Larry took
+him."
+
+"Major O'Dell, that wasn't fair," cried Isabelle.
+
+They all stared at him, and she added with a chuckle:
+
+"It happened just as we planned it, didn't it?"
+
+"Did you put something up on me, O'Dell?" cried Larry. "Ye cheat--ye old
+pirate!"
+
+He fell upon him, and a rough-and-tumble inaugurated the party. When
+O'Dell found a chance he joined Isabelle.
+
+"You little witch!" he said. "Ye certainly made a booby of ole Larry.
+But don't you be coming between me and my best friend."
+
+"I won't if he keeps out of my way," she blazed, "but I'm mad!"
+
+"'Twas only a joke. We wanted ye to come. For my sake, be nice and
+funny, an' like yourself."
+
+"All right," she answered amiably. "But you owe me something, if I am."
+
+"Name it, and it's yours."
+
+"It's mine already. I want my Chinese coat back."
+
+He stared at her for a full second.
+
+"It is yours, then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I told him it was----"
+
+"Told _him_?"
+
+"It wasn't my room ye left it in."
+
+"No? How did you know, then?"--in alarm.
+
+"The man who found it asked every woman aboard and never thought of
+you, because--well--you're such a baby," he added, staring.
+
+"What's that got to do with it? I went out in the corridor to get some
+air, and I went in the wrong door, by mistake. I took off my coat, and
+started to climb up to my berth, when the boat joggled, and I put my
+hand on _a moustache_! I was so scared that I ran off without my coat."
+
+The Major began to laugh.
+
+"What's the joke?" inquired Larry, joining them.
+
+"It's a secret between Major O'Dell and me. On your sacred honour,
+Major, you won't tell," said Isabelle.
+
+"On my sacred honour."
+
+"Go away, O'Dell, and let me make my peace with the Cricket."
+
+"Major O'Dell, you will stay, if you please."
+
+True to her promise to O'Dell, she played up and kept them all amused,
+but she never so much as looked at Larry. Thoroughly annoyed, he devoted
+himself conspicuously to Mrs. Darlington and Miss Devoe. But he might
+have been in China for all the impression his flirtation made on
+Isabelle. They landed late in the afternoon, with the Bryce-O'Leary feud
+still on.
+
+Isabelle told the story of her capture to Miss Watts, but with that
+lady's perverted English sense of humour, she thought O'Leary's prank
+was funny. She knew that she ought to disapprove of it, but she only
+laughed.
+
+Isabelle went off to read a letter which she found awaiting her, from
+her god-son Jean. It proved rather a surprise. She read it twice. It was
+undeniably a love-letter. In it he told her--that he adored her in a
+great many ways and a great many times. He had known all along that she
+was not old, and now that he saw how young she was, how lovely . . . it
+went on and on. He wished to address her father at once, and ask her
+hand in marriage. He enclosed a photograph of himself; he was quite good
+looking. It was a thrilling letter, but it took her breath away. How
+could he know she was young and lovely?
+
+She answered it instantly, tearing up many sheets of paper in the
+process. She assured him that he was mistaken, that she was too old to
+think of marriage, even if she loved him--which she could not say she
+did, because she didn't know him. Her father was long since dead, so he
+could not address him, etc., etc. In short, unless he could think of her
+as his devoted _marraine_ they must end the correspondence, there and
+then.
+
+She despatched it at once, with a resolve to handle "her son Jean" with
+more restraint in the future. Needless to say she did not mention the
+letter to Agnes, whose overtures to peace she had finally accepted.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Life went on its interesting way. Captain O'Leary made his peace with
+her, too, and lost it again. Major O'Dell acted as intermediary in their
+battles. He was delightful, in this capacity, but he would not tell any
+more about the coat. He said he would see that it was returned to her,
+but that it might take some time.
+
+The next letter from Jean Jacques Petard was a flaming torch of passion.
+She might as well drop her disguise. He knew her for her true self. He
+loved her madly; he read her love, in the cold lines she forced her pen
+to write. One word of love from her and he would come. He was on
+convalescent leave and at her service.
+
+She was really alarmed now. Nothing but the impossibility of getting a
+cable sent kept her from that extravagance. She wrote him at length. It
+was all a mistake. She admitted that she was young. She told him that
+she did not love him, and that--deeply grateful though she was for his
+beautiful devotion--she felt that this must be her last communication to
+him. She added, in the hope of putting an end to his letters, that she
+was about to leave Bermuda. With a sigh of relief she posted this
+dismissal, and at that moment she ceased to be _marraine_ to Jean and
+Edouard. It was too bad that duty should carry so amiss!
+
+Two weeks later, with no explanation or excuse, a cable came from Wally
+to Miss Watts:
+
+"Come home by next boat."
+
+It was a blow to them both, they were having such a good time. But it
+was "theirs not to question why"--so they packed hastily, to catch the
+steamer leaving on the morrow.
+
+It happened that hostilities were on at the moment, between Isabelle and
+the Captain. She did not want to leave him without a farewell, nor did
+she want to make overtures toward peace. He was off on Haven's yacht
+when the news of the approaching sudden departure spread about. It
+happened that on his return no one spoke to him about it. Isabelle saw
+him after dinner on the terrace. He lit a cigarette and strolled off
+alone toward the gardens. She followed him. He wandered into a sort of
+kiosk, where the view was fine, and she darted in after him, and
+straight into his arms.
+
+"Good-bye," she said, "good-bye. I hope it isn't for ever."
+
+He held her to him in complete surprise, and laid his cheek upon her
+hair.
+
+"Cricket," he said softly, "little old crickety-Cricket! Good-bye for
+what?"
+
+She started back and looked up at him.
+
+"You! You!" she cried. "Oh! But I thought you were----"
+
+"Not Percy!" he exploded.
+
+But she ran away fast, through the garden, and he heard her laughter.
+
+This was the memory that Isabelle carried with her on the way home. It
+was sweet and warm. She was content with it for a while.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wally met them at the pier. It was plain that he was excited. After
+hasty greetings, he turned to his daughter.
+
+"Who in thunder is this Frenchman you're engaged to?"
+
+"What?" she demanded, startled.
+
+"Jean Jacques Petard visits me; Jean Jacques Petard patrols our house;
+Jean Jacques Petard shadows your mother----"
+
+"But I--but he isn't----"
+
+"None of your tricks!" ordered Wally. "What we want to know is who is
+this Jean Jacques Petard, who demands your hand in marriage?"
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
+
+
+On the way home from the pier Isabelle demanded explanations about the
+Frenchman, but Wally refused to talk.
+
+"Your mother has something to say on the subject. Wait until we get
+home."
+
+She and Miss Watts were summoned before the bar of judgment as soon as
+they reached the house. Max met them in the library and after a
+perfunctory greeting opened fire.
+
+"Miss Watts, what does this mean?"
+
+"I am sorry, Mrs. Bryce, but I must ask you to be more explicit."
+
+"Explicit? I send my daughter away in your charge and you bring her back
+engaged to some unknown poilu. Then you ask me to be explicit!"
+
+"But I know nothing of this affair, Mrs. Bryce. It is as much a surprise
+to me as it is to you."
+
+Mrs. Bryce turned an exasperated look to the girl.
+
+"It's true," said Isabelle, "she doesn't know anything about it."
+
+"But how could you get engaged to him without her knowing it? She could
+see him around, couldn't she?"
+
+"But he wasn't around. We met no Frenchman in Bermuda," protested Miss
+Watts, utterly at sea.
+
+"Will you kindly explain this mystery?" inquired Mrs. Bryce, hotly.
+
+"Yes, if you'll keep your temper and let me. In the first place, I'm not
+engaged to him."
+
+"He says you are practically engaged and that you love him," contributed
+Wally.
+
+"But I've never seen him."
+
+"What?"--in chorus from both parents.
+
+"It's true."
+
+"You'd better have a look at him," said Wally, going, to the window.
+
+Isabelle followed him hastily. A man in French uniform gazed up at the
+windows.
+
+"_Is_ that Jean Jacques?" inquired Isabelle with interest. "He isn't bad
+looking, is he?"
+
+"He patrols the block day and night. But get ahead with the plot. What
+hold has he got on you?"
+
+"None," said she, promptly. "I merely adopted him as my son."
+
+"Are you crazy?" inquired her mother.
+
+Even Miss Watts looked alarmed.
+
+"No, I'm a patriot. Down at Bermuda I met a girl I knew at school, Agnes
+Pollock. She told me about being patriotic, and how she wrote cheerful
+letters to soldiers in the trenches. So I borrowed two from her, Jean
+and Edouard. I wrote them nice motherly letters, about keeping their
+feet dry----"
+
+Wally burst into laughter, but Mrs. Bryce hushed him with a violent
+gesture.
+
+"They called me '_Ma chère marraine_,' and wrote long letters back. It
+was splendid practice for my French," she added.
+
+"But this man wouldn't be wanting to marry his '_chère marraine_',"
+challenged Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"No. He wrote rather warm letters from the first, but Agnes and I
+decided that he had a warm, appreciative nature."
+
+"Little fools! Then what?"
+
+"I wrote a very cooling letter, but it didn't work. He was worse than
+ever; he said he knew I was beautiful and young; that he loved me
+madly--wanted to ask Wally for my hand in marriage, and a lot of stuff
+like that."
+
+"And you accepted him?--this man you've never seen?"
+
+"Of course I didn't accept him. I told him that I was old; that I didn't
+love him; that Wally was dead, so he couldn't address him; and that that
+was my last letter."
+
+Again Wally laughed.
+
+"But Isabelle, why didn't you tell me something of all this?" begged
+Miss Watts.
+
+"Why should I boast of doing my bit?"
+
+"Rubbish!" exploded her mother. "You've got yourself into a nice scrape.
+How do we know what she said in these letters?" she asked Wally.
+
+"But I've told you what I said."
+
+"You didn't keep copies of them, did you?" asked Wally.
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"Have you got his letters?" from her mother.
+
+"Yes, in my trunk."
+
+"There's nothing to be done until we see them," said Mrs. Bryce,
+impatiently.
+
+"They are private letters, and I must say . . ." began Isabelle, hotly.
+
+"You be quiet," ordered her mother, angrily. "I can't see that you were
+much use, Miss Watts."
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, I had no idea that this was going on. I knew she wrote
+letters, but I supposed they were to you or to school friends. I did not
+feel it necessary to censor her mail."
+
+"You ought to know her well enough by now to know that when she seems to
+be behaving she is doing her worst."
+
+Mrs. Bryce summoned a maid and ordered Isabelle's trunk to be reported
+the moment it arrived. While they waited Mrs. Bryce interrogated Miss
+Watts as to whom Isabelle had met in Bermuda. Isabelle was at the
+window, gazing from behind the curtain at her admirer, but she noticed
+that Captain O'Leary's name was merely mentioned in a list of the
+English officers they had met.
+
+"Look here, Isabelle, how about Edouard?" whispered Wally, at her elbow.
+"Does he think he is engaged to you, too?"
+
+She felt the laugh behind his words, so she answered gravely:
+
+"No, Wally, Edouard was a dutiful son."
+
+He chuckled. Max turned at the sound.
+
+"Don't encourage her, Wally."
+
+"I can't. It's too late."
+
+"Don't worry. I disinherited them both," Isabelle assured him.
+
+"Did she have any violent love affairs?" inquired Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"There were two very devoted young men, Percy Pollock and Jack Porter.
+But I thought Isabelle handled them very well," replied Miss Watts.
+
+"Are you engaged to them?" whispered Wally again.
+
+"Wally, I'm not engaged to anybody," answered his child.
+
+The maid announced the trunks and Isabelle went in search of her
+treasures. When she returned she carried in each hand a bundle of
+letters tied with ribbons.
+
+"Son Jean's," she said, offering one bundle to Max. "We need not go over
+Son Edouard's."
+
+Mrs. Bryce began to read. As she finished a page, she handed it to
+Wally, and he in turn passed it to Miss Watts. The two women read
+solemnly, but Wally laughed occasionally. Isabelle sat by, now and then
+taking a peek at the author of this new trouble.
+
+"Well!" remarked Mrs. Bryce when the last tender words had been read.
+
+"Going some, Isabelle!" added Wally.
+
+"We'll have him in," said Max.
+
+"Oh, no; now, I wouldn't do that."
+
+"I would. Matthews will go across the street and tell him to come."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Max, what are you going to do?"
+
+"Get her letters back, of course."
+
+"Isabelle, you and Miss Watts go somewhere else and wait," Wally urged,
+as his wife gave the butler instructions.
+
+"No. I shall stay here."
+
+"You'll do no such thing. You've done your part, now you leave the rest
+of it to us," ordered her mother.
+
+"It is my hand he is asking for; those are my letters, and this is my
+affair. I shall stay right here and see it through," Isabelle asserted
+with firm determination.
+
+Max saw that, except by force, there was no way to eject her, and it was
+too late for that, as Matthews was approaching with the Frenchman.
+
+The hero entered with a ceremonious bow. He was good-looking in a
+dare-devil way, with a somewhat dissipated face. His eyes went from one
+to another until they came to Isabelle.
+
+"_Ah! mon adoree, c'est toi!_" he cried, and before any one could stop
+him, he seized her hands and covered them with kisses.
+
+"None of that!" shouted Wally, jerking Isabelle away.
+
+Max took command. She spoke, curtly, in French.
+
+"Monsieur Petard, we have read your letters to our daughter, and heard
+her story of her correspondence with you. She is, as you see, a mere
+child. I appeal to you as a soldier and a gentleman, to return her
+letters to us, and to close this painful incident."
+
+He turned to the girl.
+
+"I ask you one question. Do you love me?"
+
+"Why, no," she said, simply, "I told you I didn't."
+
+"I did not believe. Your friend, the Mademoiselle Pollock, she say you
+are infatuate wiz me; she send ze picture; she tell me you are crazy
+about me."
+
+"Agnes Pollock? Why, the dirty little liar!" cried Isabelle.
+
+"My daughter is a schoolgirl, she knows nothing about love. Will you or
+will you not, give us those letters?"
+
+He considered a second.
+
+"I have come all ze way to zese countree, because of ze lettaires of
+your schoolgirl!"
+
+"That does not interest us"--firmly.
+
+"No-o? It ees an expenseef voyage."
+
+Max looked at Wally.
+
+"Now, we're getting to the point," she said. "How much do you want for
+those letters?"
+
+"Oh, Madame, you----"
+
+"Hurry up! What is your price?"
+
+"Ver' good. I say five sousand dollaires."
+
+"Nonsense! I'll give you $1,000."
+
+"But I cannot accept zese."
+
+"That or nothing."
+
+"I have already an offaire of five sousand dollaires."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"Ze editor of what you call _Chit-Chat_."
+
+"So, you threaten us, do you?"
+
+"I would not say zat. I geef you a chance Madame, to regain ze
+indiscretions of ze schoolgirl daughter. But five sousand dollaires is
+five sousand dollaires."
+
+"What is your address?"
+
+He gave it.
+
+"Our lawyer will call on you at ten in the morning at this hotel, with
+our offer. Good morning."
+
+He bowed.
+
+"Five sousand dollaires is my price, Madame."
+
+Wally started to speak, but she stopped him.
+
+"You will hear from us to-morrow," she said.
+
+He bowed again, most formally.
+
+"_Ma petite marraine_, vous êtes très charmante," he sighed as he left.
+
+"Why didn't you give him what he asked? We don't want the thing hashed
+up in _Chit-Chat_," objected Wally.
+
+"You are going right now to the editor of _Chit-Chat_ and make a bargain
+with him. Get your lawyer, Clifford, on the 'phone and have him meet us
+there."
+
+"You needn't come, Max. It may be nasty."
+
+"I'll come," said she.
+
+Mrs. Bryce went hastily out of the room, without a look at Isabelle.
+Miss Watts followed her.
+
+"Well, Isabelle?"
+
+"Wally; I'm sorry!" she said, earnestly.
+
+He looked at her speculatively.
+
+"It may cost a pretty penny to get rid of him. Are you sure Edouard
+knows that he is disinherited?"
+
+"I hope so," she said, solemnly. "Wally, it does discourage you with
+being patriotic, or having children or anything!"
+
+"Wally, are you coming?" called Mrs. Bryce, sharply.
+
+He hurried away, trying his best to cover a smile with a befitting
+dignity.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER THIRTY
+
+
+The negotiations between Monsieur Petard, the editor of _Chit-Chat_, and
+the Bryces were neither so brief nor so simple as Mrs. Bryce had
+supposed that they would be. She did not have to be told that, after the
+notoriety of the Cartel incident, the name of Isabelle Bryce was one for
+editors to conjure with. This wily editor, who made his living by
+scandal, obligingly outlined the advertising campaign he would follow,
+to lead up to the publication of the letters.
+
+Anxious as Mrs. Bryce was to have the scandal suppressed, she was
+unwilling that Wally should pay the price which these rascals demanded.
+So lengthy and irritating meetings followed--discussion and bargaining.
+Wally insisted upon paying anything they asked, and putting a period to
+the affair. But Mrs. Bryce was upheld by Clifford, in the idea that they
+would beat them down to a much lower figure, if they persisted.
+
+During this period Max was so furious at both Isabelle and Miss Watts
+that it seemed wise for them to keep out of her way. They were like two
+conspirators slipping in and out of the house. But the most annoying
+detail was the espionage of Jean Jacques Petard. They soon discovered
+that he lay in wait for them, near the house, and on all occasions save
+when he was closeted with Bryce _père et mère_, he was at the heels of
+Bryce _fille_.
+
+He made Miss Watts so nervous that she could hardly be induced to go
+out. Isabelle was all for having a talk with the man, and speaking her
+mind, but Miss Watts prevented this. She repeatedly said that she must
+tell Mr. Bryce of his behaviour, but Isabelle begged her not to do that
+as it would only result in their being ordered to stay indoors. After
+all, he did not speak to them, his presence could not hurt them. Let him
+follow!
+
+These were the most difficult days Isabelle had ever known. Usually,
+before, she had rescued herself with a high hand, from her escapades.
+But this thing had descended upon her head, like an avalanche, and for
+once, she saw no way of extricating herself.
+
+Then, too, she was so homesick for Bermuda that she could scarcely bear
+the thought of it. The long, happy days, with Percy and Jack at heel,
+and Captain Larry O'Leary somewhere on the horizon, they haunted her. It
+was ten whole days since they left them, and not a word from any of
+them. To come from that paradise into this prison--from that atmosphere
+of devotion to this one of reproach--from that freedom--to this--tagged
+by the horrid little Frenchman!
+
+The strain was telling upon poor Miss Watts, too. She was thinner than
+ever, and she looked haunted. Isabelle begged her to leave her, but she
+always replied: "My dear, we will face this together."
+
+But in her innermost heart Miss Watts lamented that Isabelle had not
+tried harder to interest Captain O'Leary. He was the right man for her,
+she knew it; and they certainly did need a man on their side. Wally
+might be there in spirit, but Mrs. Bryce did not allow him to express
+it.
+
+The twelfth day since their return was a dark one for everybody. Max and
+Wally had to meet the enemy at eleven, in the lawyer's office. The air
+was electric with Mrs. Bryce's irritability. She left the two culprits
+in a state of collapse.
+
+"One more performance like that, and I shall marry Jean Jacques Petard,
+and disappear," announced Isabelle, violently, as the door closed on
+them.
+
+"Isabelle, don't talk like that," begged Miss Watts.
+
+"Let's go back to Bermuda; I hate it here!" said the girl, going to the
+window. "We've got to get out of this hateful house. The spy will be
+busy this morning, so we'd better make the best of it."
+
+A motor drew up to the curb and a man got out, looking up at the
+numbers.
+
+"O my Lord!" cried Isabelle, as if it were a prayer. She ran out of the
+room and down the hall, with Miss Watts, startled into action, hurrying
+after her. Before the bell sounded, Isabelle had the door open. Captain
+O'Leary looked, first surprised and then delighted.
+
+"Cricket!" said he.
+
+"Larry--Larry!" she cried.
+
+He took both her hands and beamed on her--beamed. Then suddenly he was
+aware of Miss Watts, and he surprised everybody, including himself, by
+saluting that lady's cheek.
+
+"Captain O'Leary!" she exclaimed, and kissed him back.
+
+They all went into the living room, talking in chorus--asking questions,
+answering them--incoherent and excited.
+
+"Larry, when did you come?"
+
+"Just landed. Where are your parents?"
+
+"They're out. Oh, I'm in an awful lot of trouble with them."
+
+"Why didn't ye tell me ye were leavin' down there?"
+
+"I thought you knew. We left on a cable from Wally to hurry home. I told
+everybody."
+
+"I didn't know. What's this trouble ye speak of?"
+
+"I oughtn't to begin the moment you come."
+
+"Yes, ye ought. Let's hear."
+
+Miss Watts gave a deep sigh of relief. Isabelle began the story of her
+patriotism. Here and there Larry asked a question, and when the climax
+was reached, he leaned back and roared. Isabelle's eyes suddenly misted
+with tears.
+
+"Oh, but Larry, it isn't funny, it's awful! He's trying to make Wally
+pay a lot of money for my letters, and if Wally doesn't pay up, he is
+going to sell them to a nasty society sheet called _Chit-Chat_."
+
+His face was grave enough to suit her now.
+
+"Where is the little whelp?"
+
+"He's usually across the street looking at the house, or following me
+around," she began.
+
+"Ye mean to say he follows ye?"
+
+"You may think I'm to blame, Captain O'Leary, for not telling Mr. Bryce
+of this, but Isabelle thought it would mean that her parents would keep
+her indoors. She is dreadfully in disgrace with her parents," Miss
+Watts said.
+
+"Poor little crickety-Cricket," he murmured.
+
+"You don't blame me, do you, Larry? I know it was silly, but I just
+wanted to be a patriot, and to practise my French."
+
+"Sure I don't blame ye, ye blessed baby," he laughed.
+
+She choked a little; it was so good to be championed.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Bryce have gone for a conference with these men this
+morning, and we all hope they may settle it," sighed Miss Watts.
+
+"Where is this conference?"
+
+"At Wally's lawyer's office," said Isabelle.
+
+"Get your hat, Cricket; we'll go say a word or two at this conference."
+
+She looked at him inquiringly, and went for her wraps without a word.
+
+"Oh, Captain O'Leary, we have needed you so!" exclaimed Miss Watts.
+
+"Woman, woman, why didn't ye cable me? As it is I took the first boat."
+
+"I know you and Isabelle want to be alone, but I'm so in disgrace now,
+with Mrs. Bryce, that I dare not let her go with you, unless I go."
+
+He frowned, then smiled.
+
+"Of course, get your bonnet. Isabelle and I will have enough time later,
+to catch up on our affairs."
+
+So all three of them got into the Captain's taxi, and hurried to the
+address which Isabelle gave the driver.
+
+There was some little difficulty in Mr. Clifford's outer office, but
+Captain O'Leary simplified it, by lifting the office boy out of the
+way, bodily, opening the door and marching in, followed by the two
+women.
+
+Startled glances were lifted to this tall officer, stranger to them all,
+who strode in, unannounced. The lawyer rose angrily.
+
+"How did you get in?" he demanded.
+
+"Walked. Present me to the Bryces, Miss Watts," he replied.
+
+Miss Watts in a trembling voice said:
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, this is Captain O'Leary, a friend of Isabelle's and mine
+from Bermuda."
+
+Mrs. Bryce stared--too astonished to speak. The tall, young man bowed.
+
+"This is my father," said Isabelle. The two men shook hands.
+
+"I object to this man's coming in here," began the editor of _Chit-Chat_.
+
+Captain O'Leary fixed him with a stormy eye.
+
+"We'll hear your objections later. I know all about this rotten deal. Is
+this Jean Jacques Petard?"
+
+"This is none of your business," began Clifford, but he never finished
+it. With one long arm Captain O'Leary reached for Monsieur Petard,
+lifted the gentleman by the seat of his trousers and his collar, bore
+him toward the door. Isabelle opened it for him.
+
+"Don't kill him," she said, as he went out.
+
+Wally and Clifford rushed after him. Isabelle followed and Miss Watts
+got as far as the door. Max and the editor sat still, but sounds came to
+them from the outer hall.
+
+It was about ten minutes later that O'Leary strode into the room again,
+with heightened colour but otherwise undisturbed.
+
+"We'll hear no more of Mr. Petard, I think. Now sir, it is your turn."
+
+The editor defended himself with a chair.
+
+"What business is this, of yours?" he yelled.
+
+"Miss Bryce is going to do me the honour of marrying me, and you'll
+jolly well see how much it is my business. Put down that chair, it is
+words for you, not blows. Mr. Bryce, if the ladies will leave us, we can
+settle shortly with this gentleman."
+
+Max and Miss Watts lost no time in obeying the hint.
+
+"Close the door, Isabelle, please," he said to her.
+
+"Who is this man?" demanded Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Don't talk! If that creature hurts him," said Isabelle, her ear at the
+door.
+
+There were sounds of angry voices inside, loud argument. Then silence.
+After what seemed a long time, Larry opened the door.
+
+"Come in, now, please."
+
+They filed in. The editor was huddled in his chair. He was pretty much
+to pieces, nervously. Larry held up a package of letters.
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, the letters are in my possession. May I keep them, for the
+present, Isabelle?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"This gentleman has just signed a paper, drawn up by Mr. Bryce and me,
+signed by Mr. Clifford. This will be held by Mr. Clifford, in case of
+need. That ends this conference, I believe," he said affably.
+
+The editor left hastily. Mr. Clifford went into the outer office, and
+Max turned to Isabelle.
+
+"Why didn't you tell us you were going to marry this man?" she demanded.
+
+Isabelle looked at Larry inquiringly, whereupon he took her hand and
+drew it through his arm.
+
+"Ye must forgive her, Mrs. Bryce, ye see she didn't know it. I've never
+had a chance yet to ask her."
+
+Max was used to shocks, but this morning had been too much for her. At
+this astounding statement on the part of their god-like liberator, she
+sat down suddenly, bereft of words, and stared at the two young people.
+
+"Take me home, Wally," she said, "I can't stand any more!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
+
+
+"Suppose,"--said Mrs. Bryce, as they got into the limousine, "--suppose
+we postpone explanations until after lunch. I'm too worn out to
+understand anything you may say."
+
+So conversation was casual enough on the way home. Once there, Isabelle
+manoeuvred to get Larry alone, but Wally stuck to him like a father.
+
+"Wally," said his daughter, sternly, "Max wants you."
+
+"What does she want?"--impatiently.
+
+"You."
+
+He went, reluctantly. Larry held out two eager hands to Isabelle, but
+she ignored them.
+
+"Sweetheart," he said, anxiously.
+
+"Larry, you told a lie."
+
+"Many of 'em, darlin'. Which one?"
+
+"You said I was going to marry you."
+
+"Aren't you, crickety-Cricket?"--anxiously.
+
+"I haven't decided--yet."
+
+"But won't ye decide, dearie?"
+
+"I may--when I'm properly asked."
+
+"What is properly, Mavourneen?"
+
+"I don't know. I've never been proposed to before, except by Jean
+Jacques Petard."
+
+She was entirely in earnest, so he humoured her.
+
+"Would ye prefer the formal 'Will-ye-do-me-the-honour-to-become-me-bride?'
+sort, or a more impassioned style?"
+
+"Oh, Larry, you must advise me! Which would you take?"
+
+With a laugh--half amused, wholly tender--he took her into his arms.
+
+"I'd take the quickest way to get ye, little wee leprechaun."
+
+"Larry, I won't let you off. I do so _want_ to be proposed to."
+
+"My dear," he said gently, "I love ye a very great deal. I want ye to
+love me a very great deal, and to be my wife."
+
+Both arms went around his neck. She drew his tall head down to her, and
+kissed him.
+
+"Thank you, Larry; I will," she said.
+
+He gathered her up and went to sit in a chair big enough to hold them
+both. He kissed her eyes, her saucy chin, her hair. He told her in
+tender ways, known only to the Irish, how he loved her, how he wanted to
+make for her a shield of his love, to keep her safe and happy.
+
+"Do ye love me, Cricket?" he begged her.
+
+"Larry," she said, solemnly; "I feel as if you were all the people I
+have loved in my whole life--Ann, Mrs. Benjamin, Jerry, and Herbert----"
+
+"And Percy?" he teased her. "When did ye begin to love me?" he asked, in
+the old way of lovers.
+
+"On the boat, going down."
+
+"Ye didn't."
+
+"I did."
+
+"I felt it comin' on me, stronger and stronger, at Bermuda, but that
+night when ye came into my arms in the garden settled it. I had to come
+and find out who ye thought ye were lovin'."
+
+She only laughed. Luncheon was announced and the family appeared. The
+meal was more or less the usual midday repast, but to Isabelle and Larry
+it might have been ambrosia, or sawdust. They made motions of eating,
+between long glances. Wally and Max tried not to notice, but Miss
+Watts's face was wreathed in a fatuous smile of satisfaction.
+
+Later, when they went to the living room, she started to slip away, but
+Isabelle put her arm through the older woman's and led her along.
+
+"We'll face this out together," she whispered.
+
+"We seem to have had the end of this story, Isabelle; suppose we now
+have the first of it," said her mother in an amused tone.
+
+The Captain and Isabelle smiled at each other.
+
+"Will you recite it, or shall I?" he asked.
+
+"Together."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"_Chapter One. The good ship 'Astra.' The hero forces his acquaintance
+upon the heroine . . ._" he began.
+
+"Didn't you want to meet him?" inquired Max, curiously.
+
+"Certainly, but I didn't want him to know it. All the women on board
+made fools of themselves about him."
+
+"Deceivin' little minx! Is this the way ye brought her up, Mrs. Bryce?"
+
+"I didn't bring her up. She's brought herself up. Go on with the story."
+
+"_The hero curried favour with one Miss Watts in hope of advancing his
+suit . . ._"
+
+"Miss Watts was foolish about him, too," announced Isabelle.
+
+"I was," admitted Miss Watts.
+
+"_The heroine promptly acquired one Major O'Dell, of the English army,
+one odious youth, named Percy, one nondescript yclept Jack----_"
+
+"And an Irishman named O'Leary," boasted Isabelle.
+
+"_And an Irishman named O'Leary. She led them all a pretty dance, and
+when her affairs were so complicated that a lawyer couldn't straighten
+them out, whist! she disappears._"
+
+"Engaged to a Frenchman!" supplied Wally. "Catholic tastes, our
+Isabelle, a regular internationalist."
+
+Larry looked at Wally as if seeing him for the first time, and laughed
+appreciatively.
+
+"The Irishman followed," prompted Isabelle.
+
+"_The Irishman followed. Now he wishes to apologize for the abrupt way
+in which he intruded into the peace conference. He makes the proper, if
+somewhat belated request, that Mr. and Mrs. Bryce will look upon him
+kindly as a son-in-law._"
+
+His gay smile went swiftly from Max to Wally.
+
+"Isabelle, has he proposed yet?" asked Max.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you accept him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I cannot believe that you could ever do anything so sensible."
+
+"Thank you," bowed the Captain. "Mr. Bryce, the British consul has full
+information about me. I am a captain in the ---- Regiment. I am on sick
+leave, wounded at Ypres."
+
+Wally put out his hand and grasped O'Leary's.
+
+"I'll have a talk with the Consul this afternoon, but if Isabelle likes
+you as well as I do, your case is safe right now."
+
+Isabelle fell upon Wally and hugged him. The next victim was Miss Watts.
+
+"I know you'll be happy, my dear. You know how to take care of her,
+Captain O'Leary."
+
+"Trust me," he said.
+
+Isabelle went and stood in front of her mother.
+
+"Well?" said Isabelle.
+
+"I think you ought to kiss me, don't you?"
+
+She did.
+
+"It is ridiculous for you to be engaged before you're out," remarked
+Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Max, I never intended to come out. I made up my mind about that long
+ago."
+
+Max shrugged her shoulders and held out a hand to Larry.
+
+"I'm glad we are going to have such a handsome person in the family,"
+she said.
+
+He bowed over the hand.
+
+"Ye're remindin' me that 'handsome is as handsome does.' I invite ye to
+watch me."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Don't talk any nonsense about getting married, for this child is only
+eighteen."
+
+"I'm expectin' my orders any day," he said, turning to the girl.
+
+"To go back--there?" she cried.
+
+He nodded. She went to stand in the circle of his arm.
+
+"Max, when Larry goes, I go with him, if it is to-morrow," she
+said--quietly, firmly.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+No more was said about it at that time, but it was an issue that had to
+be faced very shortly. Two halcyon weeks followed for the lovers, and
+then for Larry a summons came. He brought the news to her one afternoon.
+When he came into the room she knew. She went into his arms with a
+little cry--
+
+"Dearest, when?"
+
+He held her close for a moment.
+
+"I must sail on Saturday, belovedest."
+
+He felt the shiver that went through her, but she made no protest.
+
+"I can be ready," she said.
+
+"Little love, I've been thinkin', maybe ye'd better not go. Maybe ye'd
+better stay here and wait for me."
+
+"I'll wait for you, just as close to those dreadful trenches as they'll
+let me come!" she said, fiercely.
+
+She summoned the family and told them the news. She wished to be
+married on the morrow and sail with her boy on Saturday.
+
+"But you've got no clothes!" protested Max.
+
+"We'll be married to-morrow at five, Max; here or in a church, whichever
+you say."
+
+"Here, of course," said Wally.
+
+"We don't want any fuss, or people, or excitement. I will pack to-night
+so that Larry and I may have the whole day free to-morrow," said
+Isabelle, with a quiet authority that silenced them all.
+
+For once Max let her have it her own way. She had always dreamed of
+Isabelle's wedding as a big fashionable event. It was like her daughter
+to do it this way. She actually went off for the entire day with her
+lover, coming back only in time to dress.
+
+There were no guests except Miss Watts and Martin Christiansen. Major
+O'Dell, whose orders took him back on the ship with them, acted as best
+man for Larry. Just as she was hurrying downstairs, Isabelle met Wally,
+waiting for her. He slipped a box into her hand and said brokenly:
+
+"Little secret between us, Isabelle. I know you're going to be happy
+with this chap, but I'm frightened,--it's all such a gamble!"
+
+She put her arms about him and kissed him tenderly. He felt that she had
+grown into a woman over night.
+
+"It's all right, dear. I'm not frightened. I'm sure!"
+
+"Lord, but I'll miss you!"
+
+"Dear old Wally--dear old Wally!" she said very close to tears.
+
+It was a simple brief ceremony, this wedding. They were all a little
+solemn with the thought of what this world in dissolution might hold for
+these radiant young lovers. Larry O'Leary's face was something to
+remember, when Isabelle plighted him her troth, and there was a sudden
+womanly dignity in Isabelle's bearing that made the eyes smart.
+
+But later, at the wedding supper, no one could resist the boyish
+happiness of Larry. He swept them all into his joyousness, and when the
+time came for their farewells, there were no tears, only good wishes and
+high hopes.
+
+In the motor car on the way to the hotel, Larry's arm held Isabelle
+close.
+
+"Wee wife," he said, softly; "wee wife."
+
+There was no need of words, their happiness was folded round them like a
+cloak. They dined in their sitting room, as merry as larks.
+
+"Happy, darlin'?" he asked her.
+
+"I suppose that's what you call it! I've got a whole new world, Larry.
+That's your wedding gift to me!"
+
+He kissed her hair and went into the other room for a second. When he
+came back he held something behind him.
+
+"Heart of me," said he, "I've a confession!"
+
+"Larry!"
+
+"It's only luck that you're here to-night."
+
+"What?"
+
+"There once was a leprechaun visited me in the night, and she left me
+something to know her by. I've been lookin' for her ever since. I swore
+I'd marry her when I found her!"
+
+"Yes?"--anxiously.
+
+"Will ye see if ye'll fit my leprechaun coat?"
+
+He held out the orange-and-black Chinese coat, and laid it about her
+shoulders.
+
+"Larry! it was you!"
+
+"Yes, darlin', an isn't it luck that it's _you_!"
+
+The coat and its owner were folded close to Larry's heart. Both of them
+had come home.
+
+
+                                THE END.
+
+
+
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                         THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS
+
+                           GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+
+Spacing around ellipses and em-dashes is as in the original.
+
+An oe-ligature was used in the words manoeuvre and Phoebe. These have
+been replaced with the letters oe.
+
+The following corrections have been made to the text:
+
+    Page 6: "{original had a single quotation mark}Well, if you want
+    her to go to this party, you'd better make a bargain with her. I
+    know her."
+
+    Page 12: "{original had a single quotation mark}I'm free an' a
+    half, an' I don't take off my cloves at a party,"
+
+    Page 14: "{original had a single quotation mark}Why?"
+
+    Page 32: There was something about the little
+    beggar----{original had superfluous closing quotation mark}
+
+    Page 46: "Put her down and let{original had ler} her walk then.
+
+    Page 67: "Most flattering. I would prefer that."{original
+    omitted closing quotation mark}
+
+    Page 68: "Very well. I'll wear a white linen dress, with a black
+    belt, and my black hat," announced the girl.{original had
+    superfluous closing quotation mark}
+
+    Page 148: "I want thee to eat some lunch, my Isabelle."{original
+    had a single quotation mark}
+
+    Page 183: "{original omitted opening quotation mark}Yes," she
+    replied, "but it's chronic in our family!"
+
+    Page 233: Major O'Dell and Captain{original had Captaim}
+    O'Leary, the latter looking very white,
+
+    Page 238: "Give{original had Giver} her a spoon to play with,
+    Larry, and pay some attention to me."
+
+    Page 242: She nodded. He fell in step beside her.{original
+    omitted the period}
+
+    Page 264: "I didn't know. What's this trouble ye speak
+    of?"{original had a single quotation mark}
+
+The following words appear with and without a hyphen. They have been
+left as in the original.
+
+    godlike/god-like
+
+    hothouse/hot-house
+
+    pincushion/pin-cushion
+
+    rewrote/re-wrote
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cricket, by Marjorie Cooke
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRICKET ***
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cricket, by Marjorie Cooke
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Cricket
+
+Author: Marjorie Cooke
+
+Illustrator: J. Scott Williams
+
+Release Date: April 16, 2008 [EBook #25081]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRICKET ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Bell, Andrew Wainwright, Joe Free and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p class="center s2 pad1both">THE CRICKET</p>
+
+<p class="center pad2bot"><i>Books by the Same Author</i></p>
+
+<p class="center smcap pad2bot">Bambi<br />
+Cinderella Jane<br />
+&ldquo;Dr. David&rdquo;<br />
+The Dual Alliance<br />
+The Girl Who Lived in the Woods<br />
+The Threshold</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter w400"><a id="Frontispiece" name="Frontispiece" href="images/i004.jpg">
+<img class="noborder" src="images/i004tn.jpg" width="400" alt="Frontispiece" title="Frontispiece" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&ldquo;<i>What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a
+birthday party?&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. All the children in the colony are asked to come and
+play with you, and you make a monkey of yourself</i>&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="center s3 pad2bot">THE CRICKET</p>
+
+<p class="center s6 pad4bot">BY<br />
+MARJORIE BENTON COOKE</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter w10">
+<img class="w100 noborder" src="images/i005.png" alt="Publisher's Logo" title="Publisher's Logo" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center s6 pad2bot"><i>ILLUSTRATED BY<br />
+J. SCOTT WILLIAMS</i></p>
+
+<p class="center s6"><span class="smcap">Garden City&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;New York</span><br />
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY<br />
+1919</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="center pad2top"><i>Copyright, 1919, by</i></p>
+
+<p class="center pad1bothsmcap">Doubleday, Page &amp; Company</p>
+
+<p class="center pad1both"><i>All rights reserved, including that of<br />
+translations into foreign languages,<br />
+including the Scandinavian</i></p>
+
+<p class="center pad2top"><i>Copyright, 1918, 1919, by</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">The International Magazine Company</span><br />
+(Harper&rsquo;s Bazar)</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2 class="pad1bot"><a id="CONTENTS" name="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="center" id="ltoc">
+<table class="iefix" summary="Table of Contents (part one)">
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_ONE">CHAPTER ONE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWO">CHAPTER TWO</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_THREE">CHAPTER THREE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR">CHAPTER FOUR</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE">CHAPTER FIVE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIX">CHAPTER SIX</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVEN">CHAPTER SEVEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHT">CHAPTER EIGHT</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_NINE">CHAPTER NINE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TEN">CHAPTER TEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVEN">CHAPTER ELEVEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWELVE">CHAPTER TWELVE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEEN">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEEN">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTEEN">CHAPTER FIFTEEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTEEN">CHAPTER SIXTEEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class="center" id="rtoc">
+<table class="iefix" summary="Table of Contents (part two)">
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_NINETEEN">CHAPTER NINETEEN</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY">CHAPTER TWENTY</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE">CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO">CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE">CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR">CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE">CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-SIX">CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-SEVEN">CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-EIGHT">CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-NINE">CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTY">CHAPTER THIRTY</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="l"><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTY-ONE">CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE</a></td><td class="r"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="pad4top" />
+
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="iefix" summary="List of Illustrations">
+
+<tr><td class="l hang">&ldquo;What do you mean by acting like this when I
+give you a birthday party?&rdquo;</td>
+<td class="r"><a href="#Frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="l"><p class="fudgeloi">(<i>See
+<a href="#Page_6">page&nbsp;6</a></i>)</p></td><td></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td></td><td class="r s9 smcap">facing page</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="l hang">She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together</td>
+<td class="r"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="l hang">&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve made my summer for me, little witch,&rdquo; Cartel said</td>
+<td class="r"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="l hang">&ldquo;Ye&rsquo;re a comfortable cricket, when ye want to
+be. I&rsquo;d like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!&rdquo;</td>
+<td class="r"><a href="#Page_242">240</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg&nbsp;1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1><a name="THE_CRICKET" id="THE_CRICKET"></a>THE CRICKET</h1>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg&nbsp;3]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t have it! I won&rsquo;t have it! If they come, I&rsquo;ll run away and
+hide!&rdquo; shouted the child, wildly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That will be very rude. No one acts like that&mdash;no one except a
+barbarian,&rdquo; said Miss Wilder, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to be a bar&mdash;&mdash;one of those things you said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You act like one most of the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child brain caught at a new idea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What <i>is</i> that&mdash;that what you said?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Barbarian? B-a-r-b-a-r-i-a-n,&rdquo; she spelled slowly. &ldquo;It is a savage
+creature with no manners, no morals, no clothes even. It lives in a hut
+or a tree, and eats roots and nuts, and nearly raw meat,&rdquo; Miss Wilder
+remarked, none too accurately, but slowly, in order to distract
+Isabelle&rsquo;s attention from the late subject of unpleasantness. The little
+girl considered her words thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do they have children?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where do they live?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, strange places; Fiji Islands, for one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are there any near here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not that I know of.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to go live with the bar-barbarians.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg&nbsp;4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Miss Wilder&rsquo;s stern face underwent no change. She answered seriously:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You would not like it; you would be very uncomfortable. The children
+have no pretty clothes, no nice homes with gardens to play in, no kind
+parents or patient teachers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do they have horses?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do they swim?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Probably. They have rude boats called dug-outs,&rdquo; continued Miss Wilder,
+glad of an absorbing subject.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do the children go in the boats?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No doubt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They can&rsquo;t get their clothes spoiled if they don&rsquo;t wear any.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Obviously. Come, now, Isabelle, put on your dress like a nice girl. The
+children will be coming to the party, and you won&rsquo;t be dressed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <i>won&rsquo;t</i> put on that dress, and I&rsquo;m <i>not</i> going to the party, I tell
+you; I <i>hate</i> them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wilder tried force, but in vain. She tried strategy, with no
+results. Isabelle wriggled out of her grasp and darted out of the room.
+Miss Wilder called; no reply. She commanded; no answer. Then she closed
+her lips more firmly and betook herself to the door of Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s
+room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it? I told you not to bother me,&rdquo; an irritated voice called, at
+her knock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, but Isabelle refuses to be dressed for the
+party. She says she won&rsquo;t go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg&nbsp;5]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; called the voice.</p>
+
+<p>The governess opened the door and entered. It was a hot day, and Mrs.
+Bryce, in a cool n&eacute;glig&eacute;, lay stretched out on a <i>chaise longue</i>, with a
+pitcher of something iced beside her, a book open on her lap. She was
+the picture of luxurious comfort, except for the frown upon her pretty
+brow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you make her behave, Miss Wilder?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do my best, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, but she is very difficult,&rdquo; the older woman
+sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course she&rsquo;s difficult&mdash;she&rsquo;s a brat! But that is what I have you
+for, to teach her some manners, and make her act like a civilized being.
+Where is she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She ran away when I tried to put her dress on her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you expect me to do about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought you might order her to get dressed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Much good it would do! I don&rsquo;t see why I have to be bothered with it. I
+didn&rsquo;t want the party; it&rsquo;s a perfect nuisance, cluttering up the place
+with noisy kids; but she owes it to them, and she has to have them here
+once a season.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A small, determined figure appeared at the door, in a brief petticoat
+and socks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t go to that party,&rdquo; she announced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come here to me this instant,&rdquo; exploded her mother at sight of her.</p>
+
+<p>The child walked slowly to her mother&rsquo;s side, with disconcerting
+dignity, all out of proportion to her four brief years.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg&nbsp;6]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a birthday party?
+There is everything on earth ordered to eat, and all the children in the
+colony are asked to come and play with you, and you make a monkey of
+yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why won&rsquo;t you go?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t ask Patsy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t ask that common little Irishman to a <i>party</i>,&rdquo; objected her
+parent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t go. He&rsquo;s my friend. I like him best, an&rsquo; if he don&rsquo;t come, I
+won&rsquo;t go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s <i>your</i> party&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate &rsquo;em.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to whip her!&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce said to the governess.</p>
+
+<p>A maid appeared at the door to announce the first arrivals.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, you see, your guests are coming, and you aren&rsquo;t even dressed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; reiterated the child, sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If we ask Patsy, will you go?&rdquo; asked Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce desperately.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;o; yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put on her clothes, Miss Wilder, and telephone the Lodge that Isabelle
+wants Patsy for her party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, do you think we ought to humour her? Will not the
+children&rsquo;s mothers object to Patsy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if you want her to go to this party, you&rsquo;d better make a bargain
+with her. I know her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg&nbsp;7]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on. Hurry up, Miss Wilder; I want to go after Patsy myself,&rdquo;
+cried the tyrant, racing down the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wilder followed, and Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce turned to her book, with a sense of
+irritated futility which her only child always aroused in her. But the
+party soon faded from her mind, save when shrill shouts from the lawn
+below caught her attention.</p>
+
+<p>Eventually Mr.&nbsp;Walter Bryce, familiarly known as Wally, appeared at his
+wife&rsquo;s door. He was an undersized, dapper little man, with almost no
+chin. His sole claim to attention lay in the millions accumulated by his
+father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nice row you&rsquo;ve got on down stairs,&rdquo; he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle&rsquo;s birthday party,&rdquo; yawned his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Looks to me like poor old Wilder&rsquo;s birthday party. Just as I came
+along, a line of kids was marching up to give their hostess their
+presents. Old Wilder was hanging on to Isabelle so she wouldn&rsquo;t bolt,
+and the little beast wouldn&rsquo;t take one of the packages. Said she didn&rsquo;t
+want their presents. The poor Wilder appealed to me, and I told Isabelle
+to act like a lady, and whadye think she said to me&mdash;right there before
+all those smart-aleck kids?&mdash;&lsquo;Get out, Wally, this is my party&rsquo;!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to know better than to give her a chance like that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here now, Max, she&rsquo;s got to be attended to. She&rsquo;s the limit. She&rsquo;s
+got no more manners than an alley cat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s no news to me, Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you do something about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg&nbsp;8]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do something? Don&rsquo;t I get her a new governess every month? Nobody can
+do anything with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see where she gets it,&rdquo; said Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She gets it from you, and she gets it from me. She&rsquo;s the worst of both
+of us personified.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor kid, that&rsquo;s tough luck for her&rdquo;&mdash;seriously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A little late for vain regrets&rdquo;&mdash;sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>He went over to the window and looked down at the party scattered about
+below.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why wouldn&rsquo;t it be a good idea to keep her with you awhile every day,
+Max?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not much! I come down here to rest, not to play nursemaid. You might
+take her round with you, if you feel that she needs uplifting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s beyond me. I don&rsquo;t understand her; and, on the whole, I don&rsquo;t
+like her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody likes her; she&rsquo;s <i>queer</i>. And plain; my word, why do you suppose
+I had to have a child that looks like that? She hasn&rsquo;t one good point.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Um&mdash;she&rsquo;s got eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Great big goopy eyes too big for her head! This parent business is too
+much of a gamble. If you could go pick out a nice blue-eyed,
+pink-and-white, ready-made infant&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you should have picked out a pink-and-white ready-made
+husband, if you wanted that kind,&rdquo; Wally interposed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I never would have picked out Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;After all, you&rsquo;re her mother, Max,&rdquo; he began.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg&nbsp;9]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Wally, don&rsquo;t begin on that mother stuff. I didn&rsquo;t want her
+any more than you did, and we were fools to have her. That may be
+abnormal, unnatural, and all the rest of it, but it&rsquo;s the truth, and
+there are lots of other women just like me. You can&rsquo;t lump us, any more
+than you can lump men. We don&rsquo;t all of us have the maternal instinct,
+not by a long shot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk like that, Max; it&rsquo;s not nice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There you go. It&rsquo;s all right for you not to want a child, but it&rsquo;s
+indecent in me. That&rsquo;s a man-made idea, and it won&rsquo;t work any more. Lots
+of us don&rsquo;t find motherhood either satisfying or interesting, and we&rsquo;re
+getting courage enough to say so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The less you say about it, the better,&rdquo; counselled Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To get back to Isabelle, she&rsquo;s here, and she&rsquo;s just as much your
+responsibility as she is mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Being here isn&rsquo;t her fault, poor kid. Seems as if somebody ought
+to&mdash;well&mdash;love her,&rdquo; he finished in embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go ahead. I&rsquo;ve no objection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce returned to her book.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove, Max, you&rsquo;re hard as rocks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, get out, Wally. I&rsquo;m not interested in your conversation. Go liven
+up the party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you try a younger governess, for a change?&rdquo; he went on,
+undeterred. &ldquo;Wilder is so old and sort of set.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce closed her book with irritated finality.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg&nbsp;10]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, I will give you a chance at running our darling child for the
+rest of this summer. I declare a strike! You get her governesses, you
+donate your society to her. You&rsquo;ve got nothing to do. She may keep you
+out of mischief.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I say, I don&rsquo;t want to butt in, I only thought&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s yours. I&rsquo;m through until September first.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was an uproar from below, louder than before. Wally looked out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder what they&rsquo;re up to,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>A maid, red and flustered, appeared at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, please come down to the party. Isabelle ran away with
+Patsy and we&rsquo;ve just found her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, oblivious of her costume, followed Mr.&nbsp;Bryce and the maid
+down the stairs, as fast as possible. Evidently a crisis had occurred
+below. All the girls in their white dresses and pink or blue sashes, all
+the boys in their white collars of ceremony, were grouped about on the
+lawn, around the base of a big shade tree. Pink hair bows were a-flutter
+with excitement. The patent leather pumps of the boys trod upon the
+white slippers of the little girls in their efforts to see what was
+happening.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the tree stood Miss Wilder red and tired, speaking
+sternly to some one overhead. Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce rushed to join her,
+brushing children aside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter, Miss Wilder?&rdquo; demanded Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, she&rsquo;s&mdash;she&rsquo;s&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle Bryce, come down here this moment,&rdquo; commanded her mother,
+loudly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a whispered colloquy overhead, among the branches.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That wretched Patsy is with her,&rdquo; wailed Miss Wilder.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg&nbsp;11]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;They ran away, and hid for hours, and then we found them up here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle!&rdquo; shouted her father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right. We&rsquo;re going to drop,&rdquo; said a voice from above.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly two white and shining little bodies hung side by side from a
+limb, then two naked youngsters dropped into the midst of the astounded
+party.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle Bryce!&rdquo; gasped her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re playing barbarian,&rdquo; said Isabelle, coolly; &ldquo;Miss Wilder told me
+about them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Wilder!&rdquo; protested Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I didn&rsquo;t&mdash;I mean&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You said they lived in trees and never wore clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The children began to titter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is your affair, I believe, Wally,&rdquo; remarked Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, and she
+walked in a leisurely way into the house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I say,&rdquo; he called after her; then: &ldquo;Get her indoors, will you?
+Who&rsquo;s the boy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The gardener&rsquo;s child, Patsy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are your clothes?&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Up in the tree, sorr,&rdquo; said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get them, and cut home,&rdquo; said Wally, severely.</p>
+
+<p>Patsy obeyed, but Isabelle resisted force. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t hurry and I won&rsquo;t be
+carried, I&rsquo;ll walk,&rdquo; said she, and&mdash;properly clad in her &ldquo;birthday
+clothes&rdquo;&mdash;Isabelle Bryce disposed of her first party!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg&nbsp;12]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h2>
+
+<p>Following upon the exit of his daughter came the realization to Wally
+that something must be done about the &ldquo;party.&rdquo; He turned to the group of
+children, huddled together in horror, like butterflies in a rain storm.
+Serious and large-eyed, they focussed their attention upon him, in the
+apparent belief that, being a parent, he would be able to handle this
+unprecedented situation. They ranged in age from three to six; they were
+the children of his neighbours and life-long associates; and yet Wally
+had the feeling that he was hemmed in by a pack of alert, curious little
+animals.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, children,&rdquo; he managed to say, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry that Isabelle was such a
+naughty girl at her own party, but she is only four years old, we must
+remember, and I suppose she did not know any better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m free an&rsquo; a half, an&rsquo; I don&rsquo;t take off my cloves at a party,&rdquo;
+bragged one of the female infants.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m sure you don&rsquo;t. It isn&rsquo;t done,&rdquo; said Wally, helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She always spoils parties. I wanted not to have her at mine, but mother
+made me,&rdquo; remarked Tommy Page.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hard luck, old man,&rdquo; said Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She always wants to boss everything,&rdquo; Margie Hunter complained.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg&nbsp;13]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you going to whip her?&rdquo; demanded another child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She will be punished, believe me,&rdquo; replied Wally, firmly. &ldquo;But I think
+we&rsquo;d better call the party over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t go yet, the nurses and chauffeurs haven&rsquo;t come,&rdquo; Tommy
+protested. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d like to hear her yell when she&rsquo;s licked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our man will take you all home in the big station wagon, so get on your
+hats,&rdquo; Wally ordered.</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later the smallest child was packed in, with one of the
+maids in command, and the motor slid off down the drive, leaving Wally
+on the door step.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Little beasts!&rdquo; he remarked, feelingly.</p>
+
+<p>In the hall he met Miss Wilder, still bearing marks of the late
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have put Isabelle to bed, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce. Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce says that you are to
+prescribe her punishment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally looked his misery.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to punish her. Can&rsquo;t you manage it alone?&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I cannot. Isabelle needs the authority of her parents now and then
+to back me up,&rdquo; said Miss Wilder, severely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll have a talk with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think a severe spanking is what she needs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do ye suppose ever put such an idea in her head?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You never know what she is going to do. She asked me about barbarians
+when I was trying to induce her to get dressed for the party. I told her
+some facts, just to occupy her mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It occupied her mind all right,&rdquo; laughed Wally, who
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg&nbsp;14]</a></span>
+
+left Miss Wilder with the idea that he thought the joke was at her
+expense. She determined to give notice at once, and leave at the end of
+her month.</p>
+
+<p>Wally went upstairs and turned his unaccustomed feet into the nursery.
+He hesitated before he opened the door, but no sounds of repentant sobs
+met his ear, so he went in. Isabelle, the picture of alert interest, sat
+up in bed and eyed him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you come to punish me?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Something like that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go ahead,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at her. Max was right; she
+was no prize beauty, with her baby face like an old woman&rsquo;s, with her
+nondescript features, her short brown hair. But her eyes were
+disturbing&mdash;big dusky, wise eyes, with no effect of childishness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Isabelle, why do you act like this?&rdquo; That was regular
+parent-talk, so she made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here you are, four years old, and you can&rsquo;t behave at your own party,&rdquo;
+he continued.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate parties.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, but you have to have parties.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, all children do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nasty things! I hate &rsquo;em all, except Patsy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hate those nice little girls?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo;&mdash;hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And those handsome boys?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. They&rsquo;re ugly. Patsy is handsome.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why are you so crazy about this Patsy?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg&nbsp;15]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because he always does what I say.&rdquo; Wally stifled a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t you know you mustn&rsquo;t take off your clothes before mixed
+company?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But we were playing barbarian.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you shouldn&rsquo;t play that kind of game.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He floundered. &ldquo;Now, look here, you must never take off
+your clothes again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not when I go to bed?&rdquo;&mdash;with interest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean before people.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not before Miss Wilder, or Mary?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be stupid,&rdquo; he exploded. &ldquo;You know what I mean&mdash;before boys and
+girls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because it isn&rsquo;t nice. Don&rsquo;t you know what modesty is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; what is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s&mdash;it&rsquo;s&mdash;well, it&rsquo;s just that you mustn&rsquo;t show your body to people.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t my face my body?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s different. Everybody shows his face.&rdquo; She considered that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If everybody showed their bodies it would be nice, wouldn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Wally said, harshly, because he felt she was making a fool of him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But the barbarians never wore any clothes, and they were nice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s different. They didn&rsquo;t know any better.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg&nbsp;16]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t they? Why didn&rsquo;t God tell them any better?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did Jesus wear clothes?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; he demanded, caught unawares.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jesus. You know, God&rsquo;s boy,&rdquo; she replied, earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course he wore clothes,&rdquo; Wally protested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t he tell the barbarians?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O Lord, I don&rsquo;t know. This has got nothing to do with your performance
+this afternoon,&rdquo; Wally urged, trying to get back to the subject and on
+to solid ground.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What kind of punishing are you going to do?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;What do you think I ought to do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She thought about that with awakened interest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s whipping, but I don&rsquo;t mind that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. There&rsquo;s shutting up, but that&rsquo;s fun. I play I&rsquo;m a prisoner then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are there any punishments you don&rsquo;t like?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Parties are punishment, and kindiegarden in winter is punishment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You think the party this afternoon was punishment, do you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who punished you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish you wouldn&rsquo;t call your mother &lsquo;Max.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg&nbsp;17]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you call her that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because you do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t have to be respectful to her&mdash;I mean&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you call her that, I&rsquo;m going to,&rdquo; she said, dismissing that subject.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re being punished now, you know, being sent off to bed in broad
+daylight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I like it, when you talk to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He rose promptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to talk to you. Your punishment is that nobody will talk
+to you for the rest of the day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right&rdquo;&mdash;cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll just lie here, all alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; she corrected him, &ldquo;my playmates will be here, and God&rsquo;s
+always around.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No playmates shall come in here,&rdquo; he reiterated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you can&rsquo;t keep Dorothy and Reginald out, because they&rsquo;re just
+pretend,&rdquo; she defied him.</p>
+
+<p>Wally knew he was beaten. He had never felt so futile in his life. She
+sat there with her straight little back, her wise eyes fixed on him, and
+he wished he were well out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you will lie here and think of what I have said to you,&rdquo; he
+remarked sonorously. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m surprised at you, Isabelle,&rdquo; he added sternly.</p>
+
+<p>He rose and hurried toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good night, Wally,&rdquo; she said pleasantly, and smiled at him.</p>
+
+<p>It is not too much to say that Wally fled. He sought out his wife, who
+was dressing for dinner.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg&nbsp;18]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, did you whip her?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>He evaded that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had a good talk with her&rdquo;&mdash;firmly.</p>
+
+<p>She turned her face over her shoulder at him, and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Terrified her, no doubt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where on earth does she get her ideas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not from me,&mdash;&rdquo; indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s&mdash;she&rsquo;s uncanny, that kid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hurry and dress, we&rsquo;re dining at the club. I wish you the joy of your
+job,&rdquo; she added, as he left her.</p>
+
+<p>A day or two later, when Wally came out of the bath house on the way to
+swim, he encountered his daughter on the beach.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll swim with you, Wally,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks. I&rsquo;m going to the raft.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her and laughed. She looked like a Kewpie in her
+abbreviated bathing suit, with water wings fastened to her back. She
+walked rapidly into the sea, and, perforce, he followed. Miss Wilder
+shouted orders in vain from the shore. The tide was running in, and
+nearly high, so she was over her depth in a second, but she paddled out
+toward the distant raft, her head well out of the water, thanks to her
+wings. Much amused, Wally swam beside her into deep water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was a great surprise to me, the day I found I could swim,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It must have been,&rdquo; he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was a pleasant day,&rdquo; she added.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg&nbsp;19]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is deep here,&rdquo; he said, to test her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know it. Don&rsquo;t you put your hands on me, Wally. I don&rsquo;t want to be
+touched,&rdquo; she admonished him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you afraid?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In due time they reached the raft. The youngster was winded, but
+undaunted. Bryce watched her with real admiration. Here was a dare-devil
+courage he vastly respected. He was timid and cautious himself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Throw me off the raft, Wally; I like to splash,&rdquo; she ordered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re crazy,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. Mr.&nbsp;Page threw me off the club raft, when I asked him to.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Better not let me catch him at it. You sit still and get your breath
+and then we&rsquo;ll start back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He dived off the raft and instantly she followed him. He caught her by
+the arm, strangling and coughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You little devil,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll drown.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I won&rsquo;t. Let go, Wally; I won&rsquo;t be helped.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He headed her for shore, by pretending to race her, and once on land he
+urged Miss Wilder to watch her every minute, lest she swim for the raft
+alone.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg&nbsp;20]</a></span></p>
+<p>But this adventure had fixed Isabelle on her father&rsquo;s mind. He thought
+about her a good deal, and laughed at the thought. She certainly was a
+sport, and she was nobody&rsquo;s fool. He wondered if other children were
+like her, and began to watch them. He asked their fathers about them,
+but the fathers never knew. They always said: &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see much of the
+kids; too busy,&rdquo; or: &ldquo;That&rsquo;s Mabel&rsquo;s job (or Kate&rsquo;s or Mary&rsquo;s).&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He could not seem to remember seeing much of his father when he was a
+boy, save on state occasions when his parent was called upon to
+administer extra stiff punishment. He wondered if the other mothers knew
+more about their youngsters than Max did about hers? But when he asked
+them at the club, or on the golf course, they looked surprised and said:
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about them, Wally; the governess looks after
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It evidently wasn&rsquo;t the thing, in their set, to bother about children.
+So he did not get much help from his friends in the difficult situation
+in which Max had placed him. She stood by her determination to leave the
+child to him, with irritating completeness. She even refused to give
+advice or help.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, he could leave well enough alone, let Miss Wilder blunder
+along with her somehow. That was evidently the way the rest of them did.
+He had almost decided upon this course, when he met Isabelle, standing
+on the pony&rsquo;s bare back, making him run, while poor Miss Wilder panted
+behind, protesting at every step.</p>
+
+<p>It brought him to a resolution. The kid ought to have a younger woman to
+look after her, one who could swim and ride and take some interest in
+her sports. If she was going to leap head first into every danger, she
+needed a girl to stand by, and leap in after her, if necessary.</p>
+
+<p>It took him several days to get up his nerve to dismiss Miss Wilder, but
+in the end, she met him half way. She said she could not stand the
+strain, that she had aged ten
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg&nbsp;21]</a></span>
+
+years in the two months she had been in charge of his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a very remarkable child, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce, and she needs very special
+treatment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose that is it. I will give you a month&rsquo;s extra salary, Miss
+Wilder, so you may take a rest. I know you need it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next morning he bustled into Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s room, where she was taking
+her breakfast in bed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mercy, Wally, are you sick?&rdquo; she inquired; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s barely nine o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to go to town.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Town, this hot day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I fired old Wilder and I&rsquo;ve got to get a new victim for our
+offspring. Where do you get &rsquo;em?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Wally,&rdquo; laughed his wife. &ldquo;I advertise, or go to teachers&rsquo;
+agencies, or any old way. Telephone in, and they&rsquo;ll send you something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; I&rsquo;m going to get a young one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And pretty, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be an idiot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He turned as the door opened and Isabelle came in. She was booted and
+hatted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good morning, Max,&rdquo; she said, sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Morning. Where are you going?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To town, with Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I thought I&rsquo;d better take her. She has to live with &rsquo;em, you
+know, and she has ideas on the subject.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce laughed aloud.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg&nbsp;22]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You two!&rdquo; she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, Wally,&rdquo; urged Isabelle, taking her father by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which car are you using?&rdquo; inquired Max.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She prefers the train,&rdquo; he explained.</p>
+
+<p>This brought another outburst of mirth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My word, Wally! You&rsquo;re becoming a wonderful parent!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs.
+Bryce; and they fled before her laughter.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg&nbsp;23]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h2>
+
+<p>Wally was surprised to find the trip to town shorter than usual. His
+daughter conducted herself with great dignity, and never missed a thing.
+An unbroken stream of conversation flowed from her lips, to the
+amusement of the people in the seats near by.</p>
+
+<p>There was one difficult moment, when in hurrying for their seats, Mrs.
+Page spied them out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For goodness sake, Wally, where are you going?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Taking Isabelle to town.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Without a nurse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have a governess, not a nurse,&rdquo; protested Isabelle, indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, excuse me,&rdquo; laughed Mrs.&nbsp;Page. &ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Max?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Home in bed,&rdquo; replied Isabelle, before Wally had formed an excuse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hear your infant introduced an Adam-and-Eve scene into her party,&rdquo;
+Mrs.&nbsp;Page continued.</p>
+
+<p>Wally glanced anxiously at Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is Tommy Page&rsquo;s mother,&rdquo; he explained.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know. He&rsquo;s a horrid boy,&rdquo; she answered, feelingly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Page retired after this, and Wally undertook to argue with his
+daughter about unbecoming frankness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s <i>true</i>,&rdquo; she protested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t have to tell everything you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg&nbsp;24]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you have to tell the truth?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not when it hurts people&rsquo;s feelings.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She thought that over, and he wondered what she would make of it. The
+little monkey seemed to remember every word that was said to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s have a punkin coach taxi,&rdquo; she said when they arrived in town.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What kind is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All yellow, like the Cinderella one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They don&rsquo;t have them at this station.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make them get us one,&rdquo; urged the young arrogant.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and they went out into the street and waited until a yellow
+taxi came. As they took their seats in the coach, Isabelle gazed at her
+father speculatively.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am Cinderella, an&rsquo; you&rsquo;ve got to be the Fairy God-mother, I s&rsquo;pose,
+but you don&rsquo;t look like her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t I be the Prince?&rdquo; inquired Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. Besides, he didn&rsquo;t ride in the coach,&rdquo; she corrected him,
+scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>They stopped at a drug shop to get a list of agencies, picked at random
+from the telephone book. The first one was very depressing. There were
+several governesses, but Isabelle would have none of them, and Wally did
+not blame her. The second agency offered to summon a dozen candidates if
+he would come back in two hours. He agreed to that, and made the same
+arrangement with the third place.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, we&rsquo;ve got two hours to kill. What do you want to do?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to go on top the &rsquo;bus.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg&nbsp;25]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s too hot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s what I want to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right, come along,&rdquo; he said, aware of what her determination
+usually accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>He thought of Max, and felt himself absolutely martyred. This was her
+job. She was a slacker to put it off on him. In his irritation he
+glanced down at the cause of it, and found her looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, does the hot make you sick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We could go to the Zoo in a taxi.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, I should prefer that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right&rdquo;&mdash;cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a good old thing!&rdquo; he remarked, as he called a second coach.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>They inspected the animals, and endured the awful smells thereof, with
+great satisfaction on the part of Isabelle and much self-restraint on
+the part of her parent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t we have a gorilla out at The Beeches, Wally?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord, no! What do you want of a beast like that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like them. They&rsquo;re so .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. different!&rdquo; she said, hesitating over the
+adjective.</p>
+
+<p>Wally burst out laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think they are?&rdquo; she inquired politely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, all of that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On the way back to the agency, he counselled her on her behaviour.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg&nbsp;26]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, don&rsquo;t be fresh, Isabelle, and say, &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t like the wart on your
+nose,&rsquo; or that kind of thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do I have to get one with a wart on her nose?&rdquo; she asked seriously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no. I mean&mdash;don&rsquo;t say the wrong thing all the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t know what is the wrong thing, Wally,&rdquo; she assured him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should say you didn&rsquo;t! You just let me do the talking. If you like
+the one I&rsquo;m interviewing, just nod; if you don&rsquo;t, why shake your head.
+Get me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Like this?&rdquo;&mdash;with neck-breaking violence of the head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no. Gently, like this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They seated themselves in the agency room, and the governesses were
+presented. The usual drab, rather faded women, used to living in the
+background. Some of them resented Isabelle&rsquo;s presence, some of them
+spoke to her as to a baby. After about three sentences had been spoken,
+her head would move violently, and Wally got rid of the candidate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord! they&rsquo;re a sad lot,&rdquo; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What makes them sad?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Kids like you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They finished the first consignment without any luck, and went to the
+second place. It was simply a repetition. Isabelle seemed to sense their
+adhesion to type, for she finally burst out with:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, I&rsquo;d <i>like</i> one with a wart on the nose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He finally approached the woman in charge.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg&nbsp;27]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;we want a young one, with some pep.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woman stared in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t there some place where the new ones go to register?&rdquo; he
+continued.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You might try the college agencies. Their graduates sometimes try
+governessing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She gave him some addresses.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks. I think we&rsquo;ll try them. My daughter, here, is rather exacting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The manager peered over her desk at the child, hostilely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like you, either,&rdquo; said Isabelle, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>Wally hurried her out. He was about worn out with this unaccustomed and
+exhausting strain. It had been years since Wally spent a whole day
+boring himself. His rage at Max grew, and he vented it on Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For God&rsquo;s sake, don&rsquo;t sass the managers! We may have to go back there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does God care?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You said, &lsquo;for God&rsquo;s sake.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did I? Excuse me. Now go easy this time. We&rsquo;ve got to get somebody, and
+we won&rsquo;t find an archangel, either.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d like an archangel,&rdquo; she remarked earnestly, her flagging interest
+reviving. &ldquo;But she couldn&rsquo;t swim with wings, could she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally groaned, but made no reply. At the college agency, they telephoned
+for two applicants, and after what seemed to Wally a week of tedium,
+they arrived.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg&nbsp;28]</a></span>
+
+The first one was pretty and she knew it. She talked a great deal, and
+was saccharine to the little girl. Isabelle shook her head twice, but
+Wally seemed hypnotized by the woman&rsquo;s eloquence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let her talk, Wally; I won&rsquo;t have her,&rdquo; announced Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>It took considerable finesse on Wally&rsquo;s part to get this explained and
+to get the young woman out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One more remark from you, like that last one, and I will engage the
+next hatchet-face that appears,&rdquo; he thundered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is a hatchet-face?&rdquo; she asked, with interest.</p>
+
+<p>The other girl was tall, and undeniably plain. She was deeply tanned by
+the sun. She looked athletic, boyish in fact. She had a nice voice, and
+clear grey eyes. She met Isabelle&rsquo;s inspection with a grin. The child
+slid off her chair and went over to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s your name?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ann. Ann Barnes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you swim?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; smiled the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take you,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>The girl stared at Wally, who, so far, had made no explanation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is she your child?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is her mother dead?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Max is my mother,&rdquo; explained the youngster.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg&nbsp;29]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Wally, &ldquo;Isabelle is a little devil. You might as well
+know the worst at once. She&rsquo;s got no manners at all, and she&rsquo;s spoiled
+to death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, you don&rsquo;t have to tell everything you know,&rdquo; quoted Isabelle,
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my word!&rdquo; said Miss Barnes. &ldquo;How old is she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s just had her fourth birthday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she needs a nurse, not a governess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t have a nurse. I want you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s had a lot of women, mostly old ones. I told Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce I thought
+she ought to have a young woman with her, and she told me that if I knew
+so much about it, I could get her a governess myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Miss Barnes; &ldquo;and just what do you want her governess to
+do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ride and swim with her, and keep her out of mischief. I suppose you
+would teach her something&mdash;letters and counting, and all that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A governess usually does,&rdquo; she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You would have full charge of her. We live in the country from April
+till Thanksgiving, and in town the rest of the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, Ann, let&rsquo;s go; I&rsquo;m tired,&rdquo; interrupted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you aren&rsquo;t letting this baby decide who is to take care of her?&rdquo;
+she protested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought it was better. She gets rid of one a month, so in the end she
+does decide.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s so absurd.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re&mdash;we&rsquo;re an absurd family,&rdquo; he admitted, gravely.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg&nbsp;30]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk, Wally; come on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does she call you?&rdquo; Miss Barnes inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally. My name is Walter, but every one calls me Wally. She calls her
+mother Max. We try to break her of it, but we can&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Barnes shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to be a governess, you know, not a nurse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle realized that a crisis was at hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sometimes I&rsquo;m nice, aren&rsquo;t I, Wally?&rdquo; she appealed.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Barnes could not have told why, but for the first time this
+abnormal, prissy child, with her self-assurance, and her impertinence,
+caught at her sympathies. Wally saw that she wavered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose that we call it an experiment for a month. I&rsquo;ll pay a hundred
+dollars a month. Come out with us this afternoon and try it. She&rsquo;s the
+limit of a kid, but she&rsquo;s got a lot of sense for her age, and maybe
+she&rsquo;d be all right if somebody just gave her mind to her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m willing to try it for a month, if I may have full charge of her.
+Would her mother agree to that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Max is never home; besides, she never sees me,&rdquo; spoke up the child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She does see you,&rdquo; protested Wally.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle made no reply, but somehow Miss Barnes caught the
+situation&mdash;the sense of neglect, of the child&rsquo;s loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come for a month at the salary you mentioned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good. Can you pack a bag and go out on the 4:10 with us? We&rsquo;ll send you
+home in a taxi and send for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg&nbsp;31]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She considered a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She rose, explained to the head of the bureau, and later they went out
+together.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, when&rsquo;s lunch?&rdquo; demanded Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now. We&rsquo;ll send Miss Barnes off in our cab, and pick up another. A cab
+will come for you at three thirty, Miss Barnes, and we&rsquo;ll meet you at
+the Information booth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be there. Good-bye, Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye, Ann.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally and Isabelle made their way to his club, where she insisted upon
+all the <i>verboten</i> things for lunch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you allowed to eat that?&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, at parties.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t it make you sick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. You&rsquo;re always sick after parties,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>A man stopped at the table to address a few jocose remarks to Wally, and
+he turned his glance upon the small girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is your beautiful companion, Wally?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My daughter, Isabelle. This is Duncan, the Club cut-up,&rdquo; he added to
+his guest.</p>
+
+<p>She inspected the man closely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who cuts you up?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The other club members,&rdquo; he retorted, followed by laughter and applause
+from the surrounding tables. Isabelle beamed in the spotlight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like this better than Max&rsquo;s club,&rdquo; she said, to the amusement of the
+next table.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg&nbsp;32]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take us on, Wally, will you?&rdquo; called one of them, and at his
+invitation they all moved over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t look like her pretty mother, Wally,&rdquo; said one of them after
+they were presented.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, poor kid, she looks like me,&rdquo; laughed Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I look like Wally, but I&rsquo;m smart!&rdquo; she said, and beamed again at their
+uproar of mirth.</p>
+
+<p>She left, later, amidst reiterated invitations to come again. One man
+tried to kiss her, but she promptly blocked that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like kissing,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Wally inspected her on the way to the station. Her eyes were bright, her
+colour was high. She certainly had been a success at the club. There was
+something about the little beggar&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I liked those men,&rdquo; she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were too fresh,&rdquo; he said, anxious to prick the bubble of her
+egotism. She made no answer, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that
+she knew he had been proud of her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you like this new girl, and want her to stay, you&rsquo;ve got to turn
+over a new leaf,&rdquo; he warned her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t any new leaf,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To turn over a new leaf means to make a new beginning, to be good, to
+act like a lady,&rdquo; he explained.</p>
+
+<p>They found Miss Barnes waiting for them. As soon as they were in their
+seats, aboard the train, Isabelle went to sleep, leaning against her new
+friend. Miss Barnes smiled, made the child comfortable, and opened a
+magazine, thus relieving Wally of any necessity of conversation.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg&nbsp;33]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As they drove up to the house, they saw Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce come out on the
+terrace, where the butler was arranging the tea-table and chairs. She
+wore a soft pink gown, and a broad, rose-laden hat. She looked very
+young and lovely. She sauntered to meet them with her slightly
+disdainful smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Wally turned to present Miss Barnes, but Isabelle was before him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max, this is Ann Barnes,&rdquo; she explained.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce nodded at the newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did you do in town?&rdquo; she inquired of the child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Zoo, and Wally&rsquo;s club.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you don&rsquo;t confuse them,&rdquo; laughed her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t envy you your job,&rdquo; she added, over her shoulder to Miss
+Barnes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What room is Miss Barnes to have, Max?&rdquo; Wally called.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to attend to that,&rdquo; she replied, with a sort of arrogant
+disregard of Wally&rsquo;s prot&eacute;g&eacute;e.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show you, Ann,&rdquo; said Isabelle, adding: &ldquo;nasty old Max!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle! your own mother!&rdquo; protested Miss Barnes.</p>
+
+<p>The child took her by the hand and led her into the house, with a
+dignity which would have been admirable, had it not been so pathetic.
+Miss Barnes felt that she was stepping off terra firma, and lighting on
+Mars, so strange and muddled was this new world she had entered upon.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg&nbsp;34]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h2>
+
+<p>It was a strange throw of Chance that tossed Ann Barnes into the heart
+of the Bryce family&mdash;or rather into its midst, for it seemed to Ann that
+there wasn&rsquo;t any heart to the family. The first weeks she spent at The
+Beeches were positively bewildering.</p>
+
+<p>She was the eldest daughter of a small-town lawyer, in Vermont. There
+were five younger children, and after Ann&rsquo;s graduation at the State
+University, she set forth to make fame and fortune, with the ultimate
+object of rescuing her father and mother from the financial anxieties
+which had always beset them.</p>
+
+<p>She was just an average healthy, fine American girl brought up in a
+normal, small-town American family. As the eldest, she had been her
+mother&rsquo;s assistant. She had served her apprenticeship in cooking,
+nursing babies, patching small clothes, turning old things around and
+upside down, in order to make them over. She could market wisely, she
+could &ldquo;manage&rdquo; on little.</p>
+
+<p>So much for her practical training. She knew all the inconveniences and
+anxieties of an insufficient and variable income. But she also knew the
+unselfishness, the affectionate give-and-take of a big family. She knew
+what miracles the loving patience of her mother daily performed. She
+knew the selflessness of her father, which
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg&nbsp;35]</a></span>
+
+kept him at the treadmill of his profession that his children might have
+an education, might have their chance. Hospitality, kindness, love;
+these were of the very fibre of Ann&rsquo;s being.</p>
+
+<p>It was part of the trick Fate played on her that Wally&rsquo;s offer had come
+to her the first week she was in New York, when the terror of the Big
+Town had just laid hold of her. New York, contemplated from Vermont, was
+the city of all opportunity; but New York, face to face, with a
+financial reserve of fifty dollars, was a very different matter.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle had amazed and interested her, and Wally had offered her what
+seemed a fabulous salary. No wonder she had seized the opportunity, with
+happy plans of sending the first check home, intact. But daily for the
+first week, amidst the undreamed-of luxuries of The Beeches she felt
+that she must run away, back to the things she knew and understood. And
+yet every day brought her evidences of Isabelle&rsquo;s need of her, and Ann&rsquo;s
+intrinsic sense of fairness made her feel that somebody ought to stand
+by the child.</p>
+
+<p>Her first interview with Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce did not occur until the second day
+after her arrival. She waited to be summoned all of the first day, but
+heard nothing, saw nothing of her new employer. The second day she sent
+word asking for a conference. She was given an audience while Mrs.
+Bryce&rsquo;s maid was dressing her to go out to lunch. She nodded casually to
+Ann.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wanted to see me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I&mdash;I thought we would better talk over your plans for Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg&nbsp;36]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t any plans for her. My only desire is to keep her out of the
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t know what she is permitted to do,&rdquo; Ann began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is permitted to do anything she wants to,&rdquo; laughed Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But that isn&rsquo;t good for her&rdquo;&mdash;earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s glance at the girl was full of scornful amusement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, but it&rsquo;s good for the rest of us. We can&rsquo;t live in the house with
+her otherwise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ann stared. She did not know how to cope with this kind of woman. Mrs.
+Bryce made her feel a clumsy fool, a sort of country bumpkin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This isn&rsquo;t my job anyway, it&rsquo;s Wally&rsquo;s. He is guiding Isabelle&rsquo;s
+destiny this summer. Didn&rsquo;t he tell you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but I thought the child&rsquo;s mother would naturally want to say&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+blundered Ann.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, her mother doesn&rsquo;t. Do anything you can to make her less of a
+nuisance, that&rsquo;s my only advice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was clear that the interview was ended, so Ann rose. With glowing
+appeal Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce turned her pretty face, with its sudden smile, upon
+the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nice, kind Miss Barnes, don&rsquo;t bother me about Isabelle, will you? She
+bores me to death.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg&nbsp;37]</a></span></p>
+<p>Ann got out of the room somehow. She felt cold shivers down her spine,
+as if she had touched something revolting. She thought of <i>her</i> mother,
+and Jinny, the little sister nearest Isabelle&rsquo;s age. She was so homesick
+for them, she just thought she would die. She went to the nursery where
+she had left Isabelle, and, as she entered, the child was shaking hands
+with an imaginary guest, saying in perfect imitation of her mother&rsquo;s
+manner: &ldquo;Oh, howdye do, Mrs.&nbsp;Page?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dorothy and Reginald and I are having a bridge party,&rdquo; she explained.</p>
+
+<p>But Ann didn&rsquo;t listen. She just picked Isabelle up in her arms, and
+hugged her tight, kissing her over and over again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You poor baby&mdash;you poor little mite!&rdquo; she said over and over.</p>
+
+<p>But after the first shock of surprise, Isabelle rebelled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t! Put me down! I don&rsquo;t like to be kissed!&rdquo; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>Ann set her down and knelt before her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you like to be kissed?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because&rdquo;&mdash;defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, have you ever been rocked and sung to and tucked into bed at
+night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle shook her head, her big eyes fixed on Ann&rsquo;s face, so full of
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ever have anybody tickle you awake, in the morning, and kiss
+you until you laughed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child shook her head again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a shame!&rdquo; cried Ann. &ldquo;Why Jinny gets kissed a hundred times a day
+by everybody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s Jinny?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My little sister, who is your age.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg&nbsp;38]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;In my home, up in Vermont.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does she do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit down, and I&rsquo;ll tell you about her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle promptly sat down on the floor beside Ann.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the morning, after breakfast, she picks up the papers and school
+books and toys and things the children leave around&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What children?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My other brothers and sisters. There&rsquo;s Walter and Helen and Tommy and
+Barbara, but Jinny is our baby. When she gets things picked up she dusts
+the bottoms of the chairs and the legs of the tables. Then she helps
+mother make the beds. She can beat up the pillows and tuck the sheets
+neatly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t there any chambermaid?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. Then she studies her letters. She almost knows them. She goes to
+market with mother, and then she plays in the yard until dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max doesn&rsquo;t go to market.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ann ignored that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then the children troop in to dinner, from school. Such a scramble,
+such a wrestling, and shouting, and face washing! You ought to hear it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s <i>lunch</i> at noon,&rdquo; corrected Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; we have dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you have for dinner?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Boiled beef and potatoes, bread and butter and jam, and a pudding. Then
+the older ones tramp off to school again and Jinny takes her nap.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate naps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg&nbsp;39]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jinny doesn&rsquo;t. She likes them. She knows they make her strong and
+sweet-tempered and pretty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would naps make me pretty?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think so. Everybody is pretty who has pink cheeks, and a kind
+expression, don&rsquo;t you think so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max hasn&rsquo;t a kind expression; she&rsquo;s cross&rdquo;&mdash;quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she has lovely skin, all pink and white.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you&rsquo;re prettier than Max. Then what does Jinny do next?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the story went on with elaborate detail, until every waking moment of
+Jinny&rsquo;s day was accounted for. It was absorbing to Isabelle, and it was
+a satisfaction for Ann to have this outlet for her homesickness. So it
+began, but it grew to be a significant make-believe, for as the days
+went by, she discovered that Isabelle could be absolutely ruled by her
+imagination. The new game was called &ldquo;Playing Jinny.&rdquo; She began to dust
+the nursery chairs and to pick up toys and playthings. She demanded
+lessons in letters. Any misdemeanour that was met with the remark, &ldquo;Of
+course, Jinny would never do that,&rdquo; was never repeated.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day she demanded the story again, and daily Ann added to the
+picture of her mother, always at the call of her children, of her
+father, reading aloud on Friday nights, as a special treat, while they
+all sat round the fire in the shabby old living room.</p>
+
+<p>She described how they all worked and saved to buy Christmas presents
+for one another; how happy they were over simple gifts, even a red lead
+pencil. How they hid the presents all over the house and had a &ldquo;hunt&rdquo; on
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg&nbsp;40]</a></span>
+
+Christmas morning, instead of having a tree. The story went on and on,
+until Isabelle actually lived in the circle of the Barnes family.</p>
+
+<p>But one unfortunate day, Isabelle strayed into her mother&rsquo;s room,
+determined upon experiment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max, will you take me to market with you?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t go to market, silly; the housekeeper markets.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you tuck me in, and kiss me good-night?&rdquo; the child continued,
+her eyes fixed on her mother&rsquo;s startled face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m never here when you go to bed,&rdquo; defended Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce. &ldquo;What is all
+this? I thought you didn&rsquo;t like to be kissed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish you&rsquo;d have six children,&rdquo; Isabelle sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good heavens! Isabelle, don&rsquo;t be silly!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Isabelle gave it up. She realized that something was lacking. She
+sought out Miss Barnes with the problem.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t Max and Wally do like father and mother Barnes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; Ann evaded, &ldquo;it is different, you see. Your father and mother
+are rich, and mine are poor. Your parents have lots to do&mdash;golf and
+bridge and parties&mdash;and father and mother Barnes have only their
+children to interest them. They&rsquo;re just regular parents,&rdquo; she added,
+lamely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I want some regular parents,&rdquo; replied Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>Ann was nonplussed.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg&nbsp;41]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t all have them, honey,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Jinny would like lots of
+things you have&mdash;a pony, and toys, and pretty clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She can have mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She has to do many things you would not like to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care. I&rsquo;d do them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you can&rsquo;t change your parents. God gives them to you, and you have
+to keep them,&rdquo; she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why didn&rsquo;t God give me regular parents?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ann hastily diverted the youngster&rsquo;s thoughts into other channels, but
+she came back to it again and yet again&mdash;her desire for &ldquo;regular
+parents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One of the habits acquired from Jinny was a daily nap. She religiously
+put herself to bed, after luncheon, and each day upon rising she
+inspected herself in the glass to see if she was growing prettier.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see that it helps much,&rdquo; she said frequently.</p>
+
+<p>But Ann encouraged her to persevere, partly because she felt that the
+highly strung child needed the rest, and partly because it was Ann&rsquo;s
+only breathing space in the twenty-four hours. Usually she went for a
+walk, carrying a book under her arm.</p>
+
+<p>One day as she started off on such a ramble Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce sent for her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Barnes, would you do me a favour? The dry-cleaner in Rockville has
+a lace gown of mine which I want to wear this afternoon, when some
+people are coming to tea. Would you motor over and get it? You could
+take the imp with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle is asleep just now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg&nbsp;42]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go before she wakes up, then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Could one of the maids look after her, if she wakes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, of course. I shall be so obliged.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Ann set forth in the motor, glad of a free hour or two in the open.
+She enjoyed it to the full, and although it took longer than she had
+anticipated, she carried the gown to Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s door at five.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So much obliged,&rdquo; said that lady, sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>The nursery was empty, so were the bedrooms. Ann asked the maids where
+Isabelle was. No one had seen her. She went out into the grounds and to
+all her favourite haunts, but no Isabelle. Then, thoroughly alarmed, she
+went to Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s door again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, did you send a maid to look after Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, I forgot it&rdquo;&mdash;in an annoyed tone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t find her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t find her? Oh, she must be somewhere,&rdquo;&mdash;absently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I have looked everywhere. No one saw her go out. I have been gone
+over two hours, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Something of Ann&rsquo;s excitement affected Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, she couldn&rsquo;t get away far. Kate,&rdquo; she called to a maid in the
+dressing room, &ldquo;did you see Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw her just after Miss Barnes left,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;She had on her
+best hat and coat, and I sez to her: &lsquo;Where ye goin?&rsquo; an&rsquo; she sez to me:
+&lsquo;I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo; to look for some reg&rsquo;lar parunts&rsquo; an&rsquo; she went out the side
+door. I thought somebody was lookin&rsquo; after her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, she&rsquo;s run away!&rdquo; cried Ann.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg&nbsp;43]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t you know she&rsquo;d do it on a day when I was having a special
+tea!&rdquo; she blazed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Ann, looking the other woman straight in the eyes, and Mrs.
+Bryce knew that this girl despised her. Not that it mattered, but it was
+annoying at the moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t stand there talking. Get the chauffeur and tell him to go look
+for her,&rdquo; she ordered, turning to receive the lace gown that the maid
+held over her head.</p>
+
+<p>Ann ran out of the room, and down the stairs. She started for the beach
+where they went swimming. Henry the chauffeur passed her, calling out
+that he was going to the neighbours to inquire. Ann turned back to go to
+the gardener&rsquo;s lodge and find out the whereabouts of Patsy. As she ran
+she sobbed to herself, at the thought of the forlorn little figure in
+its best hat and coat, setting out on a crusade to find &ldquo;regular
+parents!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg&nbsp;44]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h2>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce wore the white lace gown, and had her tea. Wally commandeered
+all the servants except the cook and the butler to help in the search
+for Isabelle. He and the chauffeur and Ann conducted scouting parties in
+all directions.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Wally, Max?&rdquo; inquired Mrs.&nbsp;Page.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s dashing around somewhere looking for Isabelle. She&rsquo;s lost.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lost? But where is the jewel who looks after her? Wally told me yards
+about her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sent her on an errand, and Isabelle got away. She can&rsquo;t have gone
+far.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you share Wally&rsquo;s enthusiasm over the new governess?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not,&rdquo; replied Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, adding, &ldquo;Wally has become a passionate
+parent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever started him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I</i> did, worse luck! You know how all the useless men in the world dote
+on telling a woman about her duties? Now Wally&rsquo;s only job is to invest
+money in the wrong things, but he is full of ideas about being a
+mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was general mirth at this point, on the part of the guests.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg&nbsp;45]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was so moved by his remarks that I dumped my cares upon him for the
+summer. He is outrageously superior about himself as parent. <i>He</i> has
+found the perfect governess, <i>he</i> discovers that our offspring has a
+brain; you should hear him go on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have,&rdquo; protested Mrs.&nbsp;Page. &ldquo;He used to make love to me, but now he
+tells me his domestic problems.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has the entire house upset now, because she has run off, but when he
+finds her, he won&rsquo;t have backbone enough to spank her,&rdquo; laughed Mrs.
+Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It always amuses me how parents agonize over the lost child, and spank
+it when it&rsquo;s found,&rdquo; said Martin Christiansen, the guest of honour at
+the tea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not being a parent you don&rsquo;t realize that there is a large,
+well-defined body of parentisms. We all say the same things, do the same
+things to children, instinctively and without thought,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Page
+assured him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Puts you at such a disadvantage with your child, for the youngster
+thinks freshly, doesn&rsquo;t it, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know mine thinks freshly&mdash;she&rsquo;s a brat! I keep out of her way,
+myself,&rdquo; remarked his hostess.</p>
+
+<p>Presently dusk fell and still no signs of the child. Wally came back to
+telephone the police stations of the towns near them. He barely glanced
+at the laughing group on his terrace, but Mrs.&nbsp;Page spied him, and came
+to call out:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Found her yet, Wally?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Better come have your tea, Wally,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Damn,&rdquo; said Wally, under his breath, as he hurried into the house
+without any reply.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg&nbsp;46]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had we not better go? Aren&rsquo;t you anxious, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce?&rdquo; inquired
+Christiansen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no; she&rsquo;ll turn up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing will happen to her, she&rsquo;s too smart,&rdquo; commented Mrs.&nbsp;Page.</p>
+
+<p>They took their departure shortly. Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce ordered the cook to hold
+back dinner. Then she let her vexation grow. It was outrageous that this
+little pest should upset things so completely. She had been especially
+anxious to impress this Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen, whom she had recently met. He
+was a distinguished <i>litt&eacute;rateur</i> and critic, as well as a stunning
+giant of a man. The white lace gown had been entirely for his benefit.
+And yet because of Isabelle he had been critical of her. Man-like he had
+convictions about woman&rsquo;s job. He probably thought she should have been
+running around the country, in hysterics, looking for her chee-ild.</p>
+
+<p>At nine o&rsquo;clock she heard the motor come to the door. She went into the
+hall. Ann got out first and helped Wally. He was carrying the
+heroine&mdash;asleep, in the utter relaxation of tired babyhood. She was
+dirty, and her best hat dangled from its elastic, crushed and dusty.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; remarked Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, &ldquo;where was she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take her up to the bedroom, Miss Barnes,&rdquo; Wally said, and he
+started off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really, Wally, Miss Barnes can certainly manage to get her to bed,&rdquo;
+protested Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s rather heavy. I&rsquo;ll just&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put her down and let her walk then. I&rsquo;ve waited for my dinner as long
+as I intend to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg&nbsp;47]</a></span></p>
+<p>Wally went on upstairs with his burden, and as Ann passed Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce
+her scorn and hatred of that lace-clad lady was as obvious as a spoken
+word. Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce went to the table and ordered her dinner. When Wally
+joined her he looked &ldquo;all in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you don&rsquo;t care whether she gets killed or not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, but she didn&rsquo;t get killed, so I don&rsquo;t have to excite myself, do
+I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You might show a little decent feeling before Miss Barnes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t have to please Miss Barnes&mdash;or any of my servants, if it comes
+to that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a brute, Max!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;re going to be tiresome, I&rsquo;ll finish my dinner upstairs,&rdquo; she
+replied. &ldquo;Heaven knows, if I&rsquo;d had any idea you would be such a bore
+about her, I&rsquo;d never have turned her over to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know why she ran away? She went to find some &lsquo;regular
+parents&rsquo;&mdash;so she said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t suit then?&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce laughed crisply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The poor little devil walked and walked, and when she was too tired to
+go any farther she asked a milk wagon driver to give her a lift, so she
+got away over to Rockville.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where did she get this idea about parents?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Barnes explained to me on the way home, that she and Isabelle have
+a game called &lsquo;Playing Jinny.&rsquo; Jinny is Miss Barnes&rsquo;s little sister and
+Isabelle pretends that she lives in the Barnes family.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg&nbsp;48]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;So, it is your paragon who has set her against her own parents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, she didn&rsquo;t mean to do that. She says she had no idea that the child
+would take it seriously and start off to find the Barnes home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it desirable to have your child in the sole charge of a
+woman who poisons her mind against you and me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she doesn&rsquo;t do that, Max. Isabelle adores her. It was just a game,
+I tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So <i>she</i> says.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On the way to the library, after dinner, they came upon Ann in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I speak to you, Miss Barnes?&rdquo; Max inquired coolly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; the girl replied, and followed them into the room beyond.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just what is it that you have been telling Isabelle, which sets her off
+on this ridiculous jaunt?&rdquo; demanded Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, insolently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I told her about my home, and my little sister, who is her age. She
+started off to find her,&rdquo; answered Ann, simply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it is a part of your duty to set her against her parents?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have never discussed her parents with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure Miss Barnes isn&rsquo;t to blame, Max,&rdquo; put in Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think she is.&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce cut him off. &ldquo;You may take the noon train
+to town to-morrow, Miss Barnes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg&nbsp;49]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I say, Max!&rdquo; protested Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce,&rdquo; Ann said. &ldquo;I hate to leave Isabelle, but
+what can I do to help her? She&rsquo;s just doomed!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Doomed to live with us, Wally,&rdquo; laughed Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, doomed to live with you,&rdquo; the girl replied. &ldquo;To get along without
+help, or love. To see her mother occasionally&mdash;a strange woman in the
+house. What right have you and your crowd to have children?&rdquo; she
+demanded, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Such impudence!&rdquo; burst out Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never known any one like you before, and you fill me with horror!&rdquo;
+Ann retorted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This may amuse you, Wally, but it doesn&rsquo;t me,&rdquo; remarked Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce,
+walking out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce; I didn&rsquo;t mean to say all that. I am so tired and
+excited from hunting Isabelle, and it seemed so terrible to me that she
+didn&rsquo;t care about her own baby being lost, that I just burst out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know how overstrained you are, but of course, under the circumstances
+you will see&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he answered miserably.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I couldn&rsquo;t stay in the house another minute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce is very self-contained, she&rsquo;s not excitable as you and I
+are,&rdquo; he tried to explain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate to leave Isabelle. Oh, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce, try to look after her a
+little, try to love her a little, she does need it so!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next day as she stepped to the platform of the train the chauffeur
+handed her a letter from Wally. There was an enclosure of two hundred
+dollars, which he begged
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg&nbsp;50]</a></span>
+
+she would accept as a present from Isabelle. He thanked her and
+regretted the necessity of her going.</p>
+
+<p>So Ann passed out of Isabelle&rsquo;s life, mourned and lamented for months by
+the child. She represented the only tenderness, the only understanding
+and sympathy that came into Isabelle&rsquo;s childhood. The little belated
+tendrils of affection she had put forth toward her world, under Ann&rsquo;s
+warm influence, shrivelled and died. Her wits against them all, that was
+the motto she decided upon, in the bitter wisdom of her four brief
+years.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg&nbsp;51]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h2>
+
+<p>During the years that followed many were the governesses set up by Mrs.
+Bryce to be promptly knocked down, as it were, by Isabelle. They would
+either depart of their own accord, or they would be sent flying by the
+irate Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce after some escapade of her incorrigible offspring.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll end in a reform school!&rdquo; she remarked to Wally one day, upon the
+dismissal of the latest one.</p>
+
+<p>He sought out his daughter and laboured with her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, kid, how many governesses have you had lately?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oodles of &rsquo;em.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what do you do to them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get rid of &rsquo;em, they&rsquo;re no good. Can&rsquo;t you get Max to let me have Ann
+again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t have any of these she gets me&mdash;old snoops!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She does the best she can,&rdquo; Wally defended.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She does not. She doesn&rsquo;t even look at &rsquo;em, just telephones for one to
+be sent out. Let&rsquo;s you and me go pick out another one, Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, but your mother won&rsquo;t stand for it. Ann gave her a piece of
+her mind before she left, and Max blames me for it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg&nbsp;52]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;If she&rsquo;d get Ann, I&rsquo;d be so good she&rsquo;d never have to change again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you tell her that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did. It makes her mad. You tell her, Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She gets mad at me, too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you get mad back and yell at her, she stops. That&rsquo;s what I do,&rdquo; she
+advised him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, it would be a lot more comfortable for you to put up with
+some woman, even if you don&rsquo;t like her. You always have to get used to a
+new one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t. They have to get used to me,&rdquo; the imp replied. &ldquo;Where you
+going?&rdquo; she added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to exercise Nero.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t look after you and that horse, too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a baby,&rdquo; she scorned him. &ldquo;Tell them to bring the pony round,
+Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Later when she threw her breeched leg over her horse, and waited for
+Wally to mount, he exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord, I wish you&rsquo;d been a boy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So do I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They started off. She had discarded the old Shetland pony as too
+childish, and demanded a real steed. So Wally had given her a small
+Peruvian horse, delicately made and fleet of foot. She rode him like a
+leaf on the wind. She jumped hedges and fences and ditches; she did
+circus tricks, and finally nagged Wally&rsquo;s Nero into a race.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re some rider, Isabelle,&rdquo; he said, on the way home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You bet I am!&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg&nbsp;53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the door Matthews, the butler, announced that the new governess had
+arrived.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Damn it!&rdquo; ejaculated Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>Wally reproved her sharply, but she was inattentive.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s fire her, Wally, and you take care of me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you like that?&rdquo; he said, touched by this unusual mark of
+affection.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. You always do what I want you to,&rdquo; replied his tactless child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have other things to do than to look after a fresh little shrimp like
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The &ldquo;new one&rdquo; was a middle-aged English gentlewoman of the usual
+governess type. Isabelle knew the kind thoroughly. She had initiated
+whole companies of them into life at The Beeches. Miss Watts, this one
+was called. She was putting her things into bureau drawers, when
+Isabelle appeared at the door of the bathroom which joined their rooms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is this Isabelle?&rdquo; inquired the new victim.</p>
+
+<p>The child nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you do? I am Miss Watts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope we are going to be friends&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never like governesses&mdash;only one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why did you like this one?&rdquo; inquired Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>She was so used to the lack of manners in the children she taught, that
+this one seemed no worse than usual.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because she was young and could swim and ride and tell me stories.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m too old to swim and ride, but I can tell stories.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg&nbsp;54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She went on with her unpacking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What kinds of stories?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All kinds. I know hundreds of stories. Can you read?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know letters, and &lsquo;cat&rsquo; and &lsquo;rat,&rsquo; but I can&rsquo;t read big books. Let&rsquo;s
+hear you tell a story.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will, with pleasure, when I finish here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I want it now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will take me only a little while.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I won&rsquo;t wait.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts became aware that this was the initial clash of arms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No? Well, don&rsquo;t let me keep you then. Is that your room?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t do what I want, I&rsquo;ll yell so everybody in the house will
+come to see what&rsquo;s the matter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts glanced at her and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That will be interesting,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Isabelle opened her mouth and emitted long, loud shrieks. Miss
+Watts continued counting handkerchiefs. The howls grew more artificial
+in quality, but louder in volume. Isabelle grew red in the face. This
+was hard work. After about three minutes of bedlam Miss Watts remarked:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But where is the audience, Isabelle? I&rsquo;m afraid you have cried &lsquo;Wolf!
+Wolf!&rsquo; too often.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle stopped long enough to shout:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t cry &lsquo;Wolf!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No?&rdquo; said Miss Watts, seating herself by the window. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve finished
+now. Is your concert over?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child stared at her.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg&nbsp;55]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe you&rsquo;d be interested in the story of the man who cried &lsquo;Wolf!
+Wolf!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle smarted under a sense of defeat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t have any stories now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very good. Of course, I only tell stories as a favour,&rdquo; she added,
+pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>The youngster went into her own room. Miss Watts heard her banging
+around in there. Presently she appeared again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why did the man cry &lsquo;Wolf! Wolf!&rsquo;?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit down, and I&rsquo;ll tell you,&rdquo; answered Miss Watts, pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>So the story was told, and the new relationship inaugurated which was to
+last for several years.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts was a woman of considerable intellectual capacity, with a
+passion for books. She was ill-fitted for the sole charge of a
+five-year-old girl of Isabelle&rsquo;s vitality, but her poise and sense of
+humour won the child&rsquo;s respect. After that first experiment there were
+no more spasms of howling. Miss Watts never tried to sentimentalize
+their relationship. She recognized the child&rsquo;s unusual quality, and her
+precocity. She was at present an unendurable human being, thanks to her
+bringing up. Her ideas and ideals were servant-made. If she could be
+brought to see herself as socially an outcast, because of her bad
+manners, Miss Watts knew it would effect a cure.</p>
+
+<p>On her side, Isabelle found Miss Watts&rsquo;s mind a storehouse of treasures.
+She told stories of all countries, and all times, and she told them
+well. The only punishment ever inflicted was the abolishment of the
+story hour, and
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg&nbsp;56]</a></span>
+
+this was the only chastisement Isabelle had ever regarded as such. There
+was a marked improvement in her behaviour and the members of her
+household drew a long breath of relief.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts piqued the girl&rsquo;s interest in the study hours, and, as if by
+a miracle, she learned to read. The teacher found an extraordinary
+concentration of effort to acquire anything the girl desired. Promised
+the joy of finding stories for herself, the student applied herself and
+learned by magic. She was extremely proud of the new accomplishment, and
+would have read constantly if Miss Watts had not settled upon literary
+pursuits as the reward of virtue.</p>
+
+<p>One of the by-products of the new ability was a tighter hold on her
+leadership of the children she played with. Everything she read
+suggested new and wonderful games. As originator and inventor she always
+played the leading r&ocirc;les, assisted by the others.</p>
+
+<p>Summer days provided uninterrupted opportunity for her talents. She
+turned the playhouse into a theatre, and organized a supporting company.
+Sometimes Miss Watts assisted with the scenario, sometimes Isabelle was
+sole author or adapter.</p>
+
+<p>It was the year when she was eight, and just beginning to read Dickens,
+that she prepared a presentation of &ldquo;A Tale of Two Cities.&rdquo; She worked
+at it with great enthusiasm for fully a week. Then she appeared in her
+mother&rsquo;s room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max, can I have lemonade and cake for the audience this afternoon?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg&nbsp;57]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;What audience?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At the Isabelle Theatre.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s coming?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Everybody. Parents and relatives. I rode around to all the houses this
+morning and issued the invitations. They all accepted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you consult me before you invited the neighbourhood
+in?&rdquo;&mdash;hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought you&rsquo;d kick about the refreshments.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you ever do this again you will get no refreshments and I will send
+your friends home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re yours too. Martin Christiansen said he would not miss it for a
+kingdom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You call him Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen, when you speak of him, Miss Impudence.
+What do you intend to do to entertain all these people?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;A Tale of Two Cities,&rsquo; by Charles Dickens.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the playhouse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; it will be crowded, but people can sit on the floor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t ask people to sit on the floor in that stuffy box!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I asked you to let me use the garage and you wouldn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So that&rsquo;s why you asked all these people.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s only one reason. Matthews and Henry can carry chairs to the
+garage this morning. We can move the stage our own selves. The play
+begins at two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hottest time in the day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t have to come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg&nbsp;58]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s in your show?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am the star, and Tommy Page is Carton. He&rsquo;s no good because he
+giggles, but Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen wouldn&rsquo;t play it. I asked him first.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you could do with ice cream and cake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We could&rdquo;&mdash;promptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you going to wear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have several costumes. I took your velvet opera coat for the
+rehearsal. Do you mind?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mind? Certainly I mind. Don&rsquo;t you dare touch anything in my closet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; replied her daughter, coolly; &ldquo;Tommy brought over his
+mother&rsquo;s best coat in case you were huffy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall call Madge Page up this minute and tell her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, but if you do, I&rsquo;ll announce before the curtain goes up,
+that because of <i>traitors</i> there are no costumes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She saw that that shot took effect.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better let it alone, Max. I&rsquo;ve got it all thought out,&rdquo; she
+added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d like to spank you!&rdquo; Max exploded.</p>
+
+<p>At the door Isabelle turned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you care anything about ART?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg&nbsp;59]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2>
+
+<p>AS MRS. BRYCE and Wally came out from luncheon, they beheld the first
+consignment of friends and relatives, a motor car full from the Pages.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve come to the matine&eacute;,&rdquo; laughed Mrs.&nbsp;Page.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s ridiculous of you,&rdquo; retorted her hostess.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would not have missed it for anything,&rdquo; said Martin Christiansen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hear she invited you to play Carton,&rdquo; jeered Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never was more flattered in my life. But I persuaded her that I was
+not the type.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Other motors began to arrive with beaming parents, and excited children.
+The terrace was almost crowded when finally, after much delay, and trips
+to and from the house, Teddy Horton rushed into view, announcing through
+a megaphone that the doors of the Isabelle Theatre were open. Everybody
+strolled toward the garage and soon all the &ldquo;stalls&rdquo; were full.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle appeared before the sheets which served as curtain. She was
+pale, composed, and in deadly earnest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fathers and mothers, and ladies and gentlemen,&rdquo; she began, &ldquo;we are
+going to give a play called &lsquo;A Tale of Two Cities,&rsquo; by Charles Dickens
+and me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was undisturbed by their laughter and applause.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg&nbsp;60]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;We didn&rsquo;t have time to print programmes, so I will tell you the
+characters: Mademoiselle Lucy Manet&mdash;Isabelle Bryce; Dr. Manet, her
+father&mdash;Margie Hunter; Madame La Farge&mdash;Isabelle Bryce; Mr.
+Lorry&mdash;Margie Hunter; Charles D&rsquo;Arnay&mdash;Teddy Horton; Sidney
+Carton&mdash;Tommy Page. Manager&mdash;Isabelle Bryce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>More applause.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The first scene is An Inn. Mr.&nbsp;Lorry is waiting for Lucy Manet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She made a low bow, and walked off, followed by much hand clapping. Some
+time elapsed, and then by slow laborious jerks the sheets were parted,
+and Margie Hunter, a fat serious girl of nine, was discovered in her
+father&rsquo;s overcoat and hat, pacing the floor. She rather overdid the
+pacing, so a strident voice prompted: &ldquo;My Blood!&rdquo; and yet again, and
+louder: &ldquo;My Blood!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said Mr.&nbsp;Lorry. Then in a deep chest tone, he inquired: &ldquo;My
+Blood! Why doesn&rsquo;t Mademoiselle Lucy Manet, my old client&rsquo;s, child,
+appear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Enter Lucy Manet. She wears Mrs.&nbsp;Page&rsquo;s best opera coat, which extracts
+a groan from the owner. Her bobbed brown hair is barely covered by the
+long yellow shaving curls which more or less crown her head. A
+Gainsborough hat of her mother&rsquo;s threatens to submerge her countenance,
+and she carries a walking stick of Wally&rsquo;s as a staff. But for all the
+ridiculous figure she cut, there was an earnestness and a sort of style
+to her entrance, that cut short the first outburst of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir, are you Mr.&nbsp;Lorry?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am. I kiss your hand, Miss.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg&nbsp;61]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have had a long trip in the stage coach.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Did you bring me to
+England when I was an orphan child?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Manet, it was me, but you aren&rsquo;t an orphan.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She kneels.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quick, sir, the truth!&rdquo; she cries.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your father is found. He is a wreckage in prison.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lucy Manet faints. Curtain.</p>
+
+<p>Both actors were forced to take a curtain call after this. Isabelle
+manages to push fat Margie into the wings while she stays on, bowing, to
+announce:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Margie Hunter is Dr. Manet this scene.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next scene discovers Margie Hunter, in a long beard, cobbling a
+shoe, hastily contributed by Tommy Page at the last moment. A dramatic
+and tender meeting between father and child was played in a tense key,
+only slightly marred by the frequent loss of Father Manet&rsquo;s hirsute
+appendage.</p>
+
+<p>The scene changed suddenly and unexpectedly to the court room in England
+where D&rsquo;Arnay appears as prisoner. Margie Hunter played the judge. Teddy
+Horton as D&rsquo;Arnay was so overcome with stage fright that Isabelle had to
+tell him all his lines. However, when it came to Lucy Manet&rsquo;s testimony
+the scene lifted. At the climax, just when Sidney Carton was to make his
+dramatic entrance into the story, it was discovered that Tommy had not
+his shoe. In the quick change, it had been left in the corner of Manet&rsquo;s
+garret. The action was held up while it was restored to him, but he put
+it on so hastily that he lost it once or twice during the scene. It kept
+his mind off his lines, rather. The moment came when the
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg&nbsp;62]</a></span>
+
+striking resemblance between D&rsquo;Arnay and Carton is pointed out by
+Lucy. Tommy Page&mdash;plump, short, red-haired, with freckles&mdash;and
+Teddy Horton&mdash;tall, gangling, half a head taller than his
+double&mdash;stood side by side facing the audience.</p>
+
+<p>Up to this moment a certain restraint had marked that body, but at this
+sight they went into uncontrolled spasms of delight. Martin
+Christiansen, dramatic critic, was seen to wipe tears of joy from his
+cheeks. The actors were spurred to renewed efforts.</p>
+
+<p>Carton declared his eternal devotion to Lucy, in words that were
+scarcely Dickensian.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like you, Lucy; you&rsquo;re all right. I&rsquo;ll stick to you for ever,&rdquo; he
+improvised frantically.</p>
+
+<p>The marriage scene between Lucy and D&rsquo;Arnay ran something like this.
+D&rsquo;Arnay, very accurate in his lines, remarks to Dr. Manet:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dr. Manet, I love your daughter&mdash;fondly, dearly. You loved once
+yourself; let your old love speak for me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Manet&rsquo;s lines escaped him, so he replied informally:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh&mdash;all right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon the bridal procession entered, with Isabelle as climax, in her
+mother&rsquo;s best tulle scarf as a veil.</p>
+
+<p>The scene once more shifted to Paris. D&rsquo;Arnay was arrested, and
+resisted. It took the entire company to overpower and drag him forth to
+the Bastille.</p>
+
+<p>A bit of unequalled histrionism followed in which Isabelle entered as
+Lucy, with little Nancy Holt as her child. She proceeded to impersonate
+both that heroine and Madame La Farge. It was simpler than it sounds.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg&nbsp;63]</a></span>
+
+As Lucy she still wore the wedding veil, as Madame La Farge she snatched
+off the veil, wrapped a fur boa around her, seized her mother&rsquo;s
+knitting, and by leaping from one side of the stage to the other, by
+using now a high voice now a low one, the illusion was perfect. The
+chee-ild was rather roughly pushed about during the scene, which was
+highly emotional.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be merciful to my husband for the sake of my chee-ild,&rdquo; cried Lucy,
+passionately, pushing Nancy forward.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never!&rdquo; growled Madame La Farge, pushing Nancy back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Isabelle, you hurt,&rdquo; objected Nancy, but quailed into silence at
+Isabelle&rsquo;s terrible look.</p>
+
+<p>The audience was almost hysterical.</p>
+
+<p>The part where Carton rescues D&rsquo;Arnay and changes places with him,
+important climax though it is in the book, was omitted by the dramatist,
+because it had no opportunity for Isabelle. D&rsquo;Arnay arrived in Carton&rsquo;s
+clothes, many inches too small for him, and explained to Lucy what had
+occurred. So she and her child and her husband escape.</p>
+
+<p>The curtains were closed now, and the audience stirred as if to rise.
+Isabelle rushed forth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit still,&rdquo; she commanded, &ldquo;it isn&rsquo;t over yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a long wait, and much hammering back on the stage. Then the
+curtains parted again on the big realistic moment of the drama.
+Suspended at back was what at first glance looked to be a wooden window
+frame. It was suspended from above by ropes, which disappeared over the
+gallery which ran around the garage. Under this
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg&nbsp;64]</a></span>
+
+frame was a wooden saw-horse, and beneath that a pail. Only a look
+sufficed to show that this was <i>La Belle Dame sans Merci</i>, the
+guillotine.</p>
+
+<p>A ragged rabble appeared at back, shouting and shaking fists. Then&mdash;led
+forward by D&rsquo;Arnay and the able Margie who had been Dr. Manet, Lorry,
+and the Judge&mdash;came the blind-folded figure of the hero, Carton. They
+led him to the foot of that terrible machine of destruction, and after
+several vain promptings from the gallery above, Carton cried in a loud,
+manly voice:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a
+far, far better rest I go to, than I have ever known.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he laid his noble head on the saw horse, and <i>bing!</i> went the
+window frame down on his neck.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gosh!&rdquo; yelled Carton, just as it struck; and then no more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good Lord! Tommy!&rdquo; cried his mother excitedly from the audience. &ldquo;I
+think she&rsquo;s killed him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; cried Isabelle from the gallery. &ldquo;There wasn&rsquo;t any
+knife in it&mdash;it couldn&rsquo;t hurt him much, unless it just broke his neck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Carton sat up and lifted a red and angry face toward her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It just about did break my neck, you big nut!&rdquo; he cried, feeling
+himself, gently. &ldquo;I told you that darned thing wouldn&rsquo;t work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Draw the curtain,&rdquo; hissed Isabelle fiercely, sensing that the shouts of
+the audience were too abandoned to be complimentary.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg&nbsp;65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The curtains were hitched shut, and she looked over the balustrade on
+to the group below. Wally was beating Christiansen on the back, and Max
+was laughing hysterically. Mrs.&nbsp;Page, whose stupid maternal plans had
+nearly ruined the climax, was now panting for breath.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle, even while she was delighted with their applause, despised
+them. Had they no feeling for the noble tragedy of Carton? Of course,
+Tommy Page, the fool&mdash;&mdash;just then she caught Martin Christiansen&rsquo;s eye.
+He held up his hands to her, clapping, and bowing and throwing kisses.
+He rushed to the garden, and came back with a huge sunflower which he
+tossed to her, calling: &ldquo;Author!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After many and prolonged calls, Isabelle came modestly forth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I think Mr.&nbsp;Charles Dickens is dead; if he is, I
+will thank you for him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Company! Company!&rdquo; shouted the parents and relatives. Isabelle felt
+this to be bad discipline for the actors, but after a moment&rsquo;s
+hesitation, she led them all forth.</p>
+
+<p>Martin Christiansen was the first to reach her side. With a low bow he
+indicated the sunflower which she carried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My flower!&rdquo; he murmured tenderly. &ldquo;Isabelle, I&rsquo;ve seen them all,
+Bernhardt, Duse, Fiske, but I&rsquo;ve never seen any acting that could be
+compared with yours!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was that supreme moment which made up to Isabelle for everything
+else. She knew then the joy of appreciation&mdash;knew that Martin
+Christiansen was a finer soul, and akin unto her own!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg&nbsp;66]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2>
+
+<p>Isabelle&rsquo;s d&eacute;but as dramatist and actress was much discussed and laughed
+over in the colony. Her pranks had long been a favourite topic, but this
+last one marked her as a real personality.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle,&rdquo; Martin Christiansen said to her, a day or so after the
+performance, &ldquo;you gave me so much pleasure with your interpretation of
+Mr.&nbsp;Dickens&rsquo;s work, that I want to do something for your pleasure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you?&rdquo; said Isabelle, enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Theatrical stars are so temperamental, I scarcely know what to suggest.
+What does a leading lady and producer like to do in her moments of idle
+ease?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a great opportunity, and Isabelle considered it at length.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to go bathing on the club beach, and have lunch
+afterwards on the club porch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Most reasonable of Leading Ladies, what day would suit you best?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow&rdquo;&mdash;promptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good. Shall we say at eleven? I will give myself the honour of coming
+for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ask Max to let me go, will you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg&nbsp;67]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;With pleasure. Shall we ask the other members of your company, too?
+Does a star permit the company to eat below the salt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no, don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s have them&mdash;just you and me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Most flattering. I would prefer that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t ask the Wallys?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You refer to your parents?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is your party&mdash;you may ask the guests,&rdquo; he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>So it was decided, and Christiansen broke the news to her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think she should have a chaperon. You might ask me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She was very explicit that the party was to be a t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;d never ask me,&rdquo; laughed her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you friendly?&rdquo;&mdash;curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, not at all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Max honoured Miss Watts and Isabelle with an unexpected
+call.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is she going to wear, Miss Watts?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to wear my riding clothes,&rdquo; announced Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How ridiculous! You&rsquo;re going in a motor, not on a horse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care. I look better in my riding clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll put on a white organdie frock and a big hat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t! I hate those girl-things! They look silly on me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg&nbsp;68]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;All children of your age wear white dresses and pink sashes,
+Isabelle,&rdquo; interpolated Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m not a pink-sash child!&rdquo; quoth Isabelle, with one of her
+flashes of insight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well, Miss Watts, let her go in her riding boots. If she wants to
+make a laughing-stock of herself, let her! Poor Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen will be
+sorry he ever asked her!&rdquo; said Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. I&rsquo;ll wear a white linen dress, with a black belt, and my
+black hat,&rdquo; announced the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Chaste, but not gaudy,&rdquo; laughed her mother, as she sauntered from the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>When she was finally dressed Isabelle walked to a long mirror and
+surveyed herself at length. Her slim, pretty legs in their black silk
+stockings caught her eye.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think I have nice legs?&rdquo; she inquired of Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Um&mdash;rather. They are serviceable at least.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>The party was a marked success. A great many people were bathing, which
+always made it exciting. They went out to the raft and Christiansen and
+some other men took turns in throwing her off. It was perfect for
+Isabelle. Then, afterward, all the tables were full on the club veranda,
+when Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen led his guest to a two-chair table, marked
+&ldquo;<span class="smcap">reserved</span>.&rdquo; Everybody smiled and nodded at them. She saw Wally and Max
+cross the room grinning at her. But she bore herself with great dignity,
+and it seemed to her that life held
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg&nbsp;69]</a></span>
+
+nothing more, when Christiansen seated her. There was a tiny,
+old-fashioned bouquet at her plate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is this for me?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. My offering on the day of your triumph was so inadequate, I wanted
+to do better to-day. By the way, I ordered the lunch. I trust you do not
+mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no. That&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; she replied graciously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It seems to me you are looking very fine to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had an awful time about my clothes,&rdquo; she confessed. &ldquo;Max wanted me to
+wear a party dress and a sweety hat&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is a sweety hat?&rdquo; he inquired with interest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you know the kind&mdash;floppy, with cherries on it, and everybody says:
+&lsquo;Oh, isn&rsquo;t she sweet?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her host smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You object to being thought sweet?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;m not that kind of a child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What kind of a child are you, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m plain, but I&rsquo;ve got a great line of talk,&rdquo; was her unexpected
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A witty tongue is worth all the pretty faces in the world,&rdquo; laughed
+Christiansen. &ldquo;But I wouldn&rsquo;t call you so plain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I look very well in my riding clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you seen me in them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I regret to say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you must.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you. I take it that you did not accept your mother&rsquo;s advice upon
+your costume?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg&nbsp;70]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no. I never do. Parents have such silly ideas, don&rsquo;t you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose they do, poor things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have to have them, of course&rdquo;&mdash;politely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In this badly arranged world,&rdquo; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So many people are having babies this summer,&rdquo; she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are they, indeed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes. The Hunters and the Reillys, both have them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do I know the Reillys?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is the gardener at The Beeches. Patsy is my best friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he a member of your company?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes. He was away when we did &lsquo;The Tale of Two Cities.&rsquo; He speaks
+rather Irishly, but he&rsquo;s a good actor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your leading man seemed to have a comedy talent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tommy Page? He&rsquo;s a terrible fool, but we had to have him. There never
+are enough boys to go round for the parts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So often happens in summer resorts,&rdquo; he agreed. &ldquo;Why not have a company
+of Amazons and disdain the weaker sex?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean all girls?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Amazons were, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They fuss so, and get mad. They always want to play the best parts.
+With boys, you can just <i>settle</i> them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You nearly settled poor Tommy Page on the guillotine,&rdquo; he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He nearly spoiled everything, the poor coward. He couldn&rsquo;t stand a
+little pain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg&nbsp;71]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Peculiar to our sex, Isabelle; not Tommy&rsquo;s fault, strictly speaking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll never get another good part,&rdquo; she said firmly.</p>
+
+<p>They were just finishing their ice cream, chatting amiably, when Wally
+came to their table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hello,&rdquo; he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hope I don&rsquo;t interrupt?&rdquo; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all. Won&rsquo;t you sit down?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks. Just ran over to say that we&rsquo;ll take the kid off your hands
+after lunch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t bother&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly we will. The car is going back in ten minutes with Max, and
+she can go along.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle could have cried with rage. As it was she swallowed hard, and
+when Christiansen said: &ldquo;Is that agreeable to you, Isabelle?&rdquo; she nodded
+assent, but the look she cast at Wally might have assassinated him. He,
+blissfully unaware of it, sauntered away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t hurry. Wouldn&rsquo;t you like some more ice cream?&rdquo; her host
+suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, thank you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She did not really want it, but it might serve to delay the hated
+departure. The car might go without her, and Christiansen would then
+take her home. She dawdled over the second ice cream, chatting
+feverishly to prevent his suspecting her plan. But the end came, as the
+end needs must, and on the veranda they found her mother waiting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she has been eating all this time, you must be bankrupt,&rdquo; she
+laughed as they joined her.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg&nbsp;72]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Our conversation absorbed considerable time, didn&rsquo;t it, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&rdquo;&mdash;gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you behave yourself?&rdquo; inquired her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; Christiansen hastened to say.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, make your manners and get into the car,&rdquo; ordered her parent.</p>
+
+<p>Christiansen leaned over her hand gallantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you for giving me so much pleasure,&rdquo; he said in a confidential
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you. I loved it,&rdquo; she whispered ardently.</p>
+
+<p>On the way home her mother glanced at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have a good time?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You and Wally spoiled it!&rdquo;&mdash;hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did we do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Treating me like a infunt!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which you are,&rdquo; retorted her mother.</p>
+
+<p>Later, in talking it over with Miss Watts, Isabelle said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen is my ideal. He thinks he would not call me very
+plain,&rdquo; she added. Then, &ldquo;Miss Watts, what is an Amazon?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Amazon is a river.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he said a comp&rsquo;ny of Amazons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, they were women warriors,&rdquo; instructed the teacher, and expounded
+the subject at some length.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did they wear?&rdquo; demanded Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll look up some pictures of them and find out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Riding clothes would do,&rdquo; mused Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nicely, I should say.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg&nbsp;73]</a></span></p>
+<p>The next day she organized the Isabelle Amazons. They were only four in
+number, counting Nancy Holt, who was under size, but they drilled and
+hunted and rode to battle in the wake of their peerless leader. They met
+imaginary foes. They challenged Tommy Page and Teddy Horton to mortal
+combat, and put them to flight. It was a wonderful game, and Isabelle
+thrilled to think that it was &ldquo;her ideal&rdquo; who had suggested it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When am I going to entertain Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen?&rdquo; she asked her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>You</i> entertain him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. He had me to lunch, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m having a house party over the week end and he is coming.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This week end?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Your beau arrives on the noon train Saturday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I am spending the day with the Hunters Saturday,&rdquo; the child
+protested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help that,&rdquo; replied her parent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I come down to dinner Saturday night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t I come in with the cocktails, and stay till you go to the dining
+room?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody wants you under foot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s my friend just as much as he is yours!&rdquo; blazed Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can see him at tea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With everybody around? I have something private to tell him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, pray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;About Amazons.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg&nbsp;74]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll not have Amazons with the cocktails, I can tell you that,&rdquo;
+said her mother with finality.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle brooded over the matter until the end of the week. She tried to
+get out of the day with Margie Hunter, but Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce was glad to be rid
+of her and forced her to go. She ordered Miss Watts not to go after her
+until half past five, when tea would be safely over.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle composed a note of explanation and left it on the bureau in the
+room which Christiansen was to occupy.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="noin"><span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>:</p>
+
+<p>Because of others, and Margie Hunter&rsquo;s mother I cannot meet you
+at the station. I have to spend the day with old Margie Hunter.
+I have organized the Amazons, as you said, and we are strong
+and true, in riding breeches. I have a plan, but don&rsquo;t tell
+Max.</p>
+
+<p class="center">Your loving friend,</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Isabelle Bryce</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>She forgot her troubles somewhat at the Hunters&rsquo;. All the Amazons were
+there, as well as Margie&rsquo;s brother, Herbert, an elderly person of
+twelve, with some of his friends. They treated the girls with great
+scorn until Isabelle told them the story of the persecutions she endured
+at home, in order to be an Amazon. It featured imprisonment in a tower
+room, on a diet of bread and water, branding irons and flogging with a
+buckled strap. They formed a delighted circle about her, and urged her
+on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some little liar, that kid!&rdquo; exclaimed Herbert. &ldquo;<i>Then</i> what did you
+do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The big boys followed her about all day, to the exclusion of the other
+Amazons, who took refuge in chanting derogatory remarks, such as:</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg&nbsp;75]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Herbie Hunter is stuck on Isabelle!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When 5:30 arrived and with it, Miss Watts, Isabelle departed with a
+feeling of a day well spent. She turned her thoughts to the next event.
+They had a puncture on the way, and the terrace and halls were deserted
+when they arrived home. Miss Watts hurried her off to the schoolroom,
+for supper, and urged her to take her bath and go to bed after her
+strenuous day. The child was docility itself.</p>
+
+<p>While she was at supper a note was brought to her. It was from
+Christiansen. She read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="noin"><span class="smcap">My Dear Isabelle</span>:</p>
+
+<p>You cannot imagine what a pleasant welcome your note gave me. I
+am thrilled to know that I am under the roof with a real
+Amazon, and I live in the expectation of seeing you &ldquo;strong and
+true in riding breeches.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="center">Your devoted admirer,</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Martin Christiansen</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>An idea was born at that moment! When Miss Watts went to carry the
+supper tray downstairs, because the maids were busy, Isabelle hastily
+donned her riding clothes, turned on the bath water to mislead Miss
+Watts on her return, crept down the stairs and out. From the terrace she
+peered into the long drawing room. The French doors leading on to the
+terrace were open wide, and in the softly lighted room she saw the
+house-party guests assembling. They straggled in, one by one. Isabelle&rsquo;s
+eyes brightened at Christiansen&rsquo;s big boom of laughter, and she admired
+his broad shoulders, as he leaned on the mantelpiece at the far end.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg&nbsp;76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She flew to the stables, crept in at the back, led out the Peruvian
+horse, saddled, mounted him, and kicked him gently in the flanks. Up and
+onto the terrace she guided him, just as indoors, Matthews arrived with
+the cocktails.</p>
+
+<p>In through the open windows rode Isabelle, and slowly down the long
+drawing room. Everybody gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle Bryce!&rdquo; cried her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Martin,&rdquo; she said eagerly, &ldquo;this is how I look as an Amazon!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was part of the cruel fate that dogged her, that at this supreme
+moment the Peruvian horse slipped on a rug on which Matthews happened to
+be standing, whereupon they all went down together, pouring a generous
+libation of cocktails at Christiansen&rsquo;s feet!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg&nbsp;77]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h2>
+
+<p>Poor Isabelle languished in disgrace in her own room for the two days of
+her mother&rsquo;s house party, as a result of her Amazonian entrance to the
+dinner. Martin Christiansen pleaded her case, took the blame upon
+himself; the rest of the party laughed heartily over the episode and
+demanded more Isabelle, but Max remained adamant and refused to release
+the prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>Wally visited his daughter on Sunday, carrying a note from Christiansen.
+He expected to find her raging at her confinement, but, instead, she was
+curled up in a chair with a book on her lap, and he had to speak to her
+twice before she heard him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hello, Wally,&rdquo; she said, unenthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hello. How are you getting on?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pity you have to be shut up this nice day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He grinned derisively.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do&mdash;honust.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was your idea of coming into the drawing room on a horse, anyhow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wanted to show Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen something. He understood it all
+right.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg&nbsp;78]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Made your mother hopping.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well, she&rsquo;s always hopping. Why didn&rsquo;t you ask Mr.&nbsp;Christiansen
+up?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Against orders. No one admitted. He sent a note,&rdquo; he added, handing it
+over.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="noin"><span class="smcap">Dear Captive Isabelle</span>:</p>
+
+<p>Do you languish in your dungeon cell? Your true knight points
+an arrow with this missive, and shoots it in at your window. (I
+trust your father will not resent this poetic license.) I was
+thrilled at the sight of you as an Amazon, and I agree about
+the riding breeches!</p>
+
+<p class="center">Yours eternally,</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Christiansen-Knight</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s poetic license?&rdquo; she asked Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poetic license? Why&mdash;it&rsquo;s some kind of license poets get, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Like a dog license, or a chauffeur&rsquo;s?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, something like that. Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the book?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Idylls of the King.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Great. I&rsquo;m going to give it in my theatre.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Playing all the parts yourself?&rdquo; he teased.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the important ones,&rdquo; she answered, seriously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I tell your mother that you are enjoying yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll toddle along now, I guess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute. I have to answer him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg&nbsp;79]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hurry up about it then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally took up her abandoned book, while she went to her desk to compose.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="noin">Dearest Knight:</p>
+
+<p>I languish a little, but not much. I&rsquo;m writing a play out of
+&ldquo;Idylls of the King.&rdquo; I wish you would be Launcelot, Tommy Page
+could be Merlin. I knew you would understand about the Amazon
+and horse. I&rsquo;m glad you liked the&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</p></div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you spell breeches, Wally?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Breeches.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;B-r-e-e-c-h-e-s. What are you saying about them?&rdquo; he inquired, coming
+to look over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is private,&rdquo; she said, and wrote:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="noin">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;breeches. Wally did not mind your license. He thought you
+ought to have it. The police are so crooel.</p>
+
+<p class="center">Your loving friend,</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Isabelle</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>She folded and addressed it carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do I get for running the blockade for you like this?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Much obliged, Wally,&rdquo; she answered, returning to her chair and her
+book.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t appreciate me!&rdquo; he protested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I do, Wally. I like you the best of all my parents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Upon her subsequent release, Isabelle turned her entire attention to a
+continuous presentation of the &ldquo;Idylls.&rdquo; Every day the story progressed,
+and it would have
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg&nbsp;80]</a></span>
+
+occupied her abilities for some time, save for an accident.</p>
+
+<p>The company, including Tommy Page and Teddy Horton, had gathered at
+Margie Hunter&rsquo;s, where there was a swimming pool. Isabelle planned to
+stage a scene with herself as &ldquo;Elaine, the fair, the beautiful,&rdquo;
+floating in the Hunters&rsquo; canoe, laboriously carried up from the shore by
+the entire company.</p>
+
+<p>They launched the craft, and laid out Elaine, with flowers about her,
+hastily plucked from the garden, and the play was all ready to go on,
+when Herbert&rsquo;s crowd came by, on the way to a baseball match. At the
+arresting sight of the Lily Maid of Astelot, they halted and demanded
+explanations. These were received with exclamations of derision and
+delight, so that the incensed leading lady rose from her barge, landed,
+and pursued them with the canoe paddle. They gave her a race to the
+baseball diamond, where they disarmed her by force, and forgot her.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down and watched their preparations. She heard their mighty
+oaths against the ninth man of the team, who hadn&rsquo;t &ldquo;showed up.&rdquo; She
+offered to play, but they jeered at the idea. Herbert Hunter urged her
+acceptance as a sub, saying that they could throw her out when the
+regular fellow came.</p>
+
+<p>The game was new to Isabelle but she concentrated fiercely upon Herbert
+Hunter&rsquo;s orders. By happy accident when she came to bat, she shut her
+eyes, fanned the air, and knocked a home run. She sped around the bases
+like a &ldquo;greased rabbit&rdquo; as Herbert said. When it came to pitching, she
+did not star.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg&nbsp;81]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;But she&rsquo;s got a loose arm; she could learn all right,&rdquo; her champion
+remarked.</p>
+
+<p>It was the proudest compliment of her life. The deserted &ldquo;Idylls of the
+King&rdquo; company came and sat at a safe distance and watched her,
+wide-eyed. Tommy Page rushed forward, shouting:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me play, Herbert.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aw, get out of here, kid. We don&rsquo;t want any babies!&rdquo; was the brief
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle&rsquo;s a baby!&rdquo; howled Tommy.</p>
+
+<p>Now Isabelle happened to be toying with a bat when Tommy made this
+disparaging remark threatening to topple her off the dizzy height she
+had attained. She saw red! She made an infuriated rush upon him, and
+brought the bat down on his offending head. Tommy crumpled up like a
+paper doll. There was an awful moment of silence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s killed him,&rdquo; one of the boys whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert tried to stand Tommy up, but his legs folded under him and his
+head fell back, so they laid him down again. Isabelle stood, rooted to
+the ground. Her terror had frozen her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll call mama,&rdquo; cried Margie Hunter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, you won&rsquo;t. We must keep it from the police!&rdquo; ordered her brother.</p>
+
+<p>A shudder went through Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But if he&rsquo;s <i>dead</i>?&rdquo; protested Teddy Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s pour some water on him,&rdquo; suggested somebody.</p>
+
+<p>They all ran to get it, all except Herbert and Isabelle. He noted the
+anguish of her set face.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg&nbsp;82]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, Isabelle; maybe he&rsquo;s only a little bit dead,&rdquo; he comforted
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will we have to bury him?&rdquo; she asked, through chattering teeth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose so&mdash;sometime.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The others returned with a pail of water. They were for dumping it in
+one deluge upon poor Tommy, but Herbert prevented their drowning him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That isn&rsquo;t the way, you nuts! You dribble it on him. Here, give it to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He knelt over Tommy and poured a slow stream of cold water on his face
+and down his neck. When this had no effect he continued the stream over
+his body, clad in linen clothes, much as one waters a flower bed. The
+children held their breath and watched. Signs of returning life were
+visible. As the cold shower struck the pit of his stomach, one knee
+hitched. Encouraged, Herbert spilt the last pint in his upturned face.
+It contorted, he choked, gasped, yelled defiantly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mmmm-bah-what ye doin&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Margie Hunter knelt at his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You aren&rsquo;t dead, are you, Tommy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m all wet,&rdquo; he exclaimed, irritably.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle still stood on the spot where she had struck the blow. Her face
+was set and white.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I guess we better get him in the house now,&rdquo; Herbert advised.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What will we tell them?&rdquo; Margie asked.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert looked at Isabelle, then he swept them all with a chieftain&rsquo;s
+glance, and remarked:</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg&nbsp;83]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tommy fell into the pool, an&rsquo; nearly drownded himself. Get me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make a stretcher with crossed hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His men obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, you girls, move him onto our hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They all worked except Isabelle, who never moved.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quit. I want to walk,&rdquo; said Tommy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right, Tommy. You fell into the pool.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not,&rdquo; said Tommy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you did, and if you leave it to us, we&rsquo;ll square it so you won&rsquo;t
+get licked,&rdquo; Herbert promised.</p>
+
+<p>The stretcher men rose and bore the hero off toward the house, followed
+by the children, all except Isabelle. Her breath came in agonized gasps.
+As they disappeared she threw herself down on her face and let her
+nerves have full sway. She did not cry tears, but her body shook in a
+nervous storm of excitement, and misery. She did not hear the swift feet
+that approached, she scarcely heard Herbert&rsquo;s embarrassed voice saying:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say, Isabelle, it&rsquo;s all right. The chambermaid put him to bed and
+telephoned his mother to send him some clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She raised her tragic face to him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will the police take me?&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Without meaning to do so at all, Herbert dropped down beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t kill him. He&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>Then as a nervous tremor shook her body, he patted her, awkwardly.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg&nbsp;84]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re all right, Isabelle, it was just an accident,&rdquo; he comforted
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head, and the tears came. Herbert leaned over and planted
+a kiss under her right ear. She stopped crying. He did not know what
+more to say, so he just sat by. In that half hour of self-accusation, of
+reaction from terror, of the consciousness of the sympathy of a friend
+who had saved her from the police, Isabelle closed the chapter of
+childhood and stepped over into young girlhood.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg&nbsp;85]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h2>
+
+<p>During the next few years of Isabelle&rsquo;s life she was more of a trial to
+her household than ever before, if such a thing were possible. She
+overplayed the tomboy, just as she did every r&ocirc;le she essayed.</p>
+
+<p>From the moment Herbert Hunter came to her rescue in the affair of Tommy
+Page, he was exalted to the highest pedestal in her temple of worship.
+Boys knew what loyalty meant. Her hero had forced all the witnesses on
+that occasion to keep absolute silence about it&mdash;with police, arrest,
+and prison terms as alternatives. That he, &ldquo;an older boy,&rdquo; should
+condescend to champion her cause was a triumph for our heroine.</p>
+
+<p>She scorned girls, she endured only the society of males from this time
+on. She could scarcely be forced into any costume but her riding
+clothes. She applied herself to sports until she played better than most
+boys. By disguising this fact, and pretending to be a mere novice, she
+was admitted to their games.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert accepted her as Man Friday with considerable reluctance, but she
+made him feel that her very gratitude gave her a sort of hold on him.
+She was very useful, if you knew how to handle her; and sheer loss, if
+you did not. She abhorred authority. If you told her she
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg&nbsp;86]</a></span>
+
+must do a thing, she stubbornly refused. If you asked it as a favour, it
+was done instantly. If you dared her to do a thing, nothing could stop
+her. She was appallingly indifferent to danger. She terrified the more
+timid souls in Herbert&rsquo;s crowd. But aside from the fact that she
+was good at their games, her main contribution was the original things
+she thought up for them to do.</p>
+
+<p>She had, at fourteen, a fair acquaintance with American history, and she
+devised rare amusements, based on the primitive life of our pioneer
+forefathers. These games lasted for weeks. Bands of Indians preyed on
+the settlers; the settlers sent messengers to the tribal chiefs. There
+were periods of parleying, smoking of the peace pipe; there were war
+dances and uprisings.</p>
+
+<p>The scene might run like this. The ship which was bringing the pilgrims,
+was wrecked off the beach, and the passengers took refuge in rowboats
+and canoes, from which they landed upon the unfriendly shores. Red men
+lay in wait for them, lurking behind sand forts. Occasionally when women
+settlers were absolutely necessary, Margie Hunter and the other girls
+were allowed to come along, but for the most part they were ruthlessly
+shut out. Isabelle, as author and stage manager, was indispensable and,
+therefore, safe.</p>
+
+<p>It took much strategy on Isabelle&rsquo;s part to effect her freedom. She
+assured Miss Watts that all the children went daily to play at the
+Hunters&rsquo;, because there was a pool, and &ldquo;You have the most fun there&rdquo;;
+so when, of an afternoon, Miss Watts accompanied her to the Hunters&rsquo;,
+and stayed chatting with the Hunter governess until
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg&nbsp;87]</a></span>
+
+it was time to go home, her charge was always wonderfully behaved until
+she was out of sight. Then she left the girls and sped off to her true
+companions. Margie threatened to tell on her, but Herbert took the
+matter in hand, and nothing came of the threat.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Max and Wally had no idea of her associations; that was Miss
+Watts&rsquo; business. Isabelle played with the children of the right set,
+which was all that really mattered. That she swaggered and boasted and
+whistled about the house, these were annoying details, but she had
+always been a pest.</p>
+
+<p>Wally protested once against her hoydenish manners.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You talk like a jockey, Isabelle. You haven&rsquo;t a grain of feminine
+charm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Feminine charm! Ha!&rdquo; snorted his daughter, with scorn.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better try to acquire a little. You&rsquo;ll need it,&rdquo; he warned her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Need it for what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Need it for your business.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is my business?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Getting married.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him with an angry flush mounting her face. She turned and
+mounted the stairs, leaning over to shout as she went, with unmistakable
+emphasis:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;When you&rsquo;ve bats in your belfry that flut,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When your <i>comprenez-vous</i> line is cut,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When there&rsquo;s nobody home<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the top of your dome,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, your head&rsquo;s not a head; it&rsquo;s a nut!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg&nbsp;88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Wally swore gently, and gave it up.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle&rsquo;s life seemed to run in a series of crises. It was always
+mounting toward or descending from a climax. The present summer of her
+fourteenth year was no exception.</p>
+
+<p>The historic American scenes were still highly popular, but Isabelle&rsquo;s
+creative spirit was not yet satisfied. She was preparing the episode of
+John Smith and Pocahontas, to be played by Herbert Hunter and herself as
+principals, when it occurred to her that the scene ought to be played,
+by night, in the woods. She proposed it to Herbert but he scoffed at it.
+They never could manage. How could they get away at night? But Isabelle
+had it all planned.</p>
+
+<p>Her idea was to pick out the spot in the woods, put up the tepees,
+collect the firewood, lay in supplies, and get everything ready in
+advance. Saturday night would be the best one for the encampment,
+because their parents always dined and danced at the club that night, so
+the coast would be clear so far as they were concerned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t parents, it&rsquo;s servants that will get in our way,&rdquo; objected
+Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you <i>think</i> how to get by them, Herbert, you can,&rdquo; urged the
+temptress.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How? Just tell me how I can get past old Mademoiselle when she sits in
+the hall outside my door?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell her you forgot something downstairs, and then run out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fat chance! She&rsquo;d give the alarm and they&rsquo;d all come on the jump.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg&nbsp;89]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if <i>I</i> can get out, I should think <i>you</i> could,&rdquo; she taunted
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How&rsquo;d we get back in? Suppose parents got back before we did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her inspiration flared like a torch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;d sleep in the tents all night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gee!&rdquo; said Herbert. This was sheer daring. It captured his imagination.
+He decided to submit it to the others. A council was called. They in
+turn were struck dumb by the idea that they should spend a night in the
+woods, untrammelled by authority.</p>
+
+<p>It took an enormous amount of planning and preparation. The problem of
+the best means of escape for each member was taken up and decided upon.
+The hour for meeting, and the place, were named. Governesses as a rule
+had their dinners early, with the children. Later, each boy was to
+complain of weariness or headache and go directly to bed. At nine
+o&rsquo;clock they would make a getaway and meet at a certain spot, centrally
+located for them all. All of them had ponies, so they could ride to the
+trysting place. Blankets must be brought by each camper, and it was
+agreed that they would sleep in their clothes.</p>
+
+<p>The day came. As the idea was to be kept secret from all girls, Isabelle
+had some trouble managing not even to see Margie Hunter, with whom she
+was, ostensibly, to spend the day. She induced Wally to drop her at the
+Hunters&rsquo; on the way to the club.</p>
+
+<p>The boys were hard at work. They greeted her casually, as was their
+habit. It was the way they kept up the bluff
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg&nbsp;90]</a></span>
+
+to themselves that they had no use for girls. Isabelle was satisfied
+with their manners. She knew in her own mind that she was the brains of
+the whole concern, so why cavil at their bluff, male ways?</p>
+
+<p>They worked like beavers all day long. They went without any luncheon.
+They lugged out the tents and set them up. They made beds of boughs.
+They laid fires ready for the torch. They cached the grub in a hollow
+tree out of the way of prowling creatures. They carried out pails of
+drinking water, and borrowed the kitchen utensils from Margie&rsquo;s
+playhouse. It was late afternoon when they limped wearily back to the
+Hunters&rsquo; in search of food.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother was awf&rsquo;ly mad at you, Isabelle, because you kept luncheon
+waiting,&rdquo; said Margie, snippily. &ldquo;Where have you been?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, we were playing, and we thought we&rsquo;d go without any lunch. I hope
+there&rsquo;s tea, though,&rdquo; she added.</p>
+
+<p>There was; and they put away quantities of bread and butter, with jam,
+and lemonade, which infuriated the cook, who had to supply the demand.
+They parted, later, with fervent farewells, <i>sotto-voce</i> remarks, and
+mysterious signs.</p>
+
+<p>At home, Isabelle got ready for her supper without being told, and sat
+quietly with a book until she was called. A close observer might have
+noted that she never turned a leaf, that when a motor chugged off
+bearing her parents, she was seen to smile and sigh.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg&nbsp;91]</a></span></p>
+<p>After supper, she complained of utter weariness and went to bed. Miss
+Watts looked in at half past eight; Isabelle was breathing evenly. A
+few moments later, she heard the governess close the door between their
+two rooms. Immediately she got up, dropped her night gown, worn over her
+riding clothes, and slipped out. A moment later she was in the stable,
+getting a saddle on her horse, tying her blanket to the horn. She
+managed her exit without interference, because Saturday night there were
+&ldquo;doin&rsquo;s&rdquo; among the servants.</p>
+
+<p>Once on the road, she let the pony run. She had never been out alone at
+night before. It was scary, she admitted to herself. Once an automobile,
+on the way to the club with somebody&rsquo;s parents, caused her to dash off
+the road into the underbrush. Finally she reached the meeting place, and
+found two scared boys ahead of her. Shortly, the others arrived. There
+were no signs of hilarity over this adventure, they were all solemn and
+glum. Some of them were in Indian garb, with tomahawks; others in
+boy-scout hats, as pilgrims.</p>
+
+<p>When they were all gathered they moved in a body to the camp. It was
+darker than pitch in the woods, so they had to lead the ponies, and they
+stumbled over tree trunks, and logs. Unseen things scuttled away
+underfoot, and terror began to spread like measles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get the fire lighted, then we can see all right,&rdquo; said Isabelle the
+dauntless.</p>
+
+<p>They managed that finally and peered about them, as the weird shadows
+danced and made fantastic shapes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get the grub and eat,&rdquo; said Herbert.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg&nbsp;92]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet, not till we do the play,&rdquo; objected Isabelle. &ldquo;Somebody bind up
+John Smith and the rest sit round the place where we&rsquo;re going to
+execution him. The Indians can lurk&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say, I ain&rsquo;t goin&rsquo; to lurk in the dark, out there,&rdquo; protested a brave,
+peering into the blackness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I</i> am!&rdquo; said Isabelle, marching upon unseen terrors among the trees.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;re going to let a <i>girl</i> dare you!&rdquo; cried Herbert, secretly glad
+that his r&ocirc;le required no heroic exposure.</p>
+
+<p>The Indians reluctantly followed Isabelle Pocahontas into the shadows,
+stepping high, and jumping back with exclamations now and then.</p>
+
+<p>The chopping block was brought out where John Smith&rsquo;s head was to rest,
+then Pocahontas crept through into the firelight and the play was begun,
+but there was no real spirit in the affair. Isabelle felt this; so, to
+create a new interest, she urged John Smith to break bread with the
+Indians after he had been saved by her, and released. They hauled out
+the food, slightly the worse for squirrels; they cooked the bacon,
+eating it nearly raw, with hunks of bread. They had a thermos bottle of
+cold tea which they referred to as &ldquo;rum.&rdquo; There were plenty of doughnuts
+and a bakery pie.</p>
+
+<p>The repast roused their spirits considerably. After it was finished,
+John Smith invited the Indians to spend the night, and everybody agreed
+to turn in. There was an obvious reluctance on the part of some to enter
+the dark tents. Things unseen rattled inside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say! why not roll up in our blankets around the fire?&rdquo; said doughty
+John Smith, the Pilgrim&rsquo;s pride.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good boy&mdash;that&rsquo;s the boy,&rdquo; agreed the Indians.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg&nbsp;93]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So they curled up in a circle inside their covers, as near the blaze as
+they could lie, wide-eyed and on the watch. Each one secretly longed for
+his bed at home, and excoriated Isabelle with her devil&rsquo;s gift of
+invention. But after a while the hard labour of the day began to tell,
+and as the fire grew fainter, one by one they dropped asleep, and the
+shadows closed in upon them completely.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg&nbsp;94]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2>
+
+<p>At the club the Saturday night hilarity was at its height. The
+Country-Club set took themselves very seriously&mdash;at least as seriously
+as they took anything. They conceived themselves as a group, somehow set
+apart. They lived idle, luxurious lives. Like the lily they toiled not,
+which of itself was an obvious mark of distinction in a work-a-day
+world.</p>
+
+<p>In the winter they &ldquo;played together&rdquo; in town, at Palm Beach, or in
+California. In the summer they played together on yachts, or at the
+Country Club of &ldquo;the colony.&rdquo; They hedged themselves in with a thick
+wall of prejudice against the newcomer, the outsider. Like the Labour
+Union, they valiantly fought the &ldquo;open-shop&rdquo; idea!</p>
+
+<p>Now, since their superiority&mdash;real or imagined&mdash;lay in the triumph of
+artifice over Nature; or, more brutally, since it lay in money rather
+than in wit; the natural recourse of the elect was to various forms of
+spirituous assistance. They never could have endured each other twelve
+months in the year without it. So, on Saturday nights a sufficient
+number of cocktails was served to ensure a certain hilarity, and, in
+case this should wear off, the bar worked steadily during the evening.
+So it was on the Saturday night in question, and the party was &ldquo;going&rdquo;
+very well.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg&nbsp;95]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Wally was dancing with Nancy Horton, when Billy, her husband, stopped
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Nance, the butler just telephoned that Teddy isn&rsquo;t in his
+bed, and they can&rsquo;t find him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rubbish! He&rsquo;s somewhere about. Come on, Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. Hold on a minute. They phoned the Hunters to see if he was there,
+and they discovered that Herbert is missing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The little beasts! Where do you suppose they are? Do the Hunters know
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The servants were going to telephone them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want me to do?&rdquo;&mdash;shortly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think we ought to go home&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will not! You go, if you like, and give him a good thrashing when you
+find him. Come on, Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She whirled away with Wally, who said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank the Lord, my kid is a girl!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But, one by one, parents were called by the &rsquo;phone, until a sufficient
+number of fathers had left to make the affair one-sided. So it broke up,
+with loud protests on the part of the women against the tyranny of
+children, and the slavery of parenthood.</p>
+
+<p>Max grumbled all the way home, and Wally slept. But once indoors, he
+surreptitiously crept to Isabelle&rsquo;s door and tiptoed in. Her nightie was
+a heap by her bed, the bed crumpled and empty. He hurried to Miss
+Watts&rsquo;s door and roused her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Watts, where is Isabelle?&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In bed, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, she isn&rsquo;t. I&rsquo;ve looked.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg&nbsp;96]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;But she went to bed at half past eight. I saw her asleep myself. Just
+a minute, please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He heard her pattering about. He went downstairs and summoned Matthews.
+He knew nothing. He had been on duty all evening, but he had not seen
+her. Wally ordered him to question all the servants. Miss Watts, greatly
+excited, appeared in a bathrobe. A telephone call to the Hunters&rsquo; house
+brought the reply that Mr.&nbsp;Hunter and the servants were out looking,
+now. Wally went up to his wife&rsquo;s room. She was in bed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle&rsquo;s gone,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gone where?&rdquo; she asked, sitting up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. With the others, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Watts? She is responsible for Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She saw her asleep in bed at eight thirty. Miss Watts put out her light
+at nine. The kid got away somehow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Watts had no business going to bed. Where were the other servants?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They were on duty and saw nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On duty, in the kitchen, having skylarks!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No matter. The thing is what to do now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go to bed. She&rsquo;ll turn up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be a fool! I&rsquo;ll take a car and join the searching party. Nobody
+knows what those kids are up to.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right; go ahead. But this time, Wally Bryce, I punish her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He hurried out, and got into a fast car, with Matthews and Henry, the
+chauffeur, in the back seat. He went like the wind to the Hunters&rsquo;. No
+news yet, but they informed him that twelve boys were missing.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg&nbsp;97]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;My Isabelle is with them,&rdquo; said Wally.</p>
+
+<p>The Hunters&rsquo; butler look startled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My word, sir, she <i>is</i> a limb!&rdquo; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>On the road Wally met Billy Horton in his car.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They must be around here somewhere. They couldn&rsquo;t get far. If I don&rsquo;t
+fix that young man of mine!&rdquo; he threatened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My kid is with them,&rdquo; Wally groaned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t say!&rdquo; ejaculated Horton.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a streak of light, as from a fire, flared up in the woods, to
+the left, and died out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see that?&rdquo; demanded Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, looked like&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beg pardon, sir, fire in the woods, that was.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve set the woods on fire,&rdquo; shouted Wally, and started off full
+speed. Horton followed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep your eye on the place, you fellows. About here, wasn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stopped the car, and they jumped out. Henry carried a bunghole light
+and they penetrated the woods, single file, shouting as they went. No
+answer came, but they kept on. Before they had gone very far, a pony
+whinnied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hear that? We&rsquo;re coming to something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They heard motors on the road behind, and shouts in answer to their
+shouts. Other fathers rushed in presently and joined them. Henry stopped
+and halted the entire line.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll be blowed,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>He swept the cleared place with his light, and they all
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg&nbsp;98]</a></span>
+
+crowded up behind him. A bed of ashes smouldered, and around it, in deep
+oblivion of well-earned sleep, lay thirteen blanketed braves, a trusty
+weapon&mdash;tomahawk or sword&mdash;at hand beside each sleeper.</p>
+
+<p>The fathers descended upon them, and with difficulty aroused them to the
+capture. They were led, carried, or dragged to motors, and carted home.
+Isabelle borne between Henry and Matthews scarcely woke at all. In fact,
+when she woke in the morning to Miss Watts&rsquo;s grieved expression, all
+memory of the transfer was gone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Isabelle,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;how could you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child struggled with her memories.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who found me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Were the others found too?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did they get taken home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gee!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all you have to say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are they going to do to me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, but your parents are very angry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I bet they are,&rdquo; grinned the culprit.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is to become of you, Isabelle?&rdquo; inquired Miss Watts, with tragic
+fervour.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle ate a huge breakfast, and waited cheerfully for her summons to
+judgment. It came at eleven. She went to her mother&rsquo;s room, where that
+lady sat in her bed. Her husband sat by, arms folded, expression stern.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hello,&rdquo; said Isabelle.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg&nbsp;99]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sit down!&rdquo; her mother ordered, fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle sat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did you get out of this house last night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Walked out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where was Miss Watts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Asleep in bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where were the other servants?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At their regular Saturday night party. They call it Club Night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When did these boys induce you to go on this disgraceful expedition?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They didn&rsquo;t induce me,&rdquo; replied Isabelle. &ldquo;It was my idea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle Bryce!&rdquo; her mother burst out. &ldquo;You asked twelve boys to spend
+the night with you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I thought it would be fun to play John Smith, Pocahontas and
+Indians at night, with a fire. So we planned it. Then we thought you
+might get back from the club before we did, and kick up a row, so I said
+why not sleep in the tents, and sneak in at daylight, so you&rsquo;d never
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ever hear anything so awful?&rdquo; Max demanded of Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think she understands just what it is she has done,&rdquo; he said,
+hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you dare make excuses for her!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know it isn&rsquo;t decent for you to spend the night in the woods,
+with twelve boys?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked Isabelle, interested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg&nbsp;100]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, why don&rsquo;t you tell her why not?&rdquo; burst out Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be vulgar, Wally. Just leave this to me, please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve tried every way I know to make you act like a decent human being,
+and you won&rsquo;t. Now, there&rsquo;s only one way left.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Penitentiary?&rdquo; inquired Isabelle in all earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No impudence! You have disgraced yourself thoroughly this time, and us,
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle turned to her father. She had not the least idea what they were
+hinting at.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, what&rsquo;s all the row about?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to explain it to her, I tell you,&rdquo; he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce ignored him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have decided that your punishment this time is to be a severe one,&rdquo;
+she said sternly. &ldquo;You are to be sent away to school. We will see if
+that can save you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;School? Boarding school?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a girls&rsquo; school?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you&rsquo;d prefer a boys&rsquo; school?&rdquo; Max said, sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I would,&rdquo; her daughter answered, literally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no use!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce. &ldquo;Take her away, Wally. I shall
+decide upon a school&mdash;a very strict one&mdash;and she shall be sent there
+next month. It is evident Miss Watts cannot cope with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle, somewhat dazed, walked back to the schoolroom. She grasped the
+idea that this time she had exceeded
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg&nbsp;101]</a></span>
+
+her limit. She had never seen her mother so angry, and even Wally was as
+grave as a judge.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why is it wicked for me to play Indian with the boys?&rdquo; she demanded of
+Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t playing Indian; it&rsquo;s&mdash;little girls can&rsquo;t spend the night in
+the woods with boys,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But why not? They were my regular friends.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t your mother tell you why it is wrong?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I must speak to her, Isabelle, before we discuss it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was only the beginning of the revelation of her ignominy. She was not
+allowed to go anywhere or to see her friends. Once when she saw Margie
+Hunter on the road, and waved to her, Margie looked the other way and
+did not wave back. She smuggled off a letter to Herbert and he smuggled
+one to say that he was not allowed to see her, or write to her&mdash;that he
+was being sent away to school.</p>
+
+<p>When she questioned Miss Watts she met with pained reticence&mdash;no frank
+explanation. The girl felt that she was a prisoner, under sentence for
+something which she could not understand. She turned hither and thither
+in her appeal for help and understanding, and everybody turned aside as
+if she were an outcast. The iron of injustice began to enter her soul.
+She was at the impressionable age, when she felt deeply every injury
+done her. She thought much of Ann Barnes and Martin Christiansen, her
+two friends. They would have understood. They would have answered the
+questions, told her the truth which
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg&nbsp;102]</a></span>
+
+her mother hinted at yet failed to explain. It was a period of
+bitterness and revolt, of enforced inaction and isolation. It was to
+bear fruit in her whole life, and no one guessed it&mdash;or
+cared.</p>
+
+<p>But it so happened that Christiansen, all unknown to her, was to help
+her. He happened to meet Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, full of maternal anxiety about the
+school question, and he immediately suggested The Hill Top School,
+conducted by some friends of his who were Quakers. They accepted only a
+few children, but they accomplished wonders with them. Max listened and
+took note. He offered to write a letter in Isabelle&rsquo;s behalf. Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce
+accepted this help gratefully, and in the end it was arranged that
+Isabelle was to be sent there. But the little girl knew nothing of this.</p>
+
+<p>Events marched. She was taken to town and a school outfit bought for
+her. She was allowed no word of choice in her things. Max, coldly
+distant, and Miss Watts, nervously conciliatory, accompanied her during
+this ordeal of fitting and ordering. A month earlier, she would have
+worked up a plan of revolt and carried it through, but now, it did not
+seem worth while. Their attitude toward her struck in on her spirit. She
+hated the thought of the school, but she was glad she was going away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the name of this place they&rsquo;re sending me?&rdquo; she asked Miss Watts
+one day.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Hill Top School.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In Massachusetts. It is a very nice school, and I think you will be
+happy there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg&nbsp;103]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t I? Just!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts frowned. There was a queer streak of cynicism growing in the
+child that gave her pause. She was fond of her, in her way, but she was
+glad that her responsibility for her was soon to cease. She had been
+induced by Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce to deliver Isabelle at the school, as the day of
+her departure fell in horse-show week, and The Beeches was to be full of
+house guests.</p>
+
+<p>It was a ripe, mellow, September day when they left. A day on which
+Isabelle longed to fling herself into the saddle and gallop and gallop
+through the red and yellow world. Instead, for some heinous but
+incomprehensible crime, she was being sent to prison. That was the
+attitude of mind in which she viewed it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right, now, Isabelle; the motor is here. Have you said good-bye to
+your mother?&rdquo; inquired Miss Watts, all a-flutter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; lied Isabelle, and hurried down to the car.</p>
+
+<p>Wally was at the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you driving us to the station, Wally?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I would,&rdquo; he answered, embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>She got in and sat beside him. Her attempt at a smile worried him. After
+all, she was just a kid, being bundled off in disgrace. He felt a vague
+regret that he meant so little to her. He wondered if she really loved
+any one. Then her search for &ldquo;regular parents&rdquo; came back to haunt him.
+Funny business this, having kids. Not so simple&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right, kid?&rdquo; he asked her, as they waited for the train.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg&nbsp;104]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; she said, with an effort at her old <i>insouciance</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; he said jocosely, adding, as the train came in, with an
+effort to avoid any emotion: &ldquo;Write if you need money.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her, and she clung to him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a good old thing, Wally,&rdquo; she said, hoarsely; and then,
+silently, she followed Miss Watts into the train.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg&nbsp;105]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2>
+
+<p>The little god of Chance must have sat smiling on his throne when Mrs.
+Wally Bryce decided upon Hill Top School as the spot to which her
+daughter should be banished. She felt that Christiansen&rsquo;s recommendation
+was enough, together with the list of girls who attended it, so she did
+not trouble to visit the place. The few necessary letters which passed
+between herself and Adam Benjamin, the head of the school, were formal
+business communications, in regard to terms, books, equipment, and such
+details. Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s insistence upon the simplest clothes suited her
+exactly. The girl had to be put somewhere until she could be admitted to
+a fashionable New York finishing school where she had been entered as a
+baby. This Hill Top place would do as a stop gap.</p>
+
+<p>As for Isabelle, in the bitterness of her spirit, her only thought was
+that, whatever the place proved to be, she would hate it.</p>
+
+<p>She and Miss Watts arrived in the afternoon of a perfect autumn day. The
+train was late, so that Miss Watts was forced to hand over her charge to
+Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin, who met them at the station, with only a few minutes&rsquo; wait
+for her train back to New York.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg&nbsp;106]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry not to have taken you to the school, and seen your room,
+Isabelle,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We will look after her,&rdquo; Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin said with a genial smile.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle looked at him again. He was a big man, strong and bronzed, as
+if he lived in the open. When he smiled, his very blue eyes smiled too,
+and many little wrinkles appeared about them, as if his smile sent out
+rays, like the sun. He wore loose, snuff-coloured clothes, and a
+broad-brimmed hat.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts&rsquo;s train thundered in. There was a moment of confusion, of
+exhortation to be a good girl, of farewell; and then the train was gone.
+The last member of Isabelle&rsquo;s world had deserted her, and she choked
+back a sob of loneliness, of rebellion. It was all mirrored in her
+tell-tale face. A big strong hand suddenly enclosed her own, and she
+looked up into Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s wrinkly smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thee must not feel lonely, little girl,&rdquo; he said, gently. He led her
+away to a wide, low surrey, with two fat dappled horses. Isabelle tried
+to snatch her hand away, but Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin seemed unaware of it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If thee will get into the front seat with me, we will put thy trunk in
+the back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Without any reply she got in. Presently they were off at a good pace,
+through lovely country, mellow in the late afternoon sunshine. Mr.
+Benjamin talked to the horses in a friendly way, but he left Isabelle to
+herself. After a little they were among the hills. The sumac flamed
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg&nbsp;107]</a></span>
+
+everywhere, and bronze oak trees smouldered in the sun. Once Mr.
+Benjamin drew up and pointed to a flower beside the road.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does thee see that flower, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very interesting,&rdquo; he mused, and he unfolded the tale of this
+plant. How exacting it was, how its seed germinated in only a certain
+soil, how it bloomed in only certain seasons under special weather
+conditions. Isabelle&rsquo;s quick imagination kindled at the tale. It was
+hard to hate this man, whom she had visualized as her jailer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you say &lsquo;thee&rsquo; instead of &lsquo;you&rsquo;?&rdquo; she asked as her first remark.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I am a Quaker, and we use the Friends&rsquo; speech.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are Quakers?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, and explained to her, and as he talked they swung between
+gates into a long tree-bordered drive that climbed and climbed until it
+reached a hill top; and here a low, rambling, many-roomed house spread
+itself pleasantly upon the earth. Some girls were raking leaves and
+waved to them as they passed. The fat horses stopped at the house. Mr.
+Benjamin got out and lifted out the trunk and bag. Just then the door
+opened and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin appeared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ph&oelig;be, my dear, this is our new child, Isabelle Bryce,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin bent and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thee is very welcome, Isabelle,&rdquo; she said, taking her
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg&nbsp;108]</a></span>
+
+hand and leading her indoors. A great, broad hall bisected the house. In
+the living room, to the right, a fire sparkled and crackled. The room
+gave out a feeling of friendliness. There were big chairs, student
+lamps, pleasant colours and shadows.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope thee did not get chilled coming up the hill. There is a nip in
+the air these fall nights,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I wasn&rsquo;t cold, thank you,&rdquo; Isabelle replied. The last two words
+dragged themselves out in spite of her.</p>
+
+<p>It was as difficult to hate Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin as it was to hate Mr.
+Benjamin. And the warm big room was nice. But no&mdash;she wasn&rsquo;t going to
+give in. She was a rebel and they should find her such!</p>
+
+<p>Just then a girl came into the room. She was younger than Isabelle&mdash;ten
+years old, perhaps. She was fair and frail with a discontented little
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Peggy, this is Isabelle Bryce. This is Peggy Starr, Isabelle. I thought
+thee might show Isabelle her room, Peggy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The two girls looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right; come on,&rdquo; said the younger girl, ungraciously.</p>
+
+<p>They mounted the wide stairs to the corridor above, with bedrooms
+opening off on each side. Peggy led the way into a huge room, with many
+windows. It had two beds, two bureaus, two closets.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I s&rsquo;pose you&rsquo;re my room mate,&rdquo; Peggy remarked, staring at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you sleep here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg&nbsp;109]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I slept in another girl&rsquo;s room last night, but I belong here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When did you come?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yesterday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Like it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, hate it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; said Isabelle, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cried all night,&rdquo; boasted Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never cry,&rdquo; said Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>The other girl stared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are there many girls here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You make ten. The rest are raking for a bonfire. Sillies!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t they invite you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do rough things like that. I&rsquo;m delicate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle heard shouts of laughter, and hurried to the window. Down below
+in the twilight a crowd of laughing girls was burying a prostrate victim
+under the leaves. They shrieked and cavorted about her. A yellow moon
+hung low over the hills. All at once, clear and high, a bugle call
+arose, and echoed far and near. It was a scene and impression she was
+never to forget.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; she demanded of Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Time to dress. Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin bugles whenever we have to do anything,&rdquo;
+complained Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>There was a rush on the stairs, more laughter, questions called and
+answered, doors slammed. A poignant sense of loneliness, of
+homesickness, swept over Isabelle. She turned to Peggy, who sat by.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate it!&rdquo; she said fiercely.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg&nbsp;110]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;So do I. Going to change?&rdquo;&mdash;languidly. &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t. Girls don&rsquo;t have
+to, their first night. Just wash and come on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle followed her suggestion and presently the two girls went
+downstairs together. Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin sat together on a high backed
+settle by the fire. They were enjoying each other&rsquo;s conversation. Mrs.
+Benjamin&rsquo;s face shone as she listened to her husband. It was rather a
+plain face, surmounted by hair parted smoothly in the middle and drawn
+low into a diminutive knot at the back. She wore a queer dress, Isabelle
+thought, and a fine white kerchief was folded across her breast. This
+was her costume always, save on Sunday, when the dress was of silk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope thee found thy room pleasant, Isabelle,&rdquo; she said as the girls
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thee has a fine view over the hills,&rdquo; Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin said.</p>
+
+<p>Then the other girls trooped in, and Isabelle was introduced to them. A
+servant announced supper. Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin gave his arm to Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin,
+and they led the way, followed by the girls, two by two, arm in arm,
+across the hall to the dining room. There was an unexpected moment for
+Isabelle when everybody bowed the head and offered silent grace. The
+supper was plain, but how those girls did eat! Cold meats, baked
+potatoes and apple sauce, and cookies disappeared in quantities. Even
+the rice pudding had to be served twice all round.</p>
+
+<p>There was talk and laughter. No sense of disorder or
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg&nbsp;111]</a></span>
+
+noise, but it was just jolly. Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin at one end of the long table
+beamed at Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin at the other end. They both played a part in the
+sprightly give-and-take of the children. It was like a happy family.
+Isabelle was silent, taking note of everything. Peggy was sullen.</p>
+
+<p>After supper there was a rush for sweaters.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get your coat, Isabelle, and come out. We&rsquo;re going to have a bonfire
+to-night. No lessons until to-morrow,&rdquo; shouted a girl named Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle started up to get her coat, but on second thoughts she went
+back for Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I can&rsquo;t do those things, I tell you. I&rsquo;m too delicate,&rdquo; whined the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It won&rsquo;t hurt thee at all, my dear, if thee wraps up well,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m never allowed out in the night air&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get thy sweater and come out, little sister. Thee doesn&rsquo;t know this
+night air,&rdquo; laughed Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>So in the end Peggy allowed herself to be persuaded, and went along.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Silly, spoiled little minx,&rdquo; commented Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, we&rsquo;ll soon manage her, my dear, but what about this smouldering
+Isabelle with her old eyes?&rdquo; sighed his wife.</p>
+
+<p>He patted her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I leave her to thee, my Ph&oelig;be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Outside the moon rode high, the air was crisp and sweet, the silence
+unbroken save for the shouts of the girls. The leaves were piled in a
+huge mound, in a cleared space
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg&nbsp;112]</a></span>
+
+some distance from the house. They set a match to it, and the flames
+leapt hungry and fierce. The girls formed a circle and danced around it,
+singing. Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin stopped a second on his way to the barn, and
+called a warning about whirling skirts as he went on.</p>
+
+<p>The circle broke into dancing pairs. Some one started leap frog.
+Isabelle forgot everything except that she was having a good time. There
+were friendliness and joy and freedom. She drank of them to the full.
+She played wildly, excitedly. She began to lead in the games. Even Peggy
+forgot her r&ocirc;le and joined in.</p>
+
+<p>The flames were lower now, and with a sudden running leap Isabelle
+jumped over them. Without hesitation the whole line followed&mdash;all except
+Peggy, who held back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, Peggy, don&rsquo;t be a &rsquo;fraid-cat!&rdquo; shouted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>So Peggy made a half-hearted jump and landed in the fire. In a second
+her skirts were ablaze, and the silence of terror struck the girls dumb.
+Isabelle ran at Peggy and dragged her out, she threw her on the ground,
+tearing at her skirt with her bare hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pile sweaters on her!&rdquo; she ordered the girls.</p>
+
+<p>They obeyed, and Isabelle threw herself upon the smouldering heap, in an
+effort to quench the fire. Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin came upon them, and the girls
+explained in shrill unison. He lifted Isabelle off; picked Peggy up,
+half unconscious; cut away the still smoking skirt, and carried her into
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>The girls followed, awed and weak from fright. They sat in silence in
+the living room awaiting the report from
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg&nbsp;113]</a></span>
+
+upstairs. Both the Benjamins were up there. There had been no serious
+damage done. The heavy wool shirt had protected her legs, but the shock
+had played havoc with poor Peggy&rsquo;s nerves, and she screamed and
+cried long after she was rubbed, greased, bandaged, and
+comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin finally came downstairs to get some hot milk for her,
+she found the frightened girls still sitting there. She relieved their
+minds at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did it happen?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>They explained how Isabelle jumped the blaze and urged timid Peggy to
+follow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Isabelle?&rdquo; demanded Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that nobody knew. In the excitement they had not noticed her
+absence. Should they go and look for her?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; I&rsquo;ll find her. Agnes, go to the kitchen and get a glass of hot milk
+and take it to Peggy. The rest of you go to bed as quietly as possible.
+I will find Isabelle,&rdquo; said Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>They tiptoed away as silent as ghosts. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin put a heavy coat
+about her shoulders, and went out. The clearing where the bonfire had
+been, lay on a knoll above the house. As she approached it she saw
+silhouetted against the moon a small figure, head bent upon drawn-up
+knees, silent, &ldquo;lonely as a cloud.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, thee will take thy death of cold,&rdquo; she said gently, leaning
+over the girl.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted tragic, pitiful eyes to Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you come to send me home?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg&nbsp;114]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;ve come to take thee to bed,&rdquo;&mdash;simply.</p>
+
+<p>She drew the girl to her feet, put her hand on her shoulder; and
+together, in silence, they approached the house. She led her to the fire
+and chaffed her cold hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to punish me,&rdquo; said Isabelle at last.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, when any one at Hill Top breaks the rules, or acts wilfully,
+we ask her to punish herself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle could scarcely believe her ears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think thee has been sufficiently punished, Isabelle, and now I shall
+give thee a hot lemonade to warm thee up before thee goes to bed,&rdquo; the
+kind voice went on.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly without warning, Isabelle threw herself on the couch and began
+to sob. Not like a child&rsquo;s easy tears, but like the tortured sobbing of
+a nature long pent up. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin said nothing. She sat down on the
+couch, drew the child&rsquo;s head into her lap, and let the spasm spend
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>So it was that Isabelle, who never wept, spent her first evening at Hill
+Top School.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg&nbsp;115]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2>
+
+<p>The period of adjustment to life at the Hill Top School was a very
+bewildering one to Isabelle. The excitement over Peggy&rsquo;s accident was
+soon past, to that heroine&rsquo;s intense regret. She prolonged her nervous
+prostration as long as possible, and was duly petted and made much of by
+the girls. Isabelle, full of remorse for the trouble she had brought
+upon her room-mate, adopted her as her special charge.</p>
+
+<p>The routine of the school, if you could call it that, began. Mr.&nbsp;and
+Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin had strange ideas in regard to the training of the young.
+They kept the school small, so that they might not be hampered in their
+experiments, and strangely enough, they drew their pupils largely from
+the families of the rich. When he was asked about this once, Mr.
+Benjamin said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It seems to be our mission to teach these little richlings to</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&lsquo;Ride a cock horse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Banbury Cross,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To see what money <i>can&rsquo;t</i> buy!&rsquo;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They get life so crookedly from servants and such,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;Ph&oelig;be
+and I just try to straighten them out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The process by which these two rare souls accomplished this
+straightening out was quite their own. There was
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg&nbsp;116]</a></span>
+
+only one extra teacher, a Frenchwoman who came from Boston twice a week.
+For the rest, Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin conducted the school, and did all
+the teaching.</p>
+
+<p>During October and November, and again in late April and May, lessons
+were all out of doors. The whole school studied Botany and Zoology with
+Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin. They wandered over the hills, on the brisk autumn days,
+with their boxes and cases and bottles for specimens. These lessons were
+a series of enchanted tales to Isabelle, of how the life force persists
+in bugs and plants. The whole morning on certain days of the week would
+be devoted to this peripatetic grazing, then note books would be written
+up before lunch.</p>
+
+<p>This function was also a lesson. Certain girls took charge of it each
+day&mdash;planned, ordered, prepared and cooked the meal, in the open, over a
+gypsy fire. The girls in charge were limited in expenditure, and there
+was great rivalry among them to find something new and toothsome to make
+in the skillet or the big kettle. Careful accounts were kept by each set
+of managers, and if, at the end of the school term, there was credit
+balance, a special party was given on the savings.</p>
+
+<p>A second committee took charge of serving the meal; a third, of the
+clearing away and dishwashing. Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin were always treated
+as guests on these occasions.</p>
+
+<p>Arithmetic was accompanied by instruction in banking. Allowances were
+deposited in a central bank, with elected officers. All money was drawn
+by check. Books were balanced weekly, and penalty imposed upon careless
+financiers.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg&nbsp;117]</a></span></p>
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin conducted the classes in English Literature, and because
+she loved books truly, she led these girls step by step into the realm
+of the best. Shakespeare was studied and loved, and played under the
+trees. Wordsworth and Tennyson and Longfellow read in the open, are very
+different from Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Longfellow parsed indoors.
+Poetry was not a &ldquo;study&rdquo; to be pored over in the schoolroom; it was a
+natural beautiful expression of life, sung instead of spoken. So they
+came to our modern poets with interest and understanding, because these
+new poets, forsooth, spoke the language of these children of the
+present.</p>
+
+<p>Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, Victor Hugo, read aloud and discussed;
+these were a treat&mdash;no task&mdash;here. These great artists were considered
+not only as makers of romance, creators of literature, but also as
+historians of their times. Their books were studied along with the
+history of the countries and the peoples that they described. Then came
+the geography of the places wherein the stories were laid, then a study
+of the social conditions and customs of the periods to which they gave
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>American history was taught by both the Benjamins. It was their hobby.
+Not the sort of history taught in most schools, &ldquo;fixed up&rdquo; for the
+young, but the true history of our country&mdash;its blunders, its
+stupidities, its triumphs.</p>
+
+<p>So through the whole curriculum, acquiring knowledge was a pleasant
+thing. It was not a matter of being fed with little unrelated chunks of
+information, on this or on that. It was rather being led into a great
+field, where
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg&nbsp;118]</a></span>
+
+now this part, now that, held your interest, but you never lost sight of
+the whole expanse.</p>
+
+<p>As for play, there were nutting expeditions, hay rides, marshmallow
+roasts, any number of out-of-door joys. It was as nearly a normal life
+as can be reached in these days of ours.</p>
+
+<p>To Isabelle it was unbelievable. Everything they did during the day
+interested her. Her old passion for leadership spurred her on, but now
+it was a spur to excel in legitimate things. Her sense of rebellion was
+laid away, because she liked nearly everything she had to do, and her
+days were so busy that there was no excess vitality to work itself off
+in pranks.</p>
+
+<p>Not that she was a reformed soul&mdash;far from it! There were times when she
+balked the duties she liked least, and was gently called upon by Mrs.
+Benjamin to punish herself. After the first amusement of this novelty
+wore off, it became plain to her that the punishment she administered to
+herself was always more severe than any one else would have prescribed.
+Sometimes punishment was decided upon by the community as a whole. By
+degrees the girls all began to realize &ldquo;the social spirit&rdquo; for the first
+time in their self-centred, individualistic lives.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin,&rdquo; Isabelle said one day, bursting into the presence of
+that lady, &ldquo;I feel full of the devil to-day!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dost thou, Isabelle? Dear me! we must think of something to dispossess
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Better give me something <i>hard</i> to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is now half past eight. Suppose thee goes down to the big field to
+help Henry pitch hay until ten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg&nbsp;119]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; agreed Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thee might speak to Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin on thy way out, about the seven devils
+that possess thee,&rdquo; smiled her teacher.</p>
+
+<p>Another influence that was working in the development of the girl was
+the dependent devotion of Peggy Starr. Her young room-mate worshipped
+Isabelle. She began by following her through fire, and she would not
+have stopped at water. What Isabelle did and said and thought was
+Peggy&rsquo;s law.</p>
+
+<p>Now Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin took hold of the situation at once. She disapproved of
+the school girl &ldquo;crush.&rdquo; She had a long talk with Isabelle and urged her
+to look after the younger girl, to help her forget her &ldquo;claim&rdquo; to
+invalidism, to influence her to normal activity. Isabelle accepted the
+responsibility and felt it deeply. She restrained herself from this and
+that because of Peggy. If she did things, Peggy would do them. So again,
+wise Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin let her teach herself her first lessons in
+self-control.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle,&rdquo; Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin said to her, when she had been at the school
+about two months, &ldquo;I have a letter from thy father. He says thee does
+not write home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been busy,&rdquo; Isabelle said, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what does thee do on Sunday afternoons, when the other girls write
+home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather not tell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But thee writes; I&rsquo;ve seen thee.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want thee to write thy mother to-day, Isabelle,&rdquo; he said, sternly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg&nbsp;120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He told his wife of this conversation later.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She writes volumes on Sunday,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;now what does she do with it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is one of the strangest children we&rsquo;ve ever had, Adam,&rdquo; she
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is rather exhausting to me,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s lived under abnormal conditions of some sort. I cannot seem to
+visualize her parents at all. She never speaks of them. She was so
+bitter and sullen when she came to us,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin mused. &ldquo;I must try
+to get her confidence about her parents, she may be needing help.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She came to thee just in time, my Ph&oelig;be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s true. A little more and she would have been a bitter cynic
+at eighteen. Even now when she just begins to respond, like a
+frost-bitten plant, I am not sure of the blossom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hot-house growth, thee must remember.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She interests me deeply, and I&rsquo;m growing very fond of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lucky Isabelle,&rdquo; her husband smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the day when the other girls were out at play Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin
+came upon Isabelle, pen in hand, gazing into the distance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is troubling my child?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin told me to write to Max.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Max?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thy mother, and thee calls her Max?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I always have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it is not respectful, is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg&nbsp;121]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, but I don&rsquo;t respect her much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t thee?&rdquo;&mdash;calmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, you can&rsquo;t&rdquo;&mdash;earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what does thee call thy father?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin smiled. Here was all the clue she needed to the kind of
+parents Isabelle possessed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It may have been considered precocious, when thee was little, to call
+them so. But if I were in thy place, I would not do it now. It gives the
+wrong impression of thy manners. I think thee has very pretty manners,&rdquo;
+she added.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle flushed with pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see, Max&mdash;my mother&mdash;doesn&rsquo;t really care where I am, or what I do,
+so long as I&rsquo;m not in her way, so I don&rsquo;t know what to write her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t thee write thy father, then?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it would be easier,&rdquo; she admitted. &ldquo;Wally is a good sort, and
+understands more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Write to him then. That will do, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right. But nobody writes <i>me</i> letters. I never get any.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To whom does thee write in the letter hour, my dear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle was on her guard at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, to somebody I like.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some friend of thine?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Um&mdash;yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t thee tell me about this friend? Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin and I are
+especially interested in the friends of our girls. I have never seen
+thee post thy letters.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg&nbsp;122]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t post them&rdquo;&mdash;shamefacedly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, they are to an imaginary friend,&rdquo; said Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, seizing an
+idea.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s delightful. I used to have an imaginary companion, too. Is thine
+a girl?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin ignored Isabelle&rsquo;s uncommunicativeness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why wouldn&rsquo;t that be a good idea for the theme class, Isabelle?
+&lsquo;Letters to an imaginary chum&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mine isn&rsquo;t a chum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would thee care to tell me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle rose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show them to you,&rdquo; she said; and she ran upstairs, and brought a
+collection of letters to lay in Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s lap.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank thee, dear. May I read them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girl nodded. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin lifted the first one. It was addressed
+to: &ldquo;My Regular Parents.&rdquo; Isabelle went and threw herself down by the
+fire, her face turned away, while Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="noin">Oh my dear Parents:</p>
+
+<p>I wish you could see this beautiful school I&rsquo;ve come to. It has
+hills, and a large house, and Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin. Mr.
+Benjamin has a wrinkly smile, and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin is so
+understanding. They are Quakers and say &ldquo;thee&rdquo; and &ldquo;thou&rdquo; for
+&ldquo;you.&rdquo; It is sweet. When I come home let us say &ldquo;thee&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;thou&rdquo; to each other, will you? It sounds so very special.</p>
+
+<p>We study out of doors, and it is fun. We play lots of things,
+like basketball in the field, so we are healthy. My room-mate
+is Peggy Starr, a very young girl, often tiresome.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg&nbsp;123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This is Sunday, and all the girls write home, so I write you,
+dear, dear, regular parents. I think of you a great deal. Mr.
+and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin are just like you, that is why I love them so
+dearly. I am glad we are poor and have only each other, aren&rsquo;t
+you? I know some people named Max and Wally, who are rich. They
+have so much golf, and parties that they can&rsquo;t ever bother with
+their child, except to scold her. But you care about me, don&rsquo;t
+you? And you like to hear what I do at school. I would be
+lonesome without you.</p>
+
+<p>I will try hard to do good, because I love you so much.</p>
+
+<p class="center">Your loving daughter,</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Isabelle.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin finished them, then looked at the girl, whose face was
+turned away, and her smile was very tender. She spoke simply, without a
+touch of sentimentality.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear, they are very sweet and loving letters. I am glad thee thinks Mr.
+Benjamin and I are like thy &lsquo;regular parents.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle looked at her shyly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose we make an agreement, Isabelle. Thee is to write a short letter
+to thy father every Sunday, and the rest of the letter hour can be
+devoted to thy &lsquo;regular parents.&rsquo; This letter thee will post to me,
+and&mdash;since I have no &lsquo;regular daughter&rsquo;&mdash;every Sunday afternoon I will
+post a letter to thee. Is that a bargain?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; cried the girl, flaming to meet this suggestion&mdash;this
+understanding. &ldquo;Oh, dear Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;you are so
+love-ful!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg&nbsp;124]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2>
+
+<p>The new relationship established between Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin and Isabelle was
+so precious to the little girl that she abandoned her banner of revolt
+once for all, and gave herself up to the congenial atmosphere of Hill
+Top. It was the only home she had ever known, since home is a matter of
+love and people rather than bricks and stones.</p>
+
+<p>The secret correspondence was a complete outlet for Isabelle&rsquo;s
+imagination, and she pored over the letters her &ldquo;regular mother&rdquo; wrote
+her with utter devotion. She put them away to keep for all her life.
+They were indeed wonderful letters, full of the fine idealism, the
+working philosophy that inspired the Benjamins. When there was some
+misdemeanour, or some fractured rule to be called to Isabelle&rsquo;s
+attention, it was delicately introduced into the weekly letter, instead
+of being talked out in the library.</p>
+
+<p>Excess vitality got the girl into scrapes sometimes, but as the
+Benjamins came to understand her better and to love her, they found ways
+of appealing to her common sense, or her instinct for justice, to which
+she never failed to respond. Her quick mind had already put her at the
+head of her classes.</p>
+
+<p>The out-of-door life and her enjoyment of everything
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg&nbsp;125]</a></span>
+
+began to show in her whole bearing. Her face lost its sharp curves, she
+took on some flesh, her colour was high and her eyes were bright. At
+last she was coming into her birthright of happy, normal
+girlhood.</p>
+
+<p>The letters home continued to be written to Wally, and once in a long
+while she had a brief note from him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What kind of a father have you got?&rdquo; she inquired of Peggy, one day,
+after the perusal of one of these epistles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is very nice, I think. He was sorry I wasn&rsquo;t a boy, but he always
+gives me five dollars whenever he sees me. What kind is yours?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally is the nicest person in our family,&rdquo; she said guardedly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is your father handsome?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle hesitated a second.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;very.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mine isn&rsquo;t. He&rsquo;s fat&mdash;awf&rsquo;ly fat. His head blouses over his collar all
+round.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean his neck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, he hasn&rsquo;t any neck&mdash;it&rsquo;s the back of his head. Don&rsquo;t you wish your
+father looked like a Gibson man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mine does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Very tall and broad-shouldered, with wavy hair, grey eyes, and
+<i>wonderful</i> teeth! He&rsquo;s very smart looking&mdash;oh, very!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Isabelle, he must be grand!&rdquo; ejaculated Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to see him on a horse. He&rsquo;s just superb,&rdquo; she answered,
+delighted with her fairy story.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg&nbsp;126]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is?&rdquo; asked one of the crowd of six girls who joined them at this
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle&rsquo;s father. Tell them about him, Isabelle,&rdquo; urged Peggy, the
+adoring.</p>
+
+<p>So Isabelle began to enlarge upon the theme of the magnificent being who
+was her father. When she had finished his portrait Wally was a cross
+between a Norse Viking and a Greek god, with a few lines by Charles Dana
+Gibson just to bring him into the realm of reality. The girls were
+thrilled to hear of this heroic being. They entreated Isabelle to have
+him visit her, but she assured them that it was out of the question.
+This superman, this leader of society and Wall Street, could never find
+time to visit so obscure a spot.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle&rsquo;s father became a legendary figure among them, beautiful and
+godlike. She shone in the reflected glory of him for weeks. His
+experiences and adventures were added to <i>ad infinitum</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And my father was riding on his black horse, Nero, when he saw this
+<i>very</i> beautiful girl, in distress. He asked her what was the matter;
+she told him that she was falsely accused&mdash;that the police were after
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, what was she accused of, Isabelle?&rdquo;&mdash;breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Murder,&rdquo; said Isabelle, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mercy! what <i>did</i> your father do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He hesitated not a minute. With one sweep of his arm he lifted her to
+the saddle before him, and started Nero on a gallop.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did the girl scream?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg&nbsp;127]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no. She relaxed in his arms. She knew she could trust my <i>father</i>.
+He rushed her to his shooting lodge in the forest and hid her there for
+several weeks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Isabelle, didn&rsquo;t he fall in love with her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he was <i>married</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, a little thing like that wouldn&rsquo;t matter to a man like my father.
+He loved her but he told her he could not marry her because of Max and
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And did he leave her?&rdquo;&mdash;disconsolately.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he left her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did the police find her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never. She went off to Europe and nobody ever knew a thing about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did you know about it?&rdquo;&mdash;suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I am my father&rsquo;s confidante,&rdquo; boasted Isabelle. &ldquo;We tell each other
+everything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does he still love her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes; he will bear the marks to his grave.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A sigh of sentimental satisfaction went around.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish my father was interesting like that,&rdquo; sighed Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the spring when romance was in the very air, that a motor
+honked up the hill, and Wally inquired for Isabelle. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin
+received him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m anxious about Isabelle,&rdquo; he said, early in their talk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Anxious?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. You&rsquo;ve never made any complaints about her, or threatened to send
+her home or anything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have no complaints to make,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin smiled. &ldquo;She is a very
+clever and delightful child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg&nbsp;128]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Delightful? Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We find her so. Affectionate, easily managed, full of life, and a
+natural leader.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How Isabelle must have changed!&rdquo; said Wally, soulfully.</p>
+
+<p>When at a summons from Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin the girl came into the room, he saw
+that she had changed. She electrified the room with her health and
+vitality.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally!&rdquo; she exclaimed, and suddenly went white to the lips.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hello, Isabelle; thought I&rsquo;d have a look at you, in passing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her cold cheek awkwardly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t seem very pleased to see me,&rdquo; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but I am, Wally; I am,&rdquo; she said, with an anxious eye on the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thou may&rsquo;st have a holiday, Isabelle, to visit with thy father. We&rsquo;d be
+glad to have thee spend the night, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just here for a few hours, thanks. Thought I&rsquo;d look in on the kid. Very
+kind of you, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin left them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, do me a favour,&rdquo; said Isabelle, breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So soon?&rdquo; he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take me off in the motor for the day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I want to see the school, and meet your pals, and get acquainted
+with the Benjamins.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Wally, it&rsquo;s just like any school, and I&rsquo;m shut up here all the
+time. I&rsquo;m just dying for a day in the country,&rdquo; she urged.
+&ldquo;<i>P-l-e-a-s-e</i> Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg&nbsp;129]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right, come on. You aren&rsquo;t taking me off for fear they&rsquo;ll give you
+away, are you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me away?&rdquo;&mdash;anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin says you&rsquo;re a prize pupil, but they can&rsquo;t get away with
+that, Isabelle; I know you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, you don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m all new.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She slipped her arm through his and urged him forth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, Wally, be a dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So she managed to get him in the car and away from the house before the
+school trooped in. She had no plan beyond that, but she knew that she
+must never let Wally go back to that school. She looked at his little
+wizened face, muffled up in his coat collar, and his little pinched
+hands on the wheel. No; only over her dead body should the girls see
+Wally!</p>
+
+<p>She set herself to his entertainment, and got him into a good humour in
+no time. He roared at her stories, her comments on the girls. He noted
+her fine colour.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re getting handsome, Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beauty is but skin deep. I rely on my line of talk,&rdquo; she replied, and
+joined in his laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, why did you railroad me out of that school so fast?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought it would be nicer to have you all to myself,&rdquo; she replied,
+innocently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, Isabelle, what are you up to?&rdquo; her father demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, Wally&mdash;honest. I&rsquo;m a reformed character.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She induced him to take her to lunch at The Gay Dog Inn, and they were
+very merry over the meal.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg&nbsp;130]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I quite like you, Isabelle,&rdquo; said Wally. &ldquo;You used to embarrass me to
+death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always rather liked you, Wally,&rdquo; she retorted, to their mutual
+amusement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See here, I must be getting on, if I&rsquo;m to make Boston for dinner,&rdquo; he
+said, consulting his watch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t take me clear up to the school. You may drop me at what we
+call the cross roads.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;ll get you back,&rdquo; he protested.</p>
+
+<p>From the moment they were headed for the school she talked feverishly,
+and thought wildly. How could she keep him from going to Hill Top? They
+had some trouble with the engine and while Wally tinkered with it, she
+sat with her eyes screwed shut, praying that something would happen to
+save her face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No extra tires and a balky engine. I&rsquo;ll bounce that mechanic when I get
+back,&rdquo; he grumbled, as they started off again.</p>
+
+<p>The short spring day was beginning to fade, when Isabelle laid her hand
+on his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is the cross roads. I get out here,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll run you up,&rdquo; he answered, casually.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;d rather walk, Wally. I need the exercise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As she was beginning to get out, he had to stop.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the plot?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No plot. You&rsquo;ll be terribly late now. It was <i>sweet</i> of you to come,
+Wally, and I&rsquo;m obliged for the party,&rdquo; she said, kissing him, and
+dismounting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, have you murdered anybody?&rdquo; he asked, gravely.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg&nbsp;131]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; she replied, equally gravely. Then with a wave and a shouted
+good-bye she ran up the hill, and disappeared into the underbrush.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m damned!&rdquo; grinned her father; and he turned back on his way to
+Boston.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle ran through the woods singing, whistling, praying. &ldquo;Good Lord,
+I thank thee,&rdquo; she said, repeatedly. &ldquo;You can rely on me not to lie
+again.&rdquo; Flushed and relieved from doom, happy as a cricket, she appeared
+at the school. She was greeted with howls of rage from the girls.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, you pig! To carry him off without letting us see him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did he look? Is he handsomer than ever?&rdquo; they chorused.</p>
+
+<p>But Isabelle escaped their catechism. She had been saved once, and she
+dared not tamper with fate again. At every thought of Wally, speeding
+back to Boston, she drew a deep sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>As they were all seated at supper Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin asked:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didst thou have a pleasant day with thy father, little girl?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ten pairs of envious eyes were upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfect,&rdquo; she sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sorry we could not keep him overnight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The maid entered to speak to Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, whereupon she rose and left
+the table. Isabelle was enlarging upon the delights of her holiday when
+her tongue suddenly clave to the roof of her mouth. She heard a voice
+saying:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Engine wouldn&rsquo;t work&mdash;tire punctured.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg&nbsp;132]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She prayed violently for a fatal stroke of lightning or paralysis, but
+in vain. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin entered, followed by an irritated dapper little
+man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Adam, my dear, we have a guest. This is Isabelle&rsquo;s father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A gasp went round the table&mdash;audible, visible. Never in his life had
+Wally Bryce made such a sensation. He stared at these girls who turned
+such strange looks upon him. As for Isabelle, at the moment she would
+not have hesitated at patricide, but that being out of the question, she
+burst into peal after peal of hysterical laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin were perfectly aghast at the behaviour of the
+school, and Wally remarked irritably,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shut up, Isabelle; shut up!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg&nbsp;133]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2>
+
+<p>That supper proved to be a most difficult meal! Usually when there were
+guests, the girls talked and behaved very prettily, but on this occasion
+they sat like silent, accusing ghosts, eating in unbroken stillness.
+Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin tried to lead them into conversation, but in vain. There
+were cross currents of feeling which she could not understand or cope
+with. Isabelle babbled on, with intermittent fits of hysterical
+laughter. Whenever she spoke, black looks were concentrated upon her;
+when Wally spoke, they were transferred to him. Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin
+did their best, but they were relieved when the ordeal was over and the
+girls went off to the study room.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle was excused, because of her guest. She was glad of every moment
+that postponed her hour of reckoning. Wally could be disposed of, but
+the girls must be met. The Benjamins had duties to attend to, so Wally
+and his daughter were left alone for a quarter of an hour, in the
+library.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; he burst out at her. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with those kids?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Matter?&rdquo;&mdash;innocently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They glared at me as if I had murdered their mothers! Do they always
+eat in dead silence like that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg&nbsp;134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Isabelle cast a glance over her shoulders to see that they were quite
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is what I tried to save you from,&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean that&rsquo;s why you bundled me off this morning, and barred me out
+this evening?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She nodded solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The machine balked, the tire blew out, I had to come back,&rdquo; he
+apologized. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with &rsquo;em anyhow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see we have a society for the Discouragement of Visiting Parents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the point?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see, we endure a great deal from our parents, at home, but here we
+are free. The minute they begin visiting us, the trouble begins. So when
+they come, we are pledged to act like this, and they never come again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nice hospitable lot of kids! And do the Benjamins stand for this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They don&rsquo;t know about it; it&rsquo;s a secret.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They can see, can&rsquo;t they? A blind man could have seen their outrageous
+manners,&rdquo; he remarked, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Parents have outrageous manners, too, you know, and we have to put up
+with them&rdquo;&mdash;calmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t swear, Wally; Quakers don&rsquo;t like it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never heard such nerve in my life! Lot of kids setting themselves
+up&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Try to put yourself in our place, Wally. When you were at school, did
+you long to have your mother visit you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg&nbsp;135]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was different&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, that was the same,&rdquo; she said, finally. &ldquo;I tried to save you, but
+you would come back. I&rsquo;ve enjoyed your visit very much, but it&rsquo;s against
+our rules to act kindly to visiting parents, and if I do I&rsquo;ll be
+expelled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you&rsquo;d like me to leave to-night?&rdquo;&mdash;sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, but get off as soon as you can in the morning, and let me manage
+things to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Benjamins joined them at this point, so conversation became general.
+Isabelle withdrew into her own mind, to think ahead how to avert the
+next crisis. When the girls came down for the hour of relaxation, there
+would be more embarrassment, unless she could manage. She strolled to
+the window and looked out.</p>
+
+<p>There was a brilliant full moon, showering its largesse over the hills.
+They looked so calm, so remote&mdash;why did humans introduce such problems
+into the scheme of things? questioned Isabelle precociously. But the
+view gave her an idea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;might we have a moonlight tramp and show my
+father some of our walks?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would thy father like that? We often go for a walk in the moonlight,
+Mr.&nbsp;Bryce. The girls like it before they go to bed. Would thee enjoy
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle fixed him with a stern eye, and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, yes, I think that would be nice,&rdquo; said Wally, who hated walking.</p>
+
+<p>When the girls came down they silently accepted the plan. They put on
+their sweaters and boots, as the spring
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg&nbsp;136]</a></span>
+
+was young and the ground soft. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin marvelled at their
+restraint, but laid it to their commendable desire to appear well before
+their guest. Two by two they marched dumbly behind the Benjamins and the
+Bryces. Up hill and down they went. Isabelle felt their eyes like
+javelins in her back, even while she kept up a lively stream of
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Girls, thee need not walk in line,&rdquo; protested Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin. &ldquo;Show thy
+father the sowing game, Isabelle. Lead the girls out. This is a game thy
+daughter invented, Mr.&nbsp;Bryce, and which we love to play.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle, thus adjured, stepped forth, swept the enemy with a glance and
+took command. It was really a sort of a dance, whirling and circling and
+sowing seed in pantomime. Usually it was a wild, laughing happy
+affair&mdash;with antics and pranks extemporaneously introduced&mdash;but to-night
+it was as forced and funereal as a chorus of grave diggers. Mr.&nbsp;Bryce
+murmured appreciation, Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin looked her question to her husband,
+who shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>After what seemed to Wally ages of torment and a hundred miles or so of
+action, they went back to the school and to bed. Reminded by Isabelle,
+he arranged for an early start, and then Wally&rsquo;s part in the episode was
+closed.</p>
+
+<p>But Isabelle&rsquo;s troubles had just begun. Peggy was in bed when she
+entered their room, and Isabelle was sure she was awake although her
+face was toward the wall, and no answer to questions passed her lips.
+Isabelle hurried to put out the light, but when she was in bed, whispers
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg&nbsp;137]</a></span>
+
+seemed to surround her, fingers to point at her, out of the dark. She
+turned the situation over and over in her mind. She had spared Wally the
+truth, but she herself must face it. Unless she could think of a way to
+explain her fairy stories to the girls, her position as leader in that
+school was lost. She invented this explanation and that, only to discard
+them. It seemed as if only her death could solve the problem, and she
+felt that to be extreme, in the circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>She turned and tossed and agonized for hours, to fall, finally, into a
+troubled sleep, beset by dreams of herself, as a sort of pariah,
+wandering through her school days, on the edge of things.</p>
+
+<p>The next day brought no soothing surprise. Cold nods of good-morning
+greeted her, groups of whispering critics edged away from her
+contaminating presence. Even Peggy, the faithful, had gone over to the
+enemy. The nervous strain of the day told on her, and when she made a
+bad mistake in a recitation the class tittered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, girls,&rdquo; said Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin in surprise, &ldquo;it is not courteous to
+laugh at a mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Evening brought Isabelle to a state of complete despair. The heavens had
+not opened to save her this time. She was to expiate in full.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Then
+she rose to new heights. She determined to make full confession and
+demand a public sentence. She would make herself suffer to the full
+extent.</p>
+
+<p>True to instinct, even in despair, she waited until the girls had
+gathered for recreation hour before bedtime. Then she rose up, and as it
+were, laid her head upon the block.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg&nbsp;138]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, I have to be punished,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hast thou, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want the girls to pronounce my sentence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin smiled at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope thy friends will temper justice with mercy, Isabelle,&rdquo; he
+remarked with the wrinkly smile threatening. &ldquo;What is thy crime?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s about my father,&rdquo; began the culprit.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, what about thy father?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girls eyed her hostilely, where she stood, by the fireplace,
+dominating the scene.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always loved beautiful people so&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&rdquo; she began intensely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is no sin,&rdquo; encouraged Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I admire big, handsome men&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One of the girls sniffed. This sound let loose the flow of Isabelle&rsquo;s
+histrionic remorse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you must listen to me,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;you cannot condemn me until I
+have told it all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is fair,&rdquo; said the calm voice of Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was always a disappointment to me that my father was so little and
+queer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Isabelle,&rdquo; interrupted Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, I have to say what I think or it isn&rsquo;t a true story. Wally is
+much the nicest person in our family, but somehow he never seemed to
+count with anybody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This daring focussed their attention. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin shook her head at
+her husband, who was about to interrupt this performance.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg&nbsp;139]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wanted a big kind of father, who blustered at you and made you feel
+respectful. I wanted him to have adventures, like Don Quixote, and make
+you thrilly all up and down your spine!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didst thou want him to wear a sword and scabbard?&rdquo; interrupted Mr.
+Benjamin, who disapproved of these heroics. But Isabelle was warmed to
+her subject now, and she did not hear him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Imagine what it meant to me to want that kind of a father, and to get
+Wally! You all know how I felt. It was just what you felt last night
+when you saw him first,&rdquo; she accused them. &ldquo;When I was a lonely little
+girl I used to make up stories about the kind of parent I wanted. The
+made-up one got all mixed up with the real one. So when Peggy asked me
+if my father was handsome, I didn&rsquo;t stop to think which one she meant, I
+just said yes because the make-believe one was awf&rsquo;ly good looking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you only have one father, Isabelle,&rdquo; Peggy defended herself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know I really have only one, but don&rsquo;t you see, I didn&rsquo;t <i>mean</i> to
+tell a lie, even if it did turn out to be one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did thee tell, Isabelle?&rdquo; inquired Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I told Peggy that my father was handsome, meaning my make-believe one.
+The girls asked me about him, and I told them a lot of stories about
+him. They were always asking me to tell more.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg&nbsp;140]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;They were all about rescuing beautiful girls, and catching burglars,
+and saving children. You ought to have heard what she told us about
+him!&rdquo; exclaimed Agnes Pollock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Isabelle!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But they were true! They did happen to the other one!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t any other one!&rdquo; retorted Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, there is. I believe in him, and so do you, every one of you!&rdquo;
+countered Isabelle. &ldquo;He was just as real as Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin. You said so
+yourselves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he&rsquo;s only made up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, can&rsquo;t you see that the things you make up are lots realer than the
+things that are?&rdquo; cried Isabelle with such conviction that they were all
+silenced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The matter comes to this, doesn&rsquo;t it? Isabelle, not intending to lie,
+misled all of ye about her father,&rdquo; said Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and we adored him so! When that little wizened man came in, we
+almost died!&rdquo; blurted out Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>The light broke upon the Benjamins, but they tried not to smile at each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle&rsquo;s imagination can prove a gift or a curse,&rdquo; Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin
+continued. &ldquo;Its possession lays a great obligation upon her. If it is
+used to mislead, or to obscure the truth, it is a dangerous power.
+Whatever the extenuating circumstances, it comes to this, that Isabelle
+lied to her friends. Ph&oelig;be, what does thee think about this
+situation?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg&nbsp;141]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think thee is right in saying that this is a very serious matter. I
+agree with Isabelle, that she should be punished, if only to remind her
+that such misuse of a talent is a very ugly thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been punished by the way the girls have treated me! I am
+punished when Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin says I have told a lie! But I want you to do
+something to hurt me! I wish Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin would beat me, or put me on
+bread and water. I hate myself. I&rsquo;m just a common, mean liar! Whatever
+you decide to do to me is all right, and I deserve it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As she denounced herself, she fairly glowed with indignation; she was
+radiant with humility. The girls were hypnotized by her!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think Isabelle should miss the recreation hour for a month,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>The girls gasped, for this was the extreme penalty, but Isabelle never
+flinched.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will, Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin. I&rsquo;ll go to bed alone, in the dark, for a month
+and pray the Lord not to let me be a liar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think thee must not rely too much upon divine power, Isabelle. Set a
+watch upon thy tongue thyself,&rdquo; he said&mdash;very severely for the gentle
+Adam. &ldquo;Thee may go to bed now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Condemned, abased, like a prisoner en route to the gallows, Isabelle
+walked from among them. She was disgraced, but, Isabelle-like, she wore
+her shame like a rose in her hair!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg&nbsp;142]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h2>
+
+<p>Isabelle was not forced to abrogate her reign, after all. Somehow her
+cleverness and her oddity always kept the spotlight focussed upon her.
+Needless to state Wally did not repeat his visit, and the spring term
+came to its end.</p>
+
+<p>With its expiration came a letter from Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce asking whether the
+Benjamins would keep Isabelle at Hill Top until the end of August, as
+the Bryces were going to Europe and did not wish to take her with them.
+It never occurred to Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce to consult the girl&rsquo;s pleasure in the
+matter, but Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin carried the letter to her at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would thee like to stay, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Like it? I&rsquo;d adore it!&rdquo; cried that young person, with the explosive
+over-emphasis of youth.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin smiled and patted her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We would like it, too. I will write thy mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So it was arranged, and Isabelle stayed on. Two other girls were to
+remain also. By special petition to Wally Isabelle was permitted to have
+the Peruvian horse to spend the summer with her.</p>
+
+<p>It was a never-to-be-forgotten holiday for those three girls. They took
+part in all the activities of the farm. They picked fruit and helped
+Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin and the cook
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg&nbsp;143]</a></span>
+
+to can the big supplies of jam and jelly for the school. They helped in
+the garden with the vegetables or worked and weeded Mrs.
+Benjamin&rsquo;s beloved flowers. They pitched hay, they drove the rake
+and the grass cutter. They were busy in the open from morning until
+night and as happy as field larks.</p>
+
+<p>Lessons had stopped, but education went on. They read aloud with Mrs.
+Benjamin; they studied and learned, first hand, of Nature&rsquo;s prodigality
+or niggardliness. Always there was the cultivation of the spirit. Love
+and fair dealing made the foundation upon which these simple Quaker folk
+had builded their lives, and no one could live in the home of their
+making without feeling that these were as essential to life as
+breathing.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle had long, wild gallops over the hills on her horse, during
+which she pondered &ldquo;the long, long thoughts of youth&rdquo; and brought the
+resulting problems to Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin in the weekly letters, or in some of
+their intimate talks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is hard to believe that this is the freakish sullen child who came
+to us less than a year ago,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin commented as the girls went
+off to bed one night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it is wonderful. Thou hast made a new being of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thou hast done it as much as I have. It is evidently her first
+experience of being understood and loved.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What strange excrescences do grow up on our so-called civilization,&rdquo; he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is thee calling the rich an excrescence?&rdquo; she smiled.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg&nbsp;144]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know that they are just human beings like ourselves, but how do they
+get things so awry? They put such a slight upon parenthood, with their
+servant-made children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, and he went on developing his thought.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is ominous when the basic relationships are so abused&mdash;marriage held
+so lightly, children disdaining their own parents, as our Isabelle does.
+Where is it leading us, Ph&oelig;be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear knows&mdash;dear knows!&rdquo; she sighed, shaking her head.</p>
+
+<p>It was a well-worn theme with them. They had to ponder deeply these
+tendencies, for it was their work to try to counteract these destructive
+forces&mdash;to build up in the hearts of these servant-made children, as Mr.
+Benjamin called them, a respect for God and man and the holy things that
+grow out of their relationship.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>The summer passed almost without event. The three girls, hard and brown
+as Indians, were beginning to plan for the fall, when the others would
+return.</p>
+
+<p>It was in early September that the blow fell upon Isabelle. A telegram
+from Wally had appraised his daughter of their arrival in New York. They
+were to spend the fall at the Club house near The Beeches. He hoped she
+was well. Did she want him to come and see her?</p>
+
+<p>She answered this briefly, also a note from her mother. As Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce
+rarely troubled to write letters to any one, Isabelle pondered the
+reason for this amiable epistle. It was soon to be explained. Mrs.
+Benjamin received a letter from Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce saying that notification had
+arrived
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg&nbsp;145]</a></span>
+
+that Isabelle would be admitted this October to Miss Vantine&rsquo;s
+Finishing School, where her name had been entered for years. She wished
+the girl sent directly to this address in New York on the last day of
+September, as she was to board at the school for the present until it
+was decided whether the Bryces would open their town house.</p>
+
+<p>Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin shook his head sadly over this letter, and carried it to
+his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Adam&mdash;Adam, we cannot let her go to <i>that</i> school! It will be her
+ruination,&rdquo; she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, it is the most fashionable school in New York,&rdquo; he replied,
+with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is shoddy, and artificial and false!&rdquo; she protested in unwonted
+heat. &ldquo;My poor, dear Isabelle! Adam, couldn&rsquo;t we make a plea for
+her?&mdash;tell her mother how she improves here, how fast she progresses?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ph&oelig;be dear, dost thou think that that would interest this lady?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But we can&rsquo;t let her go without one effort to save her. I think it is
+as serious as that, at this stage of the girl&rsquo;s development.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose thee writes a letter to Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will. Let us not speak of it to Isabelle until I have her mother&rsquo;s
+answer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, dear heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin wrote and re-wrote the letter. Finally one was despatched
+and she anxiously awaited the reply. It was long in coming, and it fell
+like a blow on her heart. Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce was glad to have such a good report
+of Isabelle,
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg&nbsp;146]</a></span>
+
+but her plan had always been that the girl should spend, at Miss
+Vantine&rsquo;s school, the two years previous to her d&eacute;but, as
+she herself had done. All the girls of her daughter&rsquo;s set went
+there, and she wished Isabelle to be with them. Thanking Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin
+for her interest, etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p>The Benjamins had a conference of disappointment over it, and it was
+decided that Isabelle must be told. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s face was so rueful
+over it that her husband offered to do the telling. He and Isabelle were
+going off on an expedition together, which would give him an
+opportunity, and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin could provide the comfort that must
+follow.</p>
+
+<p>He found it no easy task. As he looked at his sturdy young companion,
+listened to her picturesque talk, he felt that he was called upon to
+tell a young vestal virgin that she was to be sacrificed to the god of
+mammon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is good air, isn&rsquo;t it!&rdquo; she said, breathing deeply. &ldquo;How do people
+live in cities, do you suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin longed to shirk, but he took himself in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have had a letter from thy mother, Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at him suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does she want?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She wants thee to go to a school in New York this winter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stopped and faced him in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To leave Hill Top?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid so, little sister.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg&nbsp;147]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I won&rsquo;t! I won&rsquo;t go away from here. I love it here, I love you and
+Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin. Oh, why does Max always interfere with me? I hate her!&rdquo;
+she cried, passionately.</p>
+
+<p>Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, and walked beside
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I understand what a blow this is to thee, and how unhappy it makes
+thee. But one of the things that we want our girls to learn is to honour
+and respect their parents,&rdquo; he said gently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how can I respect Max, Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin? She never respects me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He saw the justice of her remark and strove not to play the moralist.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thee can put a curb on thy lips, my dear. I wish that thee might show
+Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin and me that thy life here with us has meant something to
+thee, by obeying thy mother as cheerfully and willingly as thee can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He felt the young body under his hand shudder with the effort for
+control. She lifted stricken eyes to him, as he said afterward, and
+nodded without a word. He helped her as well as he could, by talking of
+other things, but he felt her suffering as keenly as if it had been his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>When they came back to the house, she went to her room, and he carried
+the report to his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sorrow goes so deep with them, at this age,&rdquo; he said, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor, passionate child; she will always be torn by life,&rdquo; sighed Mrs.
+Benjamin. &ldquo;I will not go to her yet. I&rsquo;ll let her try solitude first.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She did not appear at lunch, so Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin carried a tray to her. The
+girl was not crying, she was sitting by
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg&nbsp;148]</a></span>
+
+the window, looking out over the hills, in a sort of dumb agony.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want thee to eat some lunch, my Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A white face turned toward her. The very sun-brown seemed to have been
+seared off by suffering.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t eat, dear Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking that we might make a plan, dear,&rdquo; the older woman
+said, setting the tray aside and dismissing it. She drew a chair beside
+the girl and took her cold hands. &ldquo;Thou wilt go to this school, as thy
+mother wishes, but when thou hast finished&mdash;it is only two years&mdash;if
+thee thinks the kind of life thy mother plans for thee too uncongenial,
+thee must come back to us, and help us with the school. There will
+always be a place for thee here, my child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But two years in that loathsome school!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thee dost not know that it&rsquo;s loathsome. I&rsquo;ve no doubt that if thee will
+take the right spirit with thee, it may be very good for thee. There are
+opportunities in that great city which Hill Top cannot offer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there won&rsquo;t be any Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin! Oh, Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, why
+couldn&rsquo;t you have been my mother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should have been proud to be, Isabelle,&rdquo; she answered simply. &ldquo;Thou
+art as dear to me as a daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle bent and kissed the kind hands that held her own, but she shed
+no tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We all have bitter, disappointing things to meet. I shall expect my
+daughter to meet them with a fine courage,&rdquo; she smiled.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg&nbsp;149]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try,&rdquo; said Isabelle; &ldquo;but I&rsquo;d rather die than leave here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thee has met life very squarely, so far as I have known thee. This is a
+test of thy quality, and I know thee will meet it like my true
+daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girl&rsquo;s eyes brimmed at that, but she looked off over the hills and
+merely nodded. Presently she rose and leaned her cheek for a second
+against Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right, mother Benjamin,&rdquo; she said, with the old ring in her
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>The subject was not mentioned again. Save for a somewhat closer
+affection, a tenderer devotion on Isabelle&rsquo;s part, no one would have
+known that they were facing a separation, which was an agony of dread to
+the girl. As Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin had said, of his wisdom: &ldquo;Sorrow strikes so
+deep at that age.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took her part in the duties and pleasures of the days. But the
+Benjamins&rsquo; loving eyes marked a change. She brought no yeoman&rsquo;s appetite
+to the table, she had to be urged to eat. The morning often brought her
+downstairs with dark circles about her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did thee sleep, dear child?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, thanks,&rdquo; was the invariable answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s getting all eyes again,&rdquo; grumbled Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin.</p>
+
+<p>Not until the very last day were the two other girls told of her coming
+departure. The last days were packed to the brim with duties, so that
+she might have no leisure to be sad. She put up a plucky fight; not a
+tear had she shed. But on the last day, when the clear bugle call
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg&nbsp;150]</a></span>
+
+roused her, she sprang from her bed, and ran to the window. Nature was
+at her painting again; splashes of red and yellow and russet brown
+streaked the hills. A sort of delicate mist enfolded them. Was it only a
+year ago that she had looked at these blessed hills for the first time?
+Again father Benjamin&rsquo;s salute to the day rang out. She leaned her
+head against the window, and her body shook with sobs, though no tears
+came.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr.&nbsp;Benjamin drove up to the door in the wide surrey behind the
+fat, dappled horses, she kissed the girls smilingly, she clung to Mrs.
+Benjamin for a long second, then she took her seat beside her friend.
+She looked up at them, in the doorway, waving their good-byes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I didn&rsquo;t know that I was coming back in two years to stay, I
+couldn&rsquo;t bear it, mother Benjamin,&rdquo; she called back. Then the fat horses
+started off briskly, down the road.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg&nbsp;151]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h2>
+
+<p>Miss Vantine&rsquo;s School for Girls was probably no better and no worse than
+schools of its kind. It bestowed a superficial training upon its pupils,
+with an accent upon the social graces. Its graduates were always easily
+identified by their English a&rsquo;s, their good diction, their charming
+manners, and their intensely conventional point of view. Any departure
+from the Vantine &ldquo;norm&rdquo; in the way of investigation or conclusion was
+discouraged as not nice.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vantine truly believed in herself as an educator and since her
+school had held its prestige for thirty years, she had reason to think
+that other people agreed with her. Her mark on a girl was absolutely
+guaranteed.</p>
+
+<p>Into this conventional atmosphere Isabelle came from the simple,
+friendly life of Hill Top; and she found it hateful. It was the spirit
+rather than the letter which had prevailed in the Benjamin school, but
+here only the letter counted. The outward forms, correct manners, were
+emphasized every day; but in the process, the courteous heart was
+neglected and left out.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg&nbsp;152]</a></span></p>
+<p>The teachers were the custodians of information, and of the law. They
+bore a perfectly formal relationship to the pupils. Education consisted
+in pouring facts into the upturned cups&mdash;the minds of the pupils. When
+Isabelle began to question, to dig deeper into the root of things, the
+why of things&mdash;if instead of the usual &ldquo;Yes, Miss Vantine,&rdquo; or &ldquo;No, Miss
+Vantine,&rdquo; she demanded basic reasons&mdash;the explanation was always
+repeated, patiently in the same words, and the lesson went on.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle&rsquo;s &ldquo;rough ways&rdquo; were deplored, and she was reproved every hour
+in the day. Restraints were imposed on her mind and her body. She was
+like a healthy, curious young animal, all tied with bonds that she could
+neither loose nor fight.</p>
+
+<p>As for the girls, there were some old acquaintances among them&mdash;Margie
+Hunter for one. But their talk was of boys, of beaux, and for ever of
+males! They spent hours conversing about their clothes, or commenting on
+the manners of their parents and the morals of their parents&rsquo; friends.
+They were deeply interested in the discussion of sex, and there were
+some phases of the subject dwelt upon which would have sent Miss Vantine
+down to her grave with the shock, could she have heard their talk.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Benjamins had handled the subject of sex hygiene in their school
+as a vitally important subject. The girls had been led through the study
+of botany and zoology, to procreation and the sex relation in human
+society. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin had talked the matter out with her girls with
+fearless frankness. She had encouraged their questions, she had touched
+on the pathology of sex, and she had made for them a high ideal of
+motherhood.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle realized that the talk of these girls was false and ugly. She
+said so; and the result was that she was excluded from the intimacy of
+the leading group. In her
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg&nbsp;153]</a></span>
+
+letters to Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin she poured out her whole heart. Protest,
+misery, loneliness; Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin sensed them all in the poignant
+letters the girl sent her. She replied with long, intimate chapters of
+encouragement and understanding. It was her counsel which kept Isabelle
+going the first six months of this experience.</p>
+
+<p>She tried with all her might to carry into her daily life the ideals
+taught and lived at Hill Top. But she seemed to be speaking a language
+that nobody understood. Her teachers bored her. She found she could keep
+ahead in her classes with only the most perfunctory study, so the ideal
+of a high standard for work was the first to go. What was the use? There
+was not enough to occupy her, so the old restlessness came upon her,
+with mischievous uses for her excess vitality. She gained a reputation
+as a law breaker, and she was watched and punished with increasing
+frequency. Her old leadership in misbehaviour was once more established.
+The precocious cynicism of her associates began to impress her as
+clever. She outdid them at it. Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s friendship was her only
+hope of salvation now. And then, in January, after a brief spell of
+pneumonia, dear Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin left the world she had so graced, leaving
+an aching vacancy behind for her husband and her friends.</p>
+
+<p>To Isabelle it came as her first real sorrow. For weeks after, the girl
+retired into herself as into a locked room. She could not eat; she did
+not sleep; she grew thin, and haggard, and pale. Worse than that; in her
+rebellion at this loss, she grew bitter. She threw this suffering at the
+feet of God with a threat. She felt herself the victim of
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg&nbsp;154]</a></span>
+
+eternal injustice. Just as she achieved happiness, or friendship, it was
+always snatched from her. Always, before, Max had cheated her of things;
+now it was God.</p>
+
+<p>She came out of it the Isabelle of her early childhood&mdash;<i>r&eacute;volt&eacute;e</i>,
+enemy to authority, defier of God and the universe. Her wit against them
+all. She would take what she wanted now, and let them look out for her!</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>From that time on, she was the acknowledged school &ldquo;terror.&rdquo; She put her
+entire mind upon misbehaving, and she was as ingenious as a monkey.
+Never a week passed that she was not shut up for an hour in the library
+with Miss Vantine, who always felt, poor lady, that she was dealing with
+a manifestation of the devil.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you, or did you not throw an electric lamp on the floor during the
+algebra lesson, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <i>dropped</i> one on the floor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t equivocate! You <i>threw</i> it&rdquo;&mdash;sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right; I threw it&rdquo;&mdash;defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why did you do it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To wake up the class. If you knew how dull that hour is you wouldn&rsquo;t
+blame me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be impertinent!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Marshall is a fool. If you ask her a question outside the lesson
+she has to look it up in the book.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are not here to criticize your teachers, you are here to account
+for your misbehaviour.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg&nbsp;155]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am telling you why I misbehave. I can&rsquo;t listen to her. Nobody does.
+She sets us all wild. Everybody was half asleep so I bounced the lamp on
+the floor. She ought to have been grateful to me for getting their
+attention.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is the second time this week that you have been reported for
+insubordination. This conduct cannot continue. I am writing your parents
+to-day that unless you mend your ways, they must take you away from
+here. You are contaminating the entire school.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They can&rsquo;t take me away too quickly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vantine thought best to ignore this impertinence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will take twenty demerits, and miss your walk in the park for a
+week. You may go now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girl sauntered insolently out of the room, leaving Miss Vantine
+white with rage. She wrote a very firm letter to Mrs.&nbsp;Walter Bryce, who
+in turn wrote a denunciatory letter to her daughter, and there the
+matter rested.</p>
+
+<p>One disgrace followed another, and finally the school year dragged to a
+close. Isabelle went to The Beeches for the summer. There were four
+months of war to the knife with her mother, the usual number of scrapes,
+and a violent love affair with Herbert Hunter, home from St. George&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What became of your reformed character?&rdquo; inquired Wally one day. &ldquo;I
+thought the Benjamins had made a human being of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They nearly did. But Max dragged me off and sent me to that fool
+Vantine, and I got over being human. What&rsquo;s the use?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Bryces were glad when fall came and she was sent back to the school.
+As for Isabelle she did not much care where she went. There was a
+certain satisfaction&mdash;an <i>esprit de diablerie</i>&mdash;which amused her. Sharp
+of tongue
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg&nbsp;156]</a></span>
+
+and of wit, she knew she had a real gift for making herself a nuisance,
+and she took pride in it.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vantine warned her at the beginning of the term that she was a
+marked character, and that unless she behaved herself she could not
+stay. She tempered her behaviour somewhat during the first term, but it
+was no use. Like every dog with a bad name, all the mischief in the
+school was attributed to her. According to schoolgirl canons of loyalty
+it was an unforgivable sin to tell tales or &ldquo;give people away,&rdquo; so
+Isabelle shouldered the iniquity of the whole school. The teachers hated
+and feared her.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vantine bore with her like a martyr&mdash;for two reasons. One was that
+she liked Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, who had been her pupil; and the other was that she
+had never yet expelled a girl, and she disliked the idea intensely.</p>
+
+<p>But there came a day in early February of Isabelle&rsquo;s second year of
+residence when the end was reached. Herbert Hunter had smuggled a note
+to her that he was coming to New York to have his tonsils out and he
+wanted to see her before he went to the hospital. She answered by
+special delivery and agreed to meet him on Sunday, in the Park. When the
+girls were entering church on that day, Isabelle was taken with a
+violent fit of coughing, and was left in the vestibule to quiet herself.
+She fled to her tryst. But she miscalculated the length of the sermon,
+and met the school coming out, on the church steps. She was questioned,
+led home in disgrace. She was accused of truancy; she admitted it, even
+confessed her rendezvous in the Park.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg&nbsp;157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Miss Vantine had to act this time. She sent a final letter to the
+Bryces with a sentence of suspension for their daughter, who was packed
+off home at once, in disgrace. Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce was furious because she and
+Wally were going off with the Abercrombie Brendons on their yacht. She
+explained their dilemma to their hostess and she was decent enough to
+include the girl, but it was a nuisance to have her along.</p>
+
+<p>No time was lost in letting Isabelle feel her disgrace. After a
+perfunctory greeting, her mother remarked:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve made a nice record for yourself, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you answer me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Foolish question, Number One. Yes, I have made a nice record for
+myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you make yourself a nuisance around here, I shall find a way to
+punish you,&rdquo; she threatened her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go ahead. Get it all off your chest at once and then drop it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce decided upon injured dignity, as her best r&ocirc;le.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Wally?&rdquo; demanded Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s doing around here? I expect to enjoy myself on this little
+vacation. I hope you don&rsquo;t intend to be too disagreeable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Later at dinner Wally remarked to his wife&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell her about the trip?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What trip?&rdquo; demanded their daughter.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg&nbsp;158]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are going off on the Abercrombie Brendons&rsquo; yacht, and your
+unfortunate return has forced Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon to include you in the party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you said &lsquo;No, thanks&rsquo; for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We said &lsquo;yes&rsquo; for you,&rdquo; replied Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I won&rsquo;t go. Shut up on a boat with you two and the Brendons? Not
+much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not being consulted,&rdquo; remarked her mother, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to drag me aboard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s temper flared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will walk aboard and you will behave like a decent individual while
+we are on this cruise, or there will be the most serious consequences
+you have ever met yet. Nobody wants you on this party, you understand,
+and the less conspicuous you make yourself, the better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle beamed upon them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you so much for your charming invitation, my dear, doting
+parents. I accept with pleasure, and I think I can promise you that your
+little outing will be a complete success, so far as I am concerned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed lightly, and Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce exchanged uneasy glances.
+Something in that laugh did not promise well for their holiday.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg&nbsp;159]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h2>
+
+<p>The motor boat from the <i>Empress</i> was at the pier when the three Bryces
+made their appearance on the day of the departure. They were taken out
+to the yacht at once, where Mr.&nbsp;Abercrombie Brendon was already
+ensconced. He was a pompous, red-faced little man, with a great deal of
+stomach and a great deal of manner. He was in high good humour with the
+weather and the world in general. He greeted Isabelle by singing, a line
+from a light opera success of his younger days&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabella, Isabella, the love-e-ly queen of Spain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Silly ass!&rdquo; said she to herself, and she went to lean over the rail and
+watch for the coming of the others. They arrived shortly and she took
+inventory. First Mrs.&nbsp;Abercrombie Brendon ascended the steps. She was a
+big, arrogant, impressive woman whom Isabelle immediately named
+&ldquo;Hecuba.&rdquo; She was followed by a lovely, blonde creature, with deep-blue
+eyes and a short upper lip.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle fixed her attention upon the last comer, who certainly was an
+attention-fixing young man. He was extremely handsome. Here was the one
+and only hope of this party, so far as she was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>There was a great clatter of greetings.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg&nbsp;160]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come here, Isabelle, and make your manners,&rdquo; ordered her mother. She
+obeyed, reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So glad to have a young thing with us, my dear,&rdquo; boomed Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon in
+her big voice. &ldquo;Althea, this is Isabelle Bryce. Miss Morton, Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The lovely vision smiled faintly and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is Mr.&nbsp;Jerry Paxton,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon continued.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle shot a glance at him, but he failed to get it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you do?&rdquo; he said, absently, turning to help Althea adjust her
+veil.</p>
+
+<p>There followed the ceremony of apportioning the staterooms, getting into
+deck hats, and the other preliminaries, while the boat was steaming down
+the harbour. Isabelle stayed on deck and made friends with the captain
+and the sailors. It was fun to watch them padding about so swiftly,
+coiling ropes, and doing their tasks so featly.</p>
+
+<p>The first few days were clear and beautiful. They spent the time on
+deck. Isabelle appraised the situation the first day out. Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon
+intended that the handsome Paxton man should be permanently annexed to
+the blonde beauty, who entirely concurred in the idea. The Paxton man
+was not yet entirely won over to the plan; therefore, he was restless
+and on his guard. Max flirted with old Brendon, and Wally was at loose
+ends. He occasionally donated his society to his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll make a bet with you, Wally, that Madame Hecuba Brendon won&rsquo;t put
+it through.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put what through?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marry Jerry Paxton to the lady with the short lip.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally laughed.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg&nbsp;161]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t miss anything, do you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re too young to notice such things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord! but parents are a bore!&rdquo; quoth Isabelle at that.</p>
+
+<p>For the most part she kept out of their way those first days. Max
+noticed it, and warned Wally that she was probably cooking up some
+mischief to explode on them.</p>
+
+<p>It would have surprised them could they have peeped into the girl&rsquo;s
+mind. She liked being alone, being still. There had been considerable
+strain to keeping up a reputation as a school terror. It had meant being
+constantly on the alert for an opportunity to misbehave; it meant
+thinking up plots, living up to an exacting standard of wickedness. The
+reaction had come with these idle days and she enjoyed it.</p>
+
+<p>Then, too, she loved the vastness of the sea and the sky, between which
+they made their way. She sat for hours watching white gulls that
+followed in their wake. She wondered if they were not the souls of the
+departed, and she conceived one friendly one, which flew quite near them
+for days, to be the soul of Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin. Sometimes when she was sure
+that no one was near she stood in the stern and called out to it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, I know you&rsquo;re there. Don&rsquo;t leave me, will you? I
+love so to watch you circling up there. Is it nice in Heaven?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She pondered about death a good deal, and about heaven. She had not been
+able to bear such thoughts since Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin died, so bitter had been
+her grief.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg&nbsp;162]</a></span>
+
+But there was soothing in the silent vastness, and she came to think of
+heaven as a sublimated Hill Top with Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin still teaching the
+young.</p>
+
+<p>She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together. She noted the way
+she looked at him&mdash;the half-playful wholly tender way she appropriated
+him. It led the girl to ponder upon love also. Here were two beautiful
+people who, according to all the rules of play and story, should be
+making love every minute, in this paradise. Why did the beautiful young
+man hesitate?</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter w600"><a href="images/i171.jpg">
+<img class="noborder" src="images/i171b.jpg" alt="She watched Jerry and Althea
+pacing the deck together.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. It led the girl to ponder upon
+love also" title="She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck
+together.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. It led the girl to ponder upon love also" /></a>
+<span class="caption"><i>She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck
+together.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. It led the girl to ponder upon love also</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>She decided to interview Althea and see what sort of creature she might
+be. It was not so simple, because Althea was barely aware of Isabelle&rsquo;s
+existence, also she was never without Jerry at her side, if either she
+or Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon could manage it. But there came a chance, when she was
+alone on deck, and Isabelle hastily took the vacated seat beside her.
+Althea glanced at her, faintly surprised.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you having a good time on this cruise?&rdquo; Isabelle opened fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes&mdash;very. Aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not especially. But then I haven&rsquo;t any handsome young man to play
+with.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Althea frowned and made her first mistake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re quite too young for any such ideas,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m out of the cradle, you know!&rdquo;&mdash;hotly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m old enough to know that
+I could handle a handsome young man better than you do, for all your
+age.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you&rsquo;re extremely impertinent!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg&nbsp;163]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to make a friend of me. I can tell you a thing or two. For
+one thing, he&rsquo;s too sure of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Althea rose, white with fury.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall certainly report this impudence to your mother,&rdquo; she said,
+haughtily, moving away. But Isabelle fired the last shot.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Max will agree with me. You ought to watch her. She&rsquo;s got some
+technique herself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After that encounter Althea looked over and through Isabelle, as if she
+were thin air. It amused the girl immensely, and in her wise head she
+made a fair judgment of Miss Morton&rsquo;s mind and disposition. She decided
+that she was entirely unworthy of the god-like Jerry, and she was glad
+he hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>She began to watch him with increased interest. She made romances about
+him, with herself as heroine. She played scenes in which she outwitted
+the haughty beauty, and fled with the hero. She began to pity Jerry. He
+was the unwilling victim of Althea and Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon. How could she,
+Isabelle Bryce, rescue him from their clutches?</p>
+
+<p>In the process of her dreaming she wrecked the yacht, Jerry saved her,
+and as soon as they reached shore they were married. In one version,
+Althea, seeing that he loved Isabelle, threw herself overboard and
+perished. There were many stories, but they always had one
+ending&mdash;Isabelle won and wed the handsome young man.</p>
+
+<p>One windy morning when the other &ldquo;stuffies&rdquo; (as she called them to
+herself) were playing bridge inside, Isabelle squatted on deck, her chin
+on her knees, watching the big breakers, listening to the scream of the
+petrels, and as
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg&nbsp;164]</a></span>
+
+usual building air castles about herself and Jerry, when lo! her hero
+came striding down the deck and all at once he stopped before
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hello! Aren&rsquo;t you afraid you&rsquo;ll blow overboard?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m not. You&rsquo;ve waked up, have you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have I been asleep?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t seen me before,&rdquo; she retorted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I see you now. Do you know what you look like?&rdquo; He smiled down at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I look like a ripe olive.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, you look like a cricket. Are you always so silent? Don&rsquo;t you ever
+chirp?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Me, silent? I&rsquo;ve given the Wallys the blow of their lives. They think
+I&rsquo;m sick, I&rsquo;ve been so good on this rotten cruise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What caused the reform&mdash;good company?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m getting ready to break it to them, that I may not be taken back
+at that school. I got into the devil of a row.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you? And they expelled you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suspended me, until they decide. That&rsquo;s why I had to come on this jolly
+party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t like it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, I don&rsquo;t like it. How&rsquo;d I know whether you&rsquo;d wake up or not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you want me to wake up?&rdquo; he asked, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, <i>oui</i>, aye, <i>ja</i>, yes, of course. You don&rsquo;t suppose I want to play
+with fat old Brendon, do you? Wally is a fearful bore, so there is only
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg&nbsp;165]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little cricket, she wanted a playmate,&rdquo; he teased.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She did. I can&rsquo;t rub my knees together and make a &lsquo;crick,&rsquo; you know, so
+I had to wait until you came to. I&rsquo;d have pushed you overboard if it
+hadn&rsquo;t happened to-day. I&rsquo;m so full of unused pep, I&rsquo;m ready to pop!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on. I&rsquo;m awake. Now what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s warm up,&rdquo; she said, and was up and off down the deck in one
+spring. Jerry pursued. She raced around the whole deck twice, then
+waited for him to catch up with her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Puffing, Jerry? You&rsquo;re getting fat,&rdquo; she jeered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You impudent little beggar, I&rsquo;d like to shake you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Try it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This might have been called Isabelle&rsquo;s entrance on the scene, because
+from that moment on, she took the stage and exerted herself to hold it.
+She tantalized Jerry every minute. She took all the privileges of
+youthful sixteen, and made frank, outspoken love to him. She never left
+him alone with Althea for a moment. She roused in the breast of that
+blonde young woman such a fierce hatred that murder would have been a
+mild expression of her desires.</p>
+
+<p>Even Mrs.&nbsp;Abercrombie Brendon took a hand, trying first hauteur and
+disapproval, descending finally to bribery and entreaty. Max and Wally
+laboured with their offspring. She only turned big eyes upon them and
+entreated them to tell her what displeased them. She was trying to be a
+credit to them, to save them all from complete dissolution through the
+boredom that had settled down upon them like a cloud.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You let Jerry Paxton alone,&rdquo; ordered her mother.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg&nbsp;166]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;But he adores me, and he is so bored.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Conceited jackanapes!&rdquo; said Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;d jump overboard if it wasn&rsquo;t for me. I&rsquo;m his only salvation from
+the wax doll.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally laughed and the fight was lost. Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon ordered the captain
+to Palm Beach at once, all steam on. As soon as they landed Jerry
+prepared for flight. He produced a fictitious telegram calling him at
+once to New York.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry, how can you leave me, in the house of the enemy?&rdquo; Isabelle
+demanded, when she got him alone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hard lines, kid, but I&rsquo;m off,&rdquo; he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you loved me you&rsquo;d take me too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re crazy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you like me crazy, Jerry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He grinned and made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>But Isabelle had seen a way. She asked Wally for some money to buy a
+souvenir. The treasure she bought was a ticket to New York on the night
+train. When she was ordered to bed because she was too young for hotel
+hops, she bade Jerry farewell, and went off without protest. From that
+moment on, she worked fast. She pinned a note to Max&rsquo;s pincushion, in
+the most approved fashion. She packed a bag, took a cab to the station,
+went to bed, and what is more, to sleep, in the calm satisfaction, that
+the story was to have a happy ending!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg&nbsp;167]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINETEEN" id="CHAPTER_NINETEEN"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h2>
+
+<p>The romantic adventure of running off with Jerry proved a dismal
+failure. She had failed to study the psychology of her <i>particeps
+criminis</i> in the fascination of analyzing her own. Far from being
+pleased with her company, he was greatly annoyed thereat. He wired her
+father the facts, begged him to follow to Jacksonville and take her off
+his hands. When Wally stepped from under, as it were, directing Jerry to
+hand the pest over to a teacher in New York, the young man&rsquo;s irritation
+became excessive and he was at no trouble to conceal it.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle confessed that she had informed her mother &ldquo;in a pin-cushion
+note&rdquo; that she had eloped with Jerry. She pointed out to him that, after
+this public announcement of her intentions, it would be necessary for
+him to marry her, &ldquo;to save her honour&rdquo; as she phrased it. He laughed,
+brutally. He inquired her age, and when she boasted that she was &ldquo;going
+on seventeen&rdquo;&mdash;that many girls were &ldquo;wooed and married and a&rsquo;,&rdquo; by that
+time&mdash;he laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>When, however, she persisted in the idea, and declared her love for him,
+he talked to her like a disagreeable elder brother, casting reflections
+upon her breeding and her manners. He told her that she was a silly
+little thing,
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg&nbsp;168]</a></span>
+
+that she did not amuse him in the least, and that it was high time she
+began to conduct herself like a lady. He began to address her, coldly,
+as Miss Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>She appealed to him, coquetted with him, abused him; all to no effect.
+He remained formal and distant during the entire journey. She was deeply
+hurt and humiliated by his actions, but on the whole she got
+considerable satisfaction out of the r&ocirc;le of blighted being.</p>
+
+<p>They both concentrated upon the end of the trip. Jerry longed to be rid
+of his unwelcome responsibility, and Isabelle was interested because she
+had arranged a coup for the moment.</p>
+
+<p>Wally had assured Jerry, by wire, that a teacher from the school would
+meet Isabelle at the station. Isabelle, in the meantime, had wired Miss
+Vantine that a change of plans made it unnecessary for the teacher to
+meet the train. She signed the telegram with her father&rsquo;s name. She
+awaited the moment when Jerry realized that he was not to be rid of her,
+with considerable excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived in New York at ten o&rsquo;clock, she preserved a demure silence while
+he stormed up and down the station looking for the teacher. He was
+finally convinced that there was no one to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you going to do with me?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come along,&rdquo; he replied, ungraciously, bundling her into a cab.</p>
+
+<p>They went to a studio building and Jerry pounded on somebody&rsquo;s door for
+ten minutes, in vain. Then he tried another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None of your friends care to see us, Jerry,&rdquo; grinned
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg&nbsp;169]</a></span>
+
+Isabelle. Finally he unlocked a door and turned on a light.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is your place, Jerry,&rdquo; she cried; and she began a swift
+inspection.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can turn in here for the night, and in the morning I will take you
+to the school.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where will you sleep?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At a club.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And leave me in this spooky place alone? I won&rsquo;t stay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you see that I cannot take you around town at this hour of the
+night looking for lodgings?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go in the bedroom, and you can sleep on the couch. I won&rsquo;t stay
+here alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Eventually he telephoned a friend of his, named Miss Jane Judd. He
+invited her to stay with Isabelle. He even went and brought her and
+explained to her that he would call for Isabelle in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jerry, don&rsquo;t leave me,&rdquo; cried Isabelle, clinging to him. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+want to stay with this strange woman. I want to go with you&mdash;always,
+Jerry&mdash;because I love you so. Won&rsquo;t you take me, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be a little goose, Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t hate me, Jerry,&rdquo; she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t hate you when you&rsquo;re sensible.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you call me Cr-Cricket, just once, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;ll be a good girl and go to bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Kiss me good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do nothing of the kind. Miss Judd, take charge of this crazy kid.
+I&rsquo;ll be back in the morning,&rdquo; he said, desperately, as he escaped.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg&nbsp;170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Isabelle wept, more from weariness and chagrin than anything else, but
+a sort of amused patience on Miss Judd&rsquo;s part caused her to cut short
+any histrionic display. As they prepared for bed she began to regale
+Miss Judd with spicy descriptions of the yachting party. Jane Judd
+laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re very naughty, but you are funny,&rdquo; she said to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose Mrs.&nbsp;Brendon and Althea think I&rsquo;m funny. Poor old
+baby-doll Althea! She must be furious. She was so sure of Jerry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You hop into bed and forget all about Altheas and Jerrys. Sleep is what
+you need,&rdquo; said Miss Judd, putting out the light.</p>
+
+<p>But the flow of Isabelle&rsquo;s talk was not to be stayed. She was excited
+and keyed up high. There was a simplicity and directness about this Judd
+woman that made her think of Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, so she told all about Hill
+Top and her life there, her love of it, her despair at Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin&rsquo;s
+death.</p>
+
+<p>Jane Judd listened with patience and understanding. Here was laid out
+before her the bared heart of the &ldquo;poor little rich girl.&rdquo; She pieced
+the bits together until she had the whole picture of this odd,
+unnatural, hothouse child&mdash;antagonistic to her parents, to her school,
+yet full of feeling, and coming into the age when the emotions play such
+havoc. No wonder she had settled her youthful affections upon Jerry. He
+was so pre&euml;minently the type one loves at sixteen, Jane smiled to
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think he will marry me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg&nbsp;171]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I doubt it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think he loves me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lots of other women are in love with Mr.&nbsp;Paxton, too,&rdquo; said Jane.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You just say that to scare me!&rdquo; cried Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>So the self-revelation of this young egotist went on and on until sleep
+laid a finger on her lips.</p>
+
+<p>Long after she was silent the older woman lay awake, and thought about
+her, about the conditions in our world that produced her. She was so
+sorry for the child, even while she laughed at the memory of Jerry&rsquo;s
+furious embarrassment, at the mercy of her jejune affections.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>Jerry arrived early, and Jane and Isabelle parted like old friends.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Judd is very understanding,&rdquo; remarked Isabelle, en route to the
+school.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, isn&rsquo;t she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s not at all snippy like so many people. It&rsquo;s ridiculous to act as
+if it were so clever just to be grown up. It isn&rsquo;t clever; it&rsquo;s only
+luck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The luck lies in being young, Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you even <i>remember</i> how you hated being squelched by elders?&rdquo; she
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do they ever squelch you, Cricket?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to know. You&rsquo;ve done enough of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s make a new compact. Let&rsquo;s be good pals,&rdquo; he said, heartily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not want your <i>friendship</i>,&rdquo; she answered, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O good Lord, you wretched baby!&rdquo;&mdash;irritably.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg&nbsp;172]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is all right, Jerry. I see that it can never be, but I shall always
+care for you deeply,&rdquo; she said with nobility.</p>
+
+<p>When they came to the school Jerry left her with a deep sigh of relief.
+She certainly was too much for him. He was no longer surprised that Max
+and Wally avoided the problem.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>There certainly was no fatted calf killed for the return of the prodigal
+in Miss Vantine&rsquo;s school. At her reappearance an air of chastened
+endurance settled upon all the teachers from Miss Vantine down to the
+elocution teacher. But their fears were doomed to disappointment,
+because Isabelle was for the time being absorbed in her unrequited love
+affair.</p>
+
+<p>She walked through her lessons like one in a trance; she devoted all her
+leisure, and some of her study hours, to a series of daily letters to
+the object of her passion. Most of these raptures were never to meet his
+eye, but they furnished an outlet for the girl&rsquo;s over-full heart, and to
+the psychologist they would have proved interesting. To her schoolmates
+she was, as ever, an enigma.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you, Isabelle? Trying to get one hundred in
+deportment?&rdquo; they teased her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have larger things to think of, than deportment,&rdquo; she answered,
+airily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s in love again,&rdquo; scoffed Margie Hunter.</p>
+
+<p>This was greeted with a deep sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is he, Isabelle?&rdquo; they demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is a great artist whose name is sacred to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg&nbsp;173]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Intimately.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And does he care for you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot betray his confidence&rdquo;&mdash;nobly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he handsome?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is wonderful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not so handsome as Shelley Hull, or Jack Barrymore,&rdquo; they protested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, heaps handsomer!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do have him come here. Couldn&rsquo;t we ask Miss Vantine to get him to
+lecture on art?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He hasn&rsquo;t time. He goes from function to function. Many women love him,
+he&rsquo;s a great social favourite,&rdquo; boasted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>This distinction set her apart as never before. She went among them as
+one baptized with greatness. When in the course of their daily walks
+with a teacher, they encountered a personable young man, Isabelle&rsquo;s eyes
+would never swerve in his direction. When there were midnight spreads,
+Isabelle did not care for food, or she had her letter to write.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, will you marry him as soon as you graduate from here?&rdquo; Margie
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no. I expect to spend years at work in the arts before I am worthy
+of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What arts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not decided. I may paint, or sing, or act.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you haven&rsquo;t any talent for painting or singing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You never can tell, Margie. I&rsquo;ve had no chance ta show what I can do.
+Besides, I <i>can</i> act.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg&nbsp;174]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you&rsquo;re too plain to go on the stage, myself,&rdquo; was the
+withering reply, but it did not wither Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beauty, my dear, is nothing; Art is everything,&rdquo; was her unassailable
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>So upon the wings of romance Isabelle floated through the spring term.
+She was to spend the summer at an inn in the mountains, as The Beeches
+was not to be opened. Her parents and teachers, encouraged by three
+months of good behaviour, believed that a permanent change of heart had
+taken place in the girl. On the day of her departure, Miss Vantine
+congratulated her upon her improvement, and alluded to the coming year
+as the crown of her achievements. Isabelle smiled politely, for she had
+thoroughly decided in her own mind that this was her farewell to school.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg&nbsp;175]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY</h2>
+
+<p>If Max and Wally had ever shown one grain of intelligence in regard to
+Isabelle they never would have taken her to this big, fashionable
+mountain inn where her field of adventure was so greatly enlarged. But
+they never had shown any discrimination in regard to her, so nothing
+could be expected of them at this stage.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle was a marked figure wherever she went now. She had forcibly
+taken over the matter of her own wardrobe in the spring of this year.
+Max had never made a success of it because she never gave any study to
+the girl&rsquo;s points; she dismissed her as plain, and bought her things
+with indifference.</p>
+
+<p>Now Isabelle had a flair for the odd, and she understood her own
+limitations and her own style. She was small, and slim as a reed,
+without being bony. She had what she called &ldquo;hair-coloured&rdquo; hair, and an
+odd face&mdash;wide between the eyes, but a perfect oval in shape. Her eyes
+were her only beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Fluffy, young-girl clothes merely accentuated her lack of youthful
+prettiness. With unerring instinct as a child, she had chosen her riding
+clothes to show off in. Now these same clothes formed the basis of her
+system. By day she was always in tailored frocks of the strictest
+simplicity. They were linen, or silk, or wool, made after
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg&nbsp;176]</a></span>
+
+the same model. Slim, tight skirt; slim, fitted coat; sailor hat, and
+strange boots, which she had made to order after her own design. They
+were like short riding boots, pulled on and crumpled over the instep
+like a glove. She was striking, <i>chic</i>, a personality.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove! Isabelle gets herself up smartly, Max,&rdquo; commented Wally, soon
+after their arrival at the inn. Their daughter walked toward them, with
+every eye on the long piazza following in her wake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is too <i>outr&eacute;e</i>, but it is effective. She knows everybody looks at
+her, she intends they shall, but look how the monkey carries it off,&rdquo;
+laughed Max, struck into a sort of admiration.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s doing with you to-day, my noble parents?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t know. What are <i>you</i> doing?&rdquo; Wally answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to ride. I can&rsquo;t stand this clack-clatter,&rdquo; she said,
+indicating the groups on the veranda. &ldquo;Dull lot, don&rsquo;t you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you met any one yet?&rdquo; inquired her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t have to. I know what they are by just looking at them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;L&rsquo;enfant prodige!&rdquo; jeered Max.</p>
+
+<p>A tall, very fine-looking man in riding togs passed them, with a swift
+look at Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s Cartel, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; Wally asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The actor man?&rdquo; said Max, looking after him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Actor-manager he calls himself now. Good-looking brute, isn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+answered Wally, idly.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle seemed oblivious to the whole incident but
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg&nbsp;177]</a></span>
+
+privately she marked Sidney Cartel as her own. She went off, shortly, to
+change.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you ride with her, Wally? She oughtn&rsquo;t to go off around these
+mountains alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Too hot. She can take care of herself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which way did Mr.&nbsp;Cartel go?&rdquo; Isabelle inquired of the stable groom who
+mounted her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sunrise Trail, Miss,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle started off for Sunrise Trail, with the directness of purpose
+which marked all her actions. It was some time before she caught sight
+of him, and to her annoyance she saw he was with a party of friends.
+Whenever the trail permitted he rode beside a certain woman&mdash;leaning
+toward her with marked devotion. Isabelle brought up the rear of the
+procession. The others became aware of her, evidently commented on her.
+Mr.&nbsp;Cartel looked back frequently.</p>
+
+<p>When Isabelle came to a place wide enough to turn she retraced her
+steps. She went back to the inn determined to discover who Mr.&nbsp;Cartel&rsquo;s
+special companion was. The groom furnished it, for a price:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Andrews was with him, Miss. She mostly is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Saturday night was the weekly hop, the most festive occasion of the
+week. Max had given Isabelle orders that she could not sit up for
+dances, as she was still a schoolgirl. The girl made no protest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hops don&rsquo;t interest me,&rdquo; she said, indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner she took a few turns on the piazza with Wally before she
+went to bed. She wore an odd, white
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg&nbsp;178]</a></span>
+
+cr&ecirc;pe frock, which hung very close. Her hair was bound round her
+head like a cap.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s sneak in and have the first dance together,&rdquo; said Wally; &ldquo;Max has
+a beau.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right; then I&rsquo;ll skip,&rdquo; agreed Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>With the first strains of music they swung into a waltz. They danced
+well, and enjoyed it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go to bed,&rdquo; ordered Max as she passed them.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle saw Mr.&nbsp;Cartel idly glance in, then at sight of her he came to
+the door and watched them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some dance, Miss Bryce. Much obliged. Sorry you have to leave us,&rdquo; said
+Wally as the dance was over.</p>
+
+<p>Cartel strolled off down the hall, and a few seconds later she followed
+him. She saw him saunter into one of the many little rooms used for
+cards, or tea. She noticed it was not lighted and, on the impulse of the
+moment, she stepped in after him.</p>
+
+<p>In a second she was caught and lifted in strong arms. She was kissed
+again and again, while he said laughingly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You little devil, you came after all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder who you are,&rdquo; said Isabelle sweetly, &ldquo;and who you think I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thunder!&rdquo; said Mr.&nbsp;Cartel, holding her off, and trying to peer at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There must be some mistake,&rdquo; Isabelle suggested. &ldquo;I will ask you to
+stand just where you are, until I have time to get into the elevator.
+That will save us both any embarrassment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t understand,&rdquo; he mumbled. &ldquo;I do beg your pardon, I
+thought&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg&nbsp;179]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Give me three minutes; and I rely on you not to peep into the hall,&rdquo;
+she said, with a chuckle. And was gone, leaving the actor-manager more
+at a loss than such events usually found him.</p>
+
+<p>Now whether Mr.&nbsp;Cartel peeped or not, the next day he recalled a
+previous meeting with Wally, and asked to be presented to his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t we met before, Miss Bryce?&rdquo; he asked, giving her a very special
+look.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she replied, with the faintest suspicion of a taunt in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was under the impression that we had.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I couldn&rsquo;t forget.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you enjoying yourself here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not especially.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you enjoy, Miss Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Excitement.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t we find you some?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You might,&rdquo; with the slightest accent on the pronoun.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s try,&rdquo; he countered.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>From that moment he devoted himself to the &ldquo;little Bryce girl.&rdquo; He rode
+with her, walked with her, talked with her, roared with amusement over
+her <i>diablerie</i>, until all tongues clacked about it. Mrs.&nbsp;Andrews left,
+in a huff.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to stop it, Wally,&rdquo; Max ordered. &ldquo;Every one is talking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How can I stop it? You never should have brought her here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg&nbsp;180]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m not going to leave because she makes a fool of herself, so
+you can just take a hand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>About this time a group of enthusiasts decided to get up an
+entertainment. With fear and trembling they asked the great actor to
+take part.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How would you like to act a play with me, Cricket?&rdquo; he asked her, in
+the tone of a god condescending to mortal.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It would amuse me,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This to the great Cartel!&rdquo; said he, modestly. &ldquo;Do you know that the
+finest actresses in America esteem it a privilege to act with me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are women in this hotel who would give their eyes for the
+chance,&rdquo; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I need my eyes for seeing my way about,&rdquo; she drawled.</p>
+
+<p>Well as she managed him she was greatly excited at the prospect of
+acting with him. She had a dreadful row with Max and Wally on the
+subject, but she won out, and the announcement was made that the great
+man would put on a Shaw playlet, assisted by the &ldquo;little Bryce girl.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There followed days of rehearsal and preparation, during which Mr.
+Cartel tried to impress his amateur leading lady, and succeeded not at
+all.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s not the way to do it!&rdquo; he thundered at her repeatedly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right. But that&rsquo;s the way <i>I</i> have to do it. If I&rsquo;m going to be
+this woman, I have to be her <i>my</i> way, not yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the impudent little baggage faced him out, on his
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg&nbsp;181]</a></span>
+
+own ground; and he was forced to admit to himself that, crude as she
+was, she managed effects.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You might be able to act some day,&rdquo; he said to her on an occasion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me a job, and let me try.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But your parents?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;d howl&mdash;and give in. They always do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;H&rsquo;m&mdash;well, we&rsquo;ll see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>The great night came. Needless to say that the Shaw playlet and the
+brilliant Cartel were the events of the occasion. Isabelle was by no
+means obliterated in his shadow. She made a very considerable
+impression. There was a sort of fire about her. Her lines were read, not
+recited; and Shaw is the acid test for the amateur. The performance
+received an ovation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were quite interesting,&rdquo; Cartel said, sparingly&mdash;inspecting her
+with half-closed, speculative eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do I get my job?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Later, he spoke to her parents about her talent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For goodness&rsquo; sake, don&rsquo;t tell her,&rdquo; urged her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wouldn&rsquo;t let me take her for a season?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should say not!&rdquo; replied Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>The fuss that was made over the girl was enough to turn her head
+completely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to take her away, that&rsquo;s all,&rdquo; said Wally, a day or two
+later.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg&nbsp;182]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where?&rdquo; inquired Max, irritated to brevity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. She gets into trouble wherever she goes. We might open
+The Beeches.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime Isabelle asked Cartel daily about a job in his company.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing doing without your parents&rsquo; consent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I make them consent, do I get it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Possibly; but they won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he teased her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know me,&rdquo; she warned him.</p>
+
+<p>The end of August came, and with it the great man&rsquo;s departure, for
+rehearsals in town. Isabelle was desolated. Her god, her idol, was
+leaving her behind, and only because of those eternal drawbacks&mdash;her
+parents. She said her farewell to him demurely, and echoed his hope that
+they would meet soon in town.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve made my summer for me, little witch,&rdquo; he said, in an aside.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter w600"><a href="images/i193.jpg">
+<img class="noborder" src="images/i193b.jpg" alt="&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve made my summer for me, little witch,&rdquo; Cartel said" title="&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve made my summer for me, little witch,&rdquo; Cartel said" /></a>
+<span class="caption"><i>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve made my summer for me, little witch,&rdquo; Cartel said</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He left. There passed three days of utter misery and boredom. Wally went
+to New York on business, and refused to take her along; Max was cross;
+the devil of revolt entered Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>She wired Cartel:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Terrible row. Disinherited by parents. Will apply at theatre
+to-morrow, at ten, for promised job.</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Isabelle.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>She sneaked two dress-suit cases on to the hotel baggage &rsquo;bus, and she
+took a morning train to New York. Arrived there she wired Max:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg&nbsp;183]</a></span></p>
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Am going on stage. Useless to try to stop me. Am determined on
+a career.</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Isabelle.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Max received this message at tea time, as she sat with a group of merry
+idlers on the piazza. She read it&mdash;frowned. With an exclamation of
+annoyance she summoned a boy, and wrote as follows to Wally:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Isabelle has joined Cartel. Catch her and bring her back.</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Max.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is anything wrong, dear Max?&rdquo; inquired her best beau, noting her
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s chronic in our family!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg&nbsp;184]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</h2>
+
+<p>Isabelle went directly to their town house and demanded a bed of the
+caretaker, who was an old family servant. At ten in the morning she
+presented herself at the stage door of the New York Theatre, and sent in
+a card to Mr.&nbsp;Cartel. Word came out that he had not arrived. She was not
+permitted to go in, and to her great indignation she had to march up and
+down the alley for an hour until the great one came.</p>
+
+<p>At sight of him she felt that all her troubles were at an end. She
+hurried forward with a confident smile, as he stepped from his motor. No
+gleam of delight at the sight of her overspread his features, however.
+He saw her; he bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah&mdash;I got your message,&rdquo; he said, absently. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that there
+is anything for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s got to be something for me,&rdquo; said Isabelle with promptness and
+vigour. &ldquo;You let me desert my family for a career, and you&rsquo;ve got to
+help me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, my dear girl, I urged you not to break with your family, you
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s too late to talk about that. Here I am. Now, what are you going to
+do about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, come in,&rdquo; he said, curtly; and they went into the theatre.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg&nbsp;185]</a></span></p>
+<p>It was Isabelle&rsquo;s first view of the hindside of the mysteries. It was a
+hot day, and rehearsal was in progress. A group of people sat listlessly
+about the stage, on kitchen chairs, while a man in a n&eacute;glig&eacute; shirt and
+no coat urged them to get a little &ldquo;pep&rdquo; into the scene &ldquo;for the love of
+God!&rdquo; Cartel&rsquo;s arrival caused a ripple. All the actors sat up, as if
+electrified. The stage manager advanced at once to speak with him. He
+glanced at Isabelle, but Cartel made no move to introduce them. In fact
+he seemed to have forgotten about her. He issued brief orders, asked a
+few questions, turned to go. Then, as if on an afterthought, he added:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By the way, Jenkins, this is Miss Isabelle Bryce. Try her out in the
+maid&rsquo;s part, will you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr.&nbsp;Jenkins nodded to Isabelle, who was furious at her hero for this
+casual treatment of her career.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come over here,&rdquo; ordered Jenkins, indicating a chair and offering her a
+script. &ldquo;Read &lsquo;Mary,&rsquo;&rdquo; he added, briefly, and went on with the
+rehearsal.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle was dazed. It was so different from her idea of it. She had
+supposed Cartel would introduce her to the company and the manager as a
+genius he had discovered this summer. She thought she would be made much
+of, as his prot&eacute;g&eacute;e. Instead of which she was set upon a kitchen chair,
+like a strange kitten, and told to read &ldquo;Mary.&rdquo; Nobody paid any
+attention to her. They did not even look at her. They went on,
+indifferently, reading their parts, moving here and there on orders from
+Jenkins. Suddenly her name was rapped out:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your cue, Miss Bryce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg&nbsp;186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She fumbled her script, blushed furiously, found the place, and read
+stupidly, beginning with the cue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Where is she? Mrs.&nbsp;Horton telephoned she would be here at five,
+sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, get up,&rdquo; ordered Jenkins, testily. &ldquo;You enter R., upper door.
+Come front and answer Horton, who stands L.&nbsp;C. Then you exit L., up
+stage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They all looked at her now. She felt their impatience, their
+supercilious smiles. She knew she was that leper in the theatre&mdash;an
+amateur. She did not know what Jenkins was talking about with his down
+R&rsquo;s, and his up L&rsquo;s. He entered as Mary and showed her the business. She
+caught the idea at once, and he grunted something which might have been
+approval or a curse. The rest of the time she spent in fevered attention
+to the script, looking for the signal, &ldquo;Mary,&rdquo; but it came no more in
+that act. They went all over it again, and she managed it without a
+hitch. Then they were dismissed until two o&rsquo;clock, and every one hurried
+off for lunch.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle waited, thinking that of course Cartel would ask her to lunch
+with him. But there were no signs of him. She inquired where his office
+was, and ascended the stairs with the intention of expressing her
+dissatisfaction with her part. She stopped outside the door at the sound
+of voices&mdash;Cartel&rsquo;s and Wally&rsquo;s. She went in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well!&rdquo; exploded her father, &ldquo;so there you are!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good morning, Wally. Max wired you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She did. You will come home with me at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is no need of our boring Mr.&nbsp;Cartel with our family rows,&rdquo; she
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg&nbsp;187]</a></span>
+
+said, sweetly. &ldquo;I have no intention of going anywhere with you.
+I&rsquo;ve decided upon a stage career, and I&rsquo;m rehearsing with
+Mr.&nbsp;Cartel now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The manager stifled a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not of age, young woman, and you can be <i>made</i> to do things!&rdquo;
+said Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take it to law, you mean? Jail and all that? Public announcement that
+you and Max can&rsquo;t manage me? Stupid, Wally, very stupid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not through with your education. It will be time enough to
+decide on a career when you finish school.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have finished school. That I am determined upon. You may as well face
+it, Wally. I am on the stage, and I intend to stay on it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Bryce, take a word of advice from me. I meet this every day.
+Girls get this germ, and my experience is that it&rsquo;s better to let the
+disease run its course. If you force her to go back to school, she has a
+grievance for life. If she goes back of her own accord, she&rsquo;s cured.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s ridiculous! We&rsquo;d be the laughing stock of the town!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no; it happens in the best families. Believe me, it is not such bad
+training for young women who have never been disciplined&mdash;like your
+daughter. She&rsquo;ll get it, in this business. She&rsquo;ll learn to obey orders
+and to respect authority.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she&rsquo;s struck on herself now, and if she goes on the stage&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t bother; we&rsquo;ll take that out of her,&rdquo; remarked Cartel.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg&nbsp;188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Wally looked from Isabelle&rsquo;s set face to the manager&rsquo;s smiling one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is your idea?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let her try it. Let her live at home. Send her back and forth in your
+car; protect her, of course. But let her have her fling; it won&rsquo;t take
+long,&rdquo; said Cartel, with a wise nod at Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Try it, Wally, just give me a chance,&rdquo; cried the near actress.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your mother will raise the roof!&rdquo; he began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll come round, if you back me up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he said, miserably.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle flew at him and hugged him wildly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Wally, you&rsquo;re a dear,&rdquo; she cried, thus committing him to
+partnership.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We needn&rsquo;t treat Cartel to our family reconciliations,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come take me to lunch, then. I have to be back at two. That isn&rsquo;t much
+of a part,&rdquo; she added to Cartel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No? Well, we all must begin, you know. That is the first blow to young
+ladies of your proclivities.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He rose, and bowed them out, as sign of dismissal. Wally and Isabelle
+went to lunch, and it took them so long to work out their plans&mdash;where
+Isabelle was to stay at present, how the matter was to be presented to
+Max, and such weighty subjects&mdash;that Isabelle was late to rehearsal, and
+was sharply reprimanded.</p>
+
+<p>She felt this to be very unjust as her line did not come for a long
+time. At the end of a long, tedious day, she went home to dine in lonely
+state with the caretaker
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg&nbsp;189]</a></span>
+
+as cook, and to crawl into bed immediately thereafter.</p>
+
+<p>Wally managed the situation very well. He made Max see the futility of
+fighting their child; he assured her that Cartel promised that the
+seizure would be brief. He looked up old Miss Watts, and engaged her to
+act as companion to the girl, accompanying her to all rehearsals. They
+were to live in a suite of rooms, opened for them in the house, with the
+caretaker providing their meals.</p>
+
+<p>It was all satisfactory to Isabelle. She remembered Miss Watts with
+pleasure, and she proved an unobjectionable companion. She took a book
+and read during rehearsals. She seemed interested in Isabelle&rsquo;s future.</p>
+
+<p>The career was not exciting so far. The first real event was the day
+Cartel came to rehearsal. Everybody was on tiptoe with excitement. The
+stupid, mumbling thing they called the play suddenly took shape, and
+point, and brilliancy. It infuriated Isabelle that her only chance lay
+in a vagrant, unimportant line here and there, when she knew she could
+play the lead, Mrs.&nbsp;Horton, with a dash and distinction totally lacking
+in the performance of the actress who was to play it.</p>
+
+<p>She told Cartel so, on one of the infrequent occasions when she saw him
+to talk to. He laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The nerve of you kids!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You think the Lord has made you an
+actress, don&rsquo;t you? All you need is a chance at a leading part, in order
+to startle New York!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle tried to reply, but he swept on.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg&nbsp;190]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is an Art; you want to desecrate a great, important Art! It takes
+long years of preparation, hard labour, infinite patience, aching
+disappointment; it takes brain, and passion, and intelligence to make an
+actor. Now where do you come in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, but you thought this summer&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought you were a clever little girl doing a sleight-of-hand
+performance,&rdquo; was his crushing answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you dance? Can you fence? Can you run? Is your body as mobile and
+lithe as an animal&rsquo;s? Do you breathe properly? Can you sing? Is your
+voice a cultivated instrument with an octave and a half of tones, or
+have you five tones at your command? Do you know how to fill a theatre
+with a whisper? Can you carry your body with distinction? Can you sit
+and rise with grace? Is your speech perfect?&rdquo; He hurled the questions at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you don&rsquo;t know the a-b-c&rsquo;s of this art. When you can say &lsquo;yes&rsquo; to
+all these questions, then you are ready to begin, and not until then.
+Mind you&mdash;to <i>begin</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But everybody on the stage cannot say &lsquo;yes&rsquo; to all those things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, worse luck! Because soft-hearted fools like me permit crude little
+girls like you to speak a line without any excuse for so doing. We&rsquo;ll
+have no great acting in America until we shut the door upon every boy
+and girl who thinks he can act, by the grace of God.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With this finale, the great man walked away, leaving Isabelle feeling
+very young and very flat. But she rallied presently. Of course, he had
+exaggerated it. It might
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg&nbsp;191]</a></span>
+
+be that the majority of people had to go that long, hard road of
+preparation, but always there would be some who would leap to the top
+without the ladder. In her deepest, secret heart she knew herself to be
+of that few.</p>
+
+<p>She took up the subject again that very night, after dinner, with Miss
+Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you think is the most necessary thing for success, Miss Watts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But in something like the stage, I mean.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t make any difference what it is, true success is the result
+of hard work and nothing else,&rdquo; that lady persisted, bromidically
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think it is ever an accident?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If it is, it&rsquo;s the worst accident that can happen to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because then you have to live up to something you haven&rsquo;t earned. You
+don&rsquo;t know what to do, and in most cases you slump back into
+mediocrity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there must be some people who don&rsquo;t grind&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Geniuses, maybe; but they usually do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you suppose geniuses recognize themselves?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They don&rsquo;t, in most cases.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But if you felt that you had a great gift, that you were going to do
+wonderful things, mightn&rsquo;t it be that you were a genius?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should say that it meant that you were merely young,&rdquo; smiled Miss
+Watts.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle decided that doubtless all geniuses met with this lack of
+recognition in those about them. She pinned
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg&nbsp;192]</a></span>
+
+her faith to herself! In spite of Cartel and Miss Watts&mdash;who, after
+all, were <i>old</i>&mdash;she rather thought that on the opening night, when
+she spoke her lines, few as they were, the critics would say simply, in
+large-type headlines:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;CARTEL HAS FOUND A GENIUS!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg&nbsp;193]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</h2>
+
+<p>October came, dragged by, with the opening night of the play coming
+nearer. Wally induced Max to come to town and open the house. It was a
+cold autumn and nearly all of their friends returned early, too.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had hoped that nobody would be in town when this idiot child of ours
+makes her ridiculous d&eacute;but, but now everybody on earth is home. Even the
+weather favours Isabelle&rsquo;s plans,&rdquo; complained Max to her spouse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one need know about it, if we can keep it out of the papers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, <span class="smcap">if</span>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Better make the best of it. Ask a lot of people to dinner, take all the
+boxes, and make a joke of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle may make a joke of us,&rdquo; commented her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She gets away with things,&rdquo; Wally encouraged her.</p>
+
+<p>As for Isabelle, she was bored to the point of despair with her career.
+Day in, day out, she said her stupid lines. If she varied one inflection
+from yesterday&rsquo;s inflection she was reprimanded by Jenkins. Mary and her
+lines were as standardized as Webster&rsquo;s Dictionary, and no original
+turns were to be permitted. Cartel continued distant, every inch a star,
+wrapped in his greatness.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg&nbsp;194]</a></span>
+
+The other members of the company paid scant attention to her, so she
+made no friends.</p>
+
+<p>It was all very dull and mechanical. The play started off and ground
+itself through as automatically as a machine. Jenkins ruled like the
+boss of the shop. There was no room for genius.</p>
+
+<p>Just to help herself endure the tedium of eternal rehearsal, Isabelle
+invented an absorbing game. She rewrote the play, in innumerable ways,
+with the plot revolving around Mary as the central figure. Mary was now
+the friend and adviser of Mrs.&nbsp;Horton, now the trusted confidante of Mr.
+Horton. But whichever she was, she was a noble, sublimated creature&mdash;no
+possible relation to Mary, the automatic servant. She had long,
+beautiful speeches, interesting and unusual stage business; she wore a
+striking maid&rsquo;s costume, designed by Isabelle. This Mary managed to keep
+Isabelle&rsquo;s imagination awake during the weary weeks in which the other
+Mary walked on and off, with her &ldquo;Yes, Mrs.&nbsp;Horton,&rdquo; and her &ldquo;No, Mr.
+Horton.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a Sunday Supplement blossomed out with a full-page drawing of
+Isabelle, and the announcement of her coming d&eacute;but on the stage, in
+Sidney Cartel&rsquo;s new production to open on such-and-such a date.
+Thereafter every paper in town blared forth the news of this event.
+There were full columns of talk about the Bryces, their money, their
+position, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s beauty, Isabelle&rsquo;s eccentricities. The
+originality and daring of their only child were dwelt upon at great
+length.</p>
+
+<p>The performance with Cartel at the mountain inn was
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg&nbsp;195]</a></span>
+
+described. The hungry public was told how Cartel had seen her genius at
+a glance and persuaded her parents to let him have the training of her
+talent. Isabelle was snapshotted leaving the theatre, or riding in the
+Park. She was not safe a moment from reporters and camera men.</p>
+
+<p>There was unanimous disapproval of this state of affairs on the part of
+her parents and her manager. It was difficult to tell which was the
+angrier. The Bryces accused Isabelle, but for once she was innocent. She
+had no idea how the reports started. She had talked to nobody. Miss
+Watts corroborated this statement. Neither of them knew when the artist
+made the sketch of her, and they never supposed that the photographers
+were taking her picture.</p>
+
+<p>Cartel was furious. It was not in his plans at all to let this youngster
+take the middle of his stage on the occasion of his New York opening. He
+would have dismissed her at once, had the newspaper talk not gone so
+far. As it was he joined her parents heartily in a determined effort to
+shut them off. But it couldn&rsquo;t be done. Isabelle had caught the public
+eye; she was a marked personality, and editors played her up big.</p>
+
+<p>Secretly she triumphed. It was only the beginning in the inevitable
+recognition of her greatness. It strengthened her belief that she was of
+the elect, and she rarely ever thought of the &ldquo;Mary&rdquo; part with which she
+was actually to prove herself, but she hurled herself into the
+development of the other Mary, which should have been hers, by all the
+laws of right. The two creatures merged&mdash;were one. Once or twice at
+rehearsal, aroused by her cue
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg&nbsp;196]</a></span>
+
+from some wonderful scene where Mary held the spotlight, she faltered
+for a second for those barren lines of the real Mary.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with you, Miss Bryce? Keep your mind on what you&rsquo;re
+doing,&rdquo; warned Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at him. Poor fool! In a few weeks he would be bragging that
+he stage-managed her first appearance. She could afford to be patient
+with his bad temper, now.</p>
+
+<p>Dress rehearsal was called and became a fevered memory. The day of the
+opening Isabelle spent quietly at home, except for a ride in the Park.
+She was to rest, and have her supper in her sitting room. Wally came in,
+in the midst of her repast, and fussed about her room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you nervous?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am. I&rsquo;m so nervous I could scream!&rdquo; he exploded. &ldquo;I hate all this
+notoriety. They say the house will be packed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We always like a full house,&rdquo; she said, serenely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose you flunk it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I won&rsquo;t!&rdquo;&mdash;promptly.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her uncomprehendingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you could only be kept in a cage, in the cellar!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed gaily at that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor old Wally! Don&rsquo;t fret. You&rsquo;ll be very proud of me some day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Max floated in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I heard laughter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You did,&rdquo; Isabelle replied.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg&nbsp;197]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you cool enough to laugh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite. Wally is the only nervous one. Who is coming to dinner, Max?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eighteen people. Christiansen for one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, good!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When do you go to the theatre?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Seven.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, Wally, she ought to rest. For all our sakes, Isabelle, keep
+your head and don&rsquo;t make a fool of yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Much obliged,&rdquo; said Isabelle. &ldquo;I take it you are wishing me luck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally kissed her cheek, and they went out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor dears,&rdquo; mused Isabelle, &ldquo;it will be hard for them to accommodate
+themselves to my importance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she gave herself up to dreams of triumph until it was time to go.
+There was excitement in the air at the theatre. Voices were high, and
+eyes were bright. She was greeted loudly from open doors, as she went to
+her dressing room. Since the papers had boomed her, her position in the
+company had changed. Every one was dressed early and little knots of
+people discussed the big house, the critics, the chances of success for
+the play. It was a &ldquo;strong&rdquo; play, and, so far, the season had offered
+only trifles. It was too soon to know yet what the public appetite
+craved.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You got to change its meat. When it&rsquo;s fed up on crooks, ye got to give
+it sex; when it turns against that, ye got to try comedy. <i>My</i> opinion
+is, this is a comedy season,&rdquo; said the gentleman who played the
+butler&mdash;a part
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg&nbsp;198]</a></span>
+
+even more inconspicuous than Isabelle&rsquo;s. They all inquired the
+state of her pulse, and marvelled at her calm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll be a hit, or she&rsquo;ll be rotten,&rdquo; was the butler gentleman&rsquo;s
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She can&rsquo;t do much in that maid&rsquo;s part.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Can&rsquo;t</i> she? Remember the time they tried to bury Ethel Barrymore in a
+maid&rsquo;s part, when she was a kid? Took the show right away from John
+Drew!&rdquo; said the authority.</p>
+
+<p>Finally the curtain was up, and the play was on. Isabelle&rsquo;s initial
+appearance was late in the first act, when Cartel was building carefully
+the foundations of plot for the subsequent superstructure. Isabelle
+entered with a visitor&rsquo;s card in the middle of an important speech by
+Cartel. She had one line. To his intense fury, at sight of her the house
+burst into applause, and he had to halt his oration until she
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The play was a domestic drama, with the popular old-fashioned man, wed
+to the popular-new-fashioned woman who wants to &ldquo;live her life.&rdquo; In the
+first act, the husband&rsquo;s point of view and character are expounded and
+contrasted with the woman&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>In a daring second act, the husband&mdash;on the casual invitation of an
+acquaintance to come along to a supper party in a certain man&rsquo;s
+rooms&mdash;finds his own wife acting as hostess. After the modern manner he
+breaks no furniture, makes no scene; but in tense tones, aside, he
+demands an explanation from her. She promises him an interview at their
+home, the following day, at five. He
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg&nbsp;199]</a></span>
+
+refuses to wait; she insists. He leaves. Events follow rapidly. The host
+has a stroke of apoplexy and dies. A muddle-headed guest summons a
+police ambulance instead of a hospital one. Police arrive, murder is
+suspected, every one is arrested. There is a strong finale, with hints
+of astounding revelations to come&mdash;in act three, of course.</p>
+
+<p>The third act opens with a very tense atmosphere. Horton (Cartel), the
+husband&mdash;unaware that his wife is under arrest, suspected of
+murder&mdash;comes to his home, from the club, where he has spent a sleepless
+night. It is nearly five o&rsquo;clock, the hour of the interview. Business of
+excitement, pacing, looking at watch. He rings for Mary, who enters.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Mrs.&nbsp;Horton, Mary?&rdquo; he asks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Horton telephoned she would be here at five o&rsquo;clock, sir,&rdquo; answers
+Mary, who, according to the playwright, then goes out. But Mary did not
+exit.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She hasn&rsquo;t been home all night, sir,&rdquo; she added suddenly, unexpectedly,
+&ldquo;and it may be that she is in some trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cartel turned a fierce frown upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That will do, Mary,&rdquo; he said, threateningly.</p>
+
+<p>Mary threw herself at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mr.&nbsp;Horton, don&rsquo;t be hard on her! She may have been misled by this
+man; but at heart she is a good woman&mdash;I could swear it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cartel was shaking with fury. He leaned over and grasped the prostrate
+Mary by the arm, so hard that he nearly cracked her bones. &ldquo;Ouch!&rdquo; she
+cried, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re hurting me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg&nbsp;200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The audience slowly grasped the fact that this scene was a surprise to
+Cartel. It was so still you could have heard a sigh. Mary resisted any
+attempt to get her on her feet, and this side of carrying her off Cartel
+was helpless.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;d only make a confidante of me, Mr.&nbsp;Horton, I could be a help to
+you in your hour of need,&rdquo; she cried passionately.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get out!&rdquo; hissed Cartel, <i>sotto voce</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It looks as if she committed that murder, but I have facts to prove
+that she did not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the act was devoted to breaking the news of the murder to
+Horton. In one fell line this demon had demolished the play. The
+audience began to titter, to laugh, to roar! Cartel dragged Isabelle to
+the door, and literally flung her forth. But at the expression on her
+face the audience actually shouted with delight, they applauded
+deafeningly.</p>
+
+<p>Cartel acted quickly. He went up stage, turned his back, and looked out
+of a prop. window, for what seemed a lifetime, till the hysterics out in
+front subsided. Finally it was still enough for him to take up the scene
+again. But at the dramatic entrance of his wife, fresh from a night in
+jail, they were off again. Cartel glared at them, and in a shamefaced
+sort of way, they subsided, and the play creaked on, as dead as last
+year&rsquo;s news.</p>
+
+<p>Mary had a later entrance, which Cartel cut, but it necessitated the
+mention of her name, whereupon the monster mirth was loosed again.</p>
+
+<p>Finally the curtain descended upon the tragedy. Mrs.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg&nbsp;201]</a></span>
+
+Horton went into hysterics, and Mr.&nbsp;Horton, bathed in sweat, went to
+look for Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>The company stood about in frightened groups, but he did not see them.
+He threw open her door without so much as a knock upon it, and he
+shouted so you could have heard him in Harlem.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You little beast! You&mdash;you hell-cat! What d&rsquo;ye mean by spoiling my
+scene like that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I am so sorry,&rdquo; said Isabelle, &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t mean to do it, but I got
+the two Marys all mixed up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re crazy&mdash;you&rsquo;re a mad woman! What do you think this will mean to
+me? It means failure&mdash;complete failure! I never could get through the
+scene again. It means thousands of dollars, that&rsquo;s what it means.
+Because I let a stage-struck fool like you speak a line! Talk about
+gratitude! You turn and ruin me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I didn&rsquo;t know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t pull that baby stuff!&rdquo; he shrieked. &ldquo;You <i>did</i> know. You
+<i>intended</i> to do it all the time. You&rsquo;re so crazy about yourself, that
+you&rsquo;d murder your own mother to get the spotlight! Get out of here!
+Don&rsquo;t you ever let me see your face again! Don&rsquo;t you ever step in this
+theatre, you dirty spy! Take her away! Take her away!&rdquo; he raved, now
+entirely beside himself.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle for once was dumb. Poor, terrified Miss Watts seized her by the
+arm, and dragged her out the stage door, and down the alley.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg&nbsp;202]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</h2>
+
+<p>Isabelle walked Miss Watts for miles. She would not answer questions,
+nor discuss the events leading up to Cartel&rsquo;s outburst.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, he isn&rsquo;t a gentleman,&rdquo; was her only remark during the entire
+walk. Poor Miss Watts was utterly in the dark over the whole situation.
+She was sitting quietly in the dressing room, reading the <i>Atlantic
+Monthly</i>, under the impression that the play was going nicely, when the
+terrible outbreak of Cartel occurred. One thing she grasped, and that
+was that the girl was suffering, so she let her alone and trudged along
+beside her, as well as she could.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Isabelle called a taxi, and ordered the driver to hurry them
+home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t see the Wallys to-night,&rdquo; she said, as they reached the house.
+&ldquo;If they&rsquo;re home, you tell them whatever you like.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the Bryces were not in yet, so Matthews told them. Isabelle rushed
+upstairs, and went to bed, with a brief good-night to Miss Watts. An
+hour later Max snapped on the light in Isabelle&rsquo;s room, and evidently
+spoke to Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The little beast is asleep!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Did you ever hear anything
+equal to that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg&nbsp;203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Isabelle heard him laugh; the light was turned off, and her parents
+went on their way. They never had any part in her crises. They thought
+this terrible, wracking fiasco was funny! She covered her ears to shut
+out the hideous wild laughing of that audience. She could never forget
+it as long as she lived&mdash;that gust of laughter, as if the solid earth
+had begun to rock and roll.</p>
+
+<p>She tried to think back to the beginning of the disaster, but it was all
+hazy in her mind&mdash;a chaos of lights, people, applause, excitement&mdash;a
+mixture of the r&ocirc;le she was playing and the one she had made up for
+herself. She could not remember when it was that she began on the wrong
+Mary.</p>
+
+<p>She viewed the ruins of her hopes, lying all about her. She heard
+Cartel&rsquo;s shrieks of rage, and that awful laughing! It was
+terrible&mdash;terrible! And nobody would understand. There was nothing for
+her to do, but die.</p>
+
+<p>She thought back to another time when she had wanted to die, and dear
+Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin had comforted her. If only she were here now she would
+understand, and help her to face her disgrace. What was she to do? How
+could she live it down? She must hide somewhere. Maybe she ought to
+disappear in the morning, before her parents were awake. That would let
+her out of the much-dreaded interview with them. So with this idea in
+her mind, she fell into troubled sleep, at dawn.</p>
+
+<p>When she woke, it was to broad daylight, and the presence of her father
+and mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; sighed Isabelle, as her eyes fell on them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been asleep all day,&rdquo; said her mother. &ldquo;We thought maybe you&rsquo;d
+taken something.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg&nbsp;204]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Taken something?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Drug, or something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it late?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Four o&rsquo;clock in the afternoon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, and I intended to get away early this morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get away where?&rdquo; inquired Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Anywhere out of sight&rdquo;&mdash;desperately.</p>
+
+<p>He sat on the edge of her bed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, kid, just what did happen?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never understand, and I&rsquo;m not going to talk about it,&rdquo; she said,
+sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t take that tone,&rdquo; said her mother, sharply. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve made an
+utter fool of yourself, and of us, too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Max, let her alone to-day,&rdquo; Wally protested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s always &lsquo;Let her do it her own way,&rsquo; with you. You backed her up in
+this foolishness. We&rsquo;ve had all the publicity I intend to have through
+Isabelle. She will go back to school, and stay in retirement, until we
+are ready to bring her out,&rdquo; said Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All I say is that to-morrow is soon enough to take it up with her. The
+kid&rsquo;s had a bad fall, and she needs to get together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, she has! She comes home and goes to sleep for sixteen hours, while
+we read the newspapers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Newspapers?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Column after column of what you did to Cartel&rsquo;s opening. If he doesn&rsquo;t
+sue Wally for a fat sum, I miss my guess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did they say?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg&nbsp;205]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can read them for yourself. I intend that you shall. If there is
+any way to cure your conceit, I&rsquo;d like to see it done,&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce
+continued.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Plenty of time later,&rdquo; urged Wally, distressed at his daughter&rsquo;s white,
+tragic face. &ldquo;Did Cartel say anything to you last night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dismissed you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again she inclined her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should hope so,&rdquo; laughed Max, shortly. &ldquo;Paper says he has gone to
+Atlantic City with a nervous collapse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the play?&rdquo; Isabelle said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Closed. That&rsquo;s what you did. Must have endeared yourself to the
+company.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a groan, Isabelle turned her face to the wall, and Wally dragged
+Max out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Later Miss Watts came in to offer tea. The girl refused it, but she
+begged her companion to bring her all the morning papers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait until to-morrow, my dear,&rdquo; Miss Watts begged, alarmed at the
+change in her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. I want to get it over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the papers were brought.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg&nbsp;206]</a></span></p>
+<p>After propping her up on pillows and seeing that she was bodily
+comfortable at least, Miss Watts withdrew. Isabelle began at the
+beginning and read every word about that unhappy opening. The articles
+were written with a jocularity hard to bear. Most of them had graduated
+out of the regular dramatic review columns on to the first page.
+&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Hilarious Opening at the New York Theatre!</span>&rdquo; &ldquo;<span class="smcap">Cartel&rsquo;s Find!</span>&rdquo;
+&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Impromptu Artist Makes Bow.</span>&rdquo; These were some of the captions.</p>
+
+<p>They all developed the story for what it was worth: Cartel&rsquo;s discovery
+of Isabelle at the inn; a few paragraphs about her family; mention of
+the wonderful publicity provided for her; a description of the brilliant
+first-night audience, with the Bryces&rsquo; distinguished guests in all the
+boxes; Isabelle&rsquo;s reception as the maid. Then followed the plot of the
+play, up to the awful moment when Cartel&rsquo;s &ldquo;discovery&rdquo; forgot her lines
+and began to improvise. They painted the star&rsquo;s astonishment and
+subsequent fury. They added speculation as to the real climax of the
+evening which must have taken place back on the stage after the dropping
+of the final curtain. Every article made you hear the uncontrollable
+laughter of the audience.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle agonized over each one. She raged at the opinion of one
+dramatic critic who said that no doubt Cartel would release Miss Bryce
+on the morrow, but that a dozen managers would step forward to capture a
+young woman of such marked personality, and such a talent for publicity.</p>
+
+<p>Max was right; they were all ruined. She had made the whole family
+ridiculous. She wasn&rsquo;t surprised that Max hated her for it. She deserved
+anything from them now. She lay in bed for several days, scarcely
+touching food, brooding upon her disgrace until she was really ill.</p>
+
+<p>Wally hovered about her, deeply concerned, but not knowing how to
+comfort her. He kept Max out of the room as much as he could. Finally he
+sent for a doctor.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg&nbsp;207]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly unnecessary,&rdquo; said his wife. &ldquo;She isn&rsquo;t sick. She&rsquo;s made a
+fool of herself and lost the middle of the stage, so now she goes on a
+hunger strike to work up a little sympathy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The kid is suffering, I tell you. She is all broken up over this. I
+think we ought to take her away somewhere.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can count me out. I&rsquo;ve been dragged home to open this house for her
+convenience. I&rsquo;m not going off to some empty resort place because she
+needs a change.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor had a talk with Isabelle, told her to cheer up, gave her a
+tonic, agreed with Wally that she needed a change, and went on his way.</p>
+
+<p>Martin Christiansen asked Max about Isabelle and was informed that she
+had the sulks. He asked permission to see her, and he was the first
+visitor admitted to her room. He was shocked at the change in her. She
+was thin, and haggard, and old. Her eyes hurt him. She was sitting up,
+in a big chair, wearing a bizarre Chinese coat, all orange and black and
+gold. She looked any age, an exotic little creature. The hand she
+offered was thin as a bird&rsquo;s claw.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking that you might understand,&rdquo; she said to him, before
+he could speak.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He drew a chair beside hers and waited.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t think I forgot my lines, did you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t like you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t. I was bored at rehearsals, and so I made up a wonderful
+Mary-part for myself, a noble character whom every one trusted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were upon his face, and he nodded slowly,
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg&nbsp;208]</a></span>
+
+hoping that his amusement did not leak through his expression.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Every day, all those hours, I used to be this made-up Mary, and just
+toward the last I got a little wobbly as to which Mary was which,&rdquo; she
+admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Naturally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew you would see that. Well, the night of the opening I was so
+excited that I mixed them all up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She said this with such tragic emphasis that he did not even want to
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How unfortunate!&rdquo; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it wasn&rsquo;t unfortunate,&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;it was stupid, stupid, stupid!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it was, a trifle,&rdquo; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I was going to be such a success. I just knew I could act.
+Cartel said it would take me years of hard work even to begin to be an
+artist, and I thought I could just show him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you may be said to have shown him!&rdquo; Christiansen remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I did. I showed him I was a fool. I don&rsquo;t wonder that he nearly
+killed me for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No doubt it was real agony for a man as highly strung as he is. For
+months he had been building a fine house, and in three blows you sent it
+crumbling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t!&rdquo; groaned Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t come to reproach you. I came to help. I want to be sure that
+we both understand that you have been to blame in this affair. That
+settled, we&rsquo;ll go on to the next step.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg&nbsp;209]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t any next step. I&rsquo;ve disgraced us all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, come, it isn&rsquo;t so bad as that. You have given a great many people a
+good laugh, and no doubt they are very grateful to you for it. Now, do
+you want to go on with the stage?&mdash;really to study the fine art of
+acting?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No! <i>no! NO!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are your plans?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t any.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot spend the rest of your life in this room, my child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d like to.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s always something to be made of our tragedies, Isabelle. The
+first thing is to get yourself well again. You&rsquo;re all eyes. It won&rsquo;t do.
+You must go away and get together, and when you come back we will have a
+talk about your work. I&rsquo;m sure you have talent of some sort, if we can
+just direct it properly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll never believe in myself again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and patted her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Europe is out of the question. How about Bermuda? Ever been there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&rdquo;&mdash;indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just the place. Lots doing. Soldiers recuperating, people to watch,
+people to play with. Fine place for you. I&rsquo;ll suggest it to your
+parents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He rose and took her two small hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You promise me to get well, and to come back your old vivid self?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg&nbsp;210]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try. You <i>are</i> a comfort. You helped that other time, too, when
+the guillotine nearly broke Tommy Page&rsquo;s neck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He threw back his head and laughed so heartily at the memory, that she
+laughed too.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always been rather ridiculous, haven&rsquo;t I?&rdquo; she asked him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My child, that is an elderly remark,&rdquo; he said, and he left her&mdash;on the
+whole, cheered.</p>
+
+<p>He promptly made his suggestion to the Bryces. It was discussed pro and
+con and then finally it was decided to ship the girl off, in Miss
+Watts&rsquo;s care, for it was evident that she was making herself ill with
+the humiliation of her failure.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>So, one day in November Wally saw them off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You look like a Brownie,&rdquo; he said, as he kissed Isabelle good-bye. &ldquo;For
+goodness&rsquo; sake, get some flesh on your bones.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry, old thing,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come back fat, and
+chastened in spirit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He grinned, and ran for the gangway, and stood waving and smiling as the
+steamer slipped from the pier.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg&nbsp;211]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</h2>
+
+<p>The two travellers settled themselves and took stock of the passengers
+in the casual way of those who go down to the sea in ships. Miss Watts
+was prepared to have Isabelle throw herself into the activities of the
+brief voyage, in order that she might forget her troubles. She did just
+the opposite. She lay in her chair, reading or contemplating the sea;
+she marched the deck in absent-minded solitude. Miss Watts was the only
+person she spoke to, or permitted to speak to her.</p>
+
+<p>But her odd face, her unusual clothes, and her great <i>hauteur</i> marked
+her at once in the eyes of the idlers who sat on deck and gossiped. She
+was soon identified as the heroine of the Cartel opening. Speculation
+and much interest followed her.</p>
+
+<p>The second day out the chair to the right of Isabelle was occupied for
+the first time. A cursory glance was enough to assure her of the
+following facts: he was handsome &ldquo;as an army with banners&rdquo;; he wore an
+English officer&rsquo;s uniform; and he was very pale. She decided to have
+another look in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>She settled herself comfortably&mdash;aware that his eyes were upon her&mdash;and
+opened her book, with an air of great detachment. Miss Watts was not on
+deck at the moment.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg&nbsp;212]</a></span>
+
+It was some time before she got another chance to look at him
+unobserved. She saw that he had crinkly hair and a ridiculous little
+moustache, twisted at the tips. He had his eyes closed. He certainly was
+white, but one strong, lean, brown hand lay on his lap, giving her a
+feeling of relaxed power. His eyes opened unexpectedly, and she had to
+return to her book in haste. His eyes were very blue and she thought
+there was a smile in them.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts&rsquo;s arrival interrupted this interchange, if it was an
+interchange. But in a few minutes another officer came to chat with the
+invalid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hello, Larry, old man, how are ye?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m fairly fit to-day, thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Glad you can be on deck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rather. I thought I&rsquo;d croak in that hole of a stateroom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lot of people aboard we know. Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington, for one. Remember her in
+London?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rather.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s dying to see &lsquo;dear old Larry.&rsquo; Sit tight, she&rsquo;s on her way now,&rdquo;
+he added, in a lower voice.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle permitted herself a look. A tall, handsome woman was coming
+down the deck, with a swaying sort of walk that was fascinating. She was
+very smartly turned out. A rather fat man, with prominent eyes,
+accompanied her. They stopped beside Larry&rsquo;s chair, and she exclaimed
+enthusiastically:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How are you, old dear? They would not let me into your stateroom, or I
+should have been holding your hand, and giving Mrs.&nbsp;Grundy a treat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg&nbsp;213]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Larry&rdquo; got to his feet and accomplished a gallant bow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Awf&rsquo;lly good of ye,&rdquo; he said, smiling, holding her hand in his.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know Monty Haven, don&rsquo;t you? Captain Larry O&rsquo;Leary, Monty, and
+Major O&rsquo;Dell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So his name was Larry O&rsquo;Leary, mused Isabelle. She liked its softness on
+the tongue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does your wound trouble you, you brave thing?&rdquo; Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington purred.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no. Coming all right. It&rsquo;s nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing? Do you know what this wonderful creature did, under fire and
+all, Monty?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O kind and beautiful lady, spare me blushes. I&rsquo;m after being Irish and
+susceptible to flattery,&rdquo; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry, you old heart-breaker, don&rsquo;t look at me in that wistful Celtic
+way,&rdquo; she commanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington, dear, ye may as well resign yersilf to bein&rsquo; looked
+at,&rdquo; he retorted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is good to hear your blarney and your brogue, Larry. By the way, old
+Mrs.&nbsp;Van Dyke is aboard and demands a sight of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does she now? Come along and let&rsquo;s pay our respects to the old lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put her hand through his arm, and they sauntered off, with the other
+two men in their wake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Handsome woman, wasn&rsquo;t she?&rdquo; Miss Watts remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. I don&rsquo;t like that type. She struck me as <i>bold</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Larry O&rsquo;Leary was the spoiled and petted darling of the boat.
+The tale of his gallant action under
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg&nbsp;214]</a></span>
+
+fire, of his wounds, of his decoration for valour, was passed from mouth
+to mouth, and lost nothing in the retelling.</p>
+
+<p>The men liked him because he was a simple, modest chap, in spite of it
+all. The women followed him around like a cloud of gnats. He jollied
+them all from old Madam Van Dyke, who was seventy, to the smallest girl
+child on the boat.</p>
+
+<p>He looked like a hero out of a fairy book. He had a rollicking,
+contagious laugh, and a courteous heart toward every one. At the ship
+concert for the benefit of wounded soldiers, he sang the songs of the
+trenches, and the marching songs of the Irish troops, the English and
+the French, in a clear baritone voice. There is no hope of disguising
+the fact that Larry O&rsquo;Leary was too good to be true. Like the star in
+the melodrama, he was 99 per cent. hero.</p>
+
+<p>His only rival for the centre of the stage on the brief voyage was
+Isabelle. At first she kept to herself, because she was ill, and wanted
+to be alone. But after a bit she grasped the fact that her aloofness was
+a sensation, and she was not too ill to enjoy that. Her perambulations
+about the deck were watched with undiminished interest. Everybody knew
+everybody else. There were dances, and games and knitting contests, but
+to all invitations Isabelle replied in the negative.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you talk to some of these people, Isabelle? They seem very
+pleasant,&rdquo; Miss Watts said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; sighed the girl, &ldquo;they bore me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Captain O&rsquo;Leary had made several attempts to get an opening to speak to
+her in the afternoon, but she had
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg&nbsp;215]</a></span>
+
+successfully evaded them. Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington in search of the bonny Captain
+spoke to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your handsome neighbour isn&rsquo;t on deck?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo; said Isabelle. &ldquo;I hadn&rsquo;t noticed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington stared, laughed, retreated and the story went the
+rounds. It amused O&rsquo;Leary, and it also piqued him. He was used to being
+noticed by ladies in his vicinity. He made up his mind that he would
+make that girl look at him. He intended to lay siege to Miss Watts, but
+he came upon Isabelle unattended, in deep contemplation of the sea, and
+he promptly sat down beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg pardon, Miss Bryce, but are you Irish?&rdquo; he said deliberately.</p>
+
+<p>She turned big, enquiring eyes upon him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought nobody could be as sad as you look except an Irishman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not Irish,&rdquo; she said, and returned her gaze to the sea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am,&rdquo; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re very sensitive to&mdash;to rebuffs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose so. You were shot in a rebuff, weren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; she said,
+politely.</p>
+
+<p>His laugh rang out at that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but we&rsquo;re not so sensitive to a rebuff from guns as we are to a
+rebuff from ladies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have ye taken an unconquerable dislike to me, Miss Bryce?&rdquo; he begged.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg&nbsp;216]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you&rsquo;re very&mdash;pleasant,&rdquo; admitted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t ye take a lesson from me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You think I&rsquo;m unpleasant?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think your heart is as hard as the rocks in Flodden Field,&rdquo; he
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Being pleasant hasn&rsquo;t anything to do with your heart,&rdquo; was her calm
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hasn&rsquo;t it? Ye think I can be as pleasant as I am, and still have a
+hard, black heart?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you don&rsquo;t like me?&rdquo; he persisted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, rather. But I&rsquo;m a little tired of heroes just now,&rdquo; was her reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I don&rsquo;t qualify,&rdquo; he said curtly, &ldquo;but as a possible
+nuisance I&rsquo;ll take mesilf off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He rose. He stopped behind her chair and leaned over her to say:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That rebuff, ye spoke of, in France. After all, it was an amateur
+affair, as rebuffs go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With which he marched off down the deck, his head very high in the air.
+Miss Watts sat down beside Isabelle with a quick glance at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Weren&rsquo;t you talking to Captain O&rsquo;Leary?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He talked to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t he charming? All the women are so excited about him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what&rsquo;s the matter with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he conceited?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fearfully!&rdquo; quoth Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>She went over that interview dozens of times. Of course
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg&nbsp;217]</a></span>
+
+he would never look at her again. She remembered how Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington
+purred over him&mdash;how Madam Van Dyke patted him. That was the way to
+make him like you, but she had scratched and spit at him, like an angry
+kitten. She couldn&rsquo;t imagine why she had acted like that. She
+admired him immensely. He was more attractive than Jerry Paxton or
+Sidney Cartel or any man she had ever loved, and yet&mdash;she had
+deliberately made him hate her. Well, anyhow, she liked the idea of her
+heart being as hard as the rocks in Flodden Field. It had an important
+sound. He could never say that to the gushing Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington, or any of
+the other women who ran around after him.</p>
+
+<p>So she closed the chapter of their acquaintance on the boat, but she
+worked out a scene or two at Bermuda, including an aeroplane flight in
+which he and she were lost in the clouds. On the whole she preferred the
+things she made up to the things that happened.</p>
+
+<p>As they neared the Islands the weather grew warmer. White clothes
+appeared on deck. Captain O&rsquo;Leary appeared in an undress uniform that
+caused a flutter in feminine hearts. The night of the day of her
+encounter with her hero was stuffy and very hot.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle was restless and wakeful. She tossed and turned and tried to
+banish all thoughts of the Irishman, but it was no use. She leaned out
+of her upper berth to gaze down upon the sleeping features of Miss
+Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How wonderful to be so old that you don&rsquo;t care about handsome
+Irishmen!&rdquo; mused Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later she decided that, unless she had
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg&nbsp;218]</a></span>
+
+some air, she would perish. She made a most careful descent from her
+perch, without waking her companion. She opened the door cautiously, and
+put her head out. It was a trifle cooler in the passageway. Her watch
+reported three o&rsquo;clock. There would be no one awake at that
+hour.</p>
+
+<p>She put on her slippers, and the tight little orange-and-black Chinese
+cloak. She left the door open, and went into the corridor. She walked up
+and down, up and down, trying to believe that she was cooler. It was
+rather spooky! Several stateroom doors stood open, and the sound of
+sleepers&mdash;breathing evenly, or snoring&mdash;came to her as she passed.</p>
+
+<p>Finally she turned in at her own door, slipped off the Chinese coat, and
+laid it across the chair. She moved very quietly not to disturb Miss
+Watts. She put her foot on the extreme edge of the lower berth to mount,
+when the boat rolled and threw her off her balance. To save herself from
+falling, she put out her hand; it descended upon the upturned face&mdash;it
+should have been the face of Miss Watts, but it was not. Her hand fell
+upon a moustache! With one bound Isabelle was out of the door, into the
+passageway, and into the next open door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Watts!&rdquo; she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, what is it?&rdquo;&mdash;sleepily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, nothing. I went out to get a breath of air. I left the door open,
+but I wasn&rsquo;t just sure&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was climbing up into her berth during this explanation. Suddenly a
+hideous thought caused her to collapse on the edge of her bed&mdash;she had
+left her Chinese coat behind!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg&nbsp;219]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</h2>
+
+<p>The day after the loss of her Chinese coat was the last day at sea. They
+were to land sometime in the morning. When she woke from her troubled
+dreams, Isabelle&rsquo;s thought was that she would stay in her stateroom
+until it was time to disembark. She could not decide whether to tell
+Miss Watts the story of her mistake and ask her advice, or whether it
+was sufficiently disgraceful to be kept a secret.</p>
+
+<p>She reviewed it for the thousandth time,&mdash;the open doors, all alike, the
+entrance into the wrong one, her leisurely disposal of her coat, and
+then her hand planted firmly in the middle of that strange face&mdash;that
+moustached face! Could he have seen her and recognized her in the moment
+she stood before him? It was dark in the room, except for a dim light
+from the corridor. Was there anything about the coat which could
+identify her? Should she give the stewardess twenty-five dollars and
+tell her to get it, and answer no questions? But how would she explain
+its being in that room? It was simple enough to her, how it got there,
+but you never could tell how other people would take a thing. She
+decided to let the coat remain, and tell no one of the incident.</p>
+
+<p>But granted that there was no way for the man to identify her, why need
+she hide? It was a beautiful warm
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg&nbsp;220]</a></span>
+
+day and the cabin was stuffy. No, she would go forth and count the
+number of men aboard who wore moustaches.</p>
+
+<p><i>He wore one!!!</i></p>
+
+<p>It flashed into her mind in italics! Captain Larry O&rsquo;Leary wore one!
+Suppose&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;! She blushed at the thought, and began hurriedly to dress.
+Miss Watts had already gone forth for a promenade before breakfast.
+Arrayed in one of her white linen suits and a close boyish white hat,
+Isabelle fared forth to join her companion. But half way down the deck,
+she hesitated, for her companion was already companioned. None other
+than the gallant Captain O&rsquo;Leary strode the deck by her side. Before
+Isabelle could flee, they turned suddenly and saw her. They came toward
+her. Two feet from where she stood, the Captain halted, bowed, said
+audibly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thus far, and no farther, Miss Watts. Here lies the safety line.&rdquo; He
+indicated an imaginary line with an immaculate boot.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts looked her surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know Captain O&rsquo;Leary, Isabelle? Surely I saw you talking. Miss
+Bryce, Captain O&rsquo;Leary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He bowed gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Bryce,&rdquo; he said, formally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain O&rsquo;Leary,&rdquo; she replied, looking intently at his moustache.</p>
+
+<p>He passed his hand over his face slowly with inquiry in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; mumbled Isabelle, blushing.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg&nbsp;221]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know. I remind ye of somebody. I always remind everybody of
+somebody,&rdquo; he added, with his pleasant suggestion of brogue.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle seized upon the opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do, rather. Isn&rsquo;t he like Patsy Reilly, the gardener&rsquo;s boy at The
+Beeches, Miss Watts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why no!&rdquo; exploded Miss Watts. &ldquo;Certainly not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Captain laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I told ye so. Mine is the universal physiognomy! Stuffy night, wasn&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo; he added, changing the subject abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle glanced at him quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t find it so,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Coming to breakfast, Miss Watts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Walk round the deck with us once, as an appetizer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks. I&rsquo;m famished.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Bryce would rather devour an Irishman as an appetizer before
+breakfast. &lsquo;Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Irishman&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d prefer an Englishman, or a German!&rdquo; retorted Isabelle, as she
+nodded and led the way to breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>She pondered his remark about the stuffy night with a fluttering heart.
+Did he know? Did he suspect her? She watched men with moustaches, and
+tried to listen to their conversation. There were a good many English
+officers aboard with the regulation hirsute adornment of the upper lip.
+True to our custom of following English fashions, more than half the
+American men aboard had diminutive twisted affairs on the upper lip.
+There was no use trying to identify &ldquo;the man&rdquo; by the moustache.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg&nbsp;222]</a></span>
+
+She listened for conversation verging upon the Far
+East&mdash;incidentally Chinese embroideries&mdash;but in vain.</p>
+
+<p>She watched her chance when no one was about, to consult the ship
+register to see what men were in that corridor. She discovered five
+English officers were in that tier. In short they arrived, and
+disembarked without Isabelle finding a single clue to the gentleman who
+had her treasured coat.</p>
+
+<p>Captain O&rsquo;Leary was civil about their baggage, and getting them a
+vehicle to go to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are ye sure that ye have everything that belongs to ye?&rdquo; he inquired,
+his eyes on Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>What did he mean? Did he mean anything except what he said?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, thanks,&rdquo; replied Miss Watts. &ldquo;So glad you are staying at our
+hotel. We&rsquo;ll see you later,&rdquo; she added, and they rode off, leaving him
+smiling after them, bare-headed in the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Most charming man I ever met!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Umm-m,&rdquo; said Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>It was like a miracle to step out on to the terrace of the hotel, after
+dinner that night. To have left New York on a cold, raw fall day, and in
+two days to find oneself in this warm, odorous night air. The band
+played, and white-clad figures walked, danced, sat in groups over
+coffee. Everywhere relaxed, happy, laughing people.</p>
+
+<p>It was not the season on the island but so many English officers came to
+recuperate here, so many Americans, shut
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg&nbsp;223]</a></span>
+
+out of Europe, came down from New York for a week or so, that it was
+unusually gay.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington and Captain O&rsquo;Leary were dancing when Miss Watts and
+Isabelle entered the large gallery at the edge of the platform. Mrs.
+Darlington was regal in evening dress, and the pair attracted much
+attention as they danced. The Captain bowed as he passed and evidently
+spoke to his partner about them, for she glanced back at them. She
+shrugged her shoulders, and he led her in their direction.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lovely night, isn&rsquo;t it? Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington, Miss Watts and Miss Bryce,&rdquo; he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I tried to meet Miss Bryce on the boat, but she snubbed me,&rdquo; laughed
+Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington, making Isabelle feel very young and crude.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle frowned and made no denial, so Captain O&rsquo;Leary remarked:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you disdain the dance, Miss Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you honour me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle glanced at Miss Watts, who looked uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle is not out yet. Her mother wishes her to be inconspicuous
+here,&rdquo; she began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Imagine Isabelle inconspicuous,&rdquo; laughed Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington again.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle decided that she hated her!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s different out here&mdash;it&rsquo;s not a ball room, ye know. It&rsquo;s just
+dancin&rsquo; round,&rdquo; said the Irishman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s true. Oh, I think it would be all right,&rdquo;
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg&nbsp;224]</a></span>
+
+agreed Miss Watts, unable to deny him the moon, if he asked for
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The next then, Miss Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>He went away with his partner, who was decidedly bored with the
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surly little thing,&rdquo; she remarked, audibly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is certainly a beautiful woman,&rdquo; Miss Watts remarked, looking after
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beautiful? Oh, yes, if you like a vamp.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Vampire; you see them in movies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle!&rdquo; protested the older woman.</p>
+
+<p>They strolled about, drank in the rich tropical perfume of the night,
+and looked off to where the sea lay&mdash;huge, mysterious, and
+musical&mdash;lipping the beach. There was a moon and the stars hung low and
+yellow in a deep blue velvet sky.</p>
+
+<p>The band swung into a waltz, and the dancers began to revolve.
+Isabelle&rsquo;s heart beat an extra tap or two. She saw Captain O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s
+closely cropped head in the distance. He caught sight of her, and
+hurried toward them with that swinging, marching gait of his. He bowed
+and offered his arm. Isabelle took it in silence and they went to the
+dancing floor.</p>
+
+<p>She looked like a little girl in her straight white gown, and the top of
+her head came well below his shoulder. They glided off without a word.
+The Captain was an accomplished dancer, also he danced because he loved
+it. In the same way it was speech to Isabelle; it expressed
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg&nbsp;225]</a></span>
+
+her, it was a natural gift. They were like one person, moved by one
+will. Encore followed encore. Only once was a word exchanged between
+them; and then, as they waited for the music to begin again, she lifted
+shining eyes to his, and he leaned toward her quickly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye little moonbeam!&rdquo; he said, softly.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went on again. Time and space were not, for Isabelle. She was
+a part of elemental Nature&mdash;a part of sea and sky and deep bosomed
+tropical night. Even as Larry O&rsquo;Leary had said, she was a child of the
+lady moon, a beam of her silver light.</p>
+
+<p>When, finally, it was over, they found Miss Watts waiting for them, a
+few steps away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here I am,&rdquo; she said, in her usual voice, as if the whole world had not
+changed its face. &ldquo;You had a nice long dance, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wonderful!&rdquo; said the Irishman, in a voice that thrilled. &ldquo;Now we&rsquo;re
+getting acquainted,&ldquo; he added, bending down to Isabelle. &rdquo;I thank you,
+Miss Moonbeam,&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle smiled at him. She had not said one word since he led her
+forth. She felt a little dizzy with everything. Speech was unnecessary.
+He left them, then, and Miss Watts smiled at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you enjoy it, Isabelle?&rdquo; she asked pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; flashed the girl, unexpectedly. &ldquo;I am going to bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s sensible. We will enjoy our sleep to-night in a real bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Isabelle was not thinking of sleep!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg&nbsp;226]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SIX" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SIX"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</h2>
+
+<p>The next morning floated in upon Isabelle&rsquo;s senses, warm and fragrant.
+She felt that this was to be one of the most important days of her life.
+She loved and she was loved at last! It never entered her head that
+there could be any doubt of Captain O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s feelings for her. He had
+called her, tenderly, &ldquo;little moonbeam,&rdquo; and in one long rapturous dance
+it had come to them that the meaning of life was love.</p>
+
+<p>She dressed in a daze of happiness, in the knowledge that presently she
+was to see him again. How would they meet? Where? What would the odious
+Darlington woman say when she knew that &ldquo;the surly little thing&rdquo; had
+captured her captain?</p>
+
+<p>She took great pains with her toilet, stared at herself long in the
+glass. She wished she were beautiful, like Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington, or Max. He
+deserved the most radiant creature in the world! How could he care for a
+plain mite like herself? <i>Did</i> he?</p>
+
+<p>In a sudden collapse into deep depression she sought Miss Watts and
+hurried her downstairs. No signs of him in the breakfast room. Later she
+led Miss Watts up and down every veranda, but a complete survey of the
+grounds brought no results.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg&nbsp;227]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;We ought not to exercise so violently right after breakfast, Isabelle.
+Let us sit down in the shade for a little.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle agreed; it did not matter to her what they did just now, and
+these seats gave a view of every one who came out of the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall we do to-day?&rdquo; inquired Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know&rdquo;&mdash;indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>Some people were coming out now. A tall woman, a girl, and a boy. The
+girl stared at Isabelle and then advanced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you Isabelle Bryce?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Agnes Pollock!&rdquo; exclaimed Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>Introductions and explanations followed. The girls had known each other
+at Hill Top School. Agnes was convalescing from an appendicitis
+operation. She was with her mother and her brother, who greeted Isabelle
+cordially.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heard a lot about you!&rdquo; said Percy Pollock, who was a beautiful blond
+person, slightly older than the girls. &ldquo;You were the terror at Hill Top,
+weren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t have much chance. I was only there one year,&rdquo; laughed
+Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you&rsquo;ll wake up this dull isle,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dull?&rdquo; cried Isabelle, blushing furiously at her tone.</p>
+
+<p>They all sat down together, in the aimless way of holiday makers, but
+Isabelle&rsquo;s eyes were ever on the door. Where was the man? Did he lie
+abed all morning? And such a morning!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, let&rsquo;s go for a walk down the beach. I&rsquo;ve such heaps to tell
+you about Hill Top.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg&nbsp;228]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good idea,&rdquo; said Percy, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not you. Just Isabelle and me. We want to talk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;think I won&rsquo;t this morning. I&mdash;I&rsquo;d rather not,&rdquo; began Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>Then she stopped short. He, the Son of the Morning, was coming forth.
+She scarcely noticed that Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington was with him. Her face was
+suddenly so radiant that the others turned to look. He saw them. Now he
+would come to her&mdash;show them how it was between them!</p>
+
+<p>But he did no such thing. He bowed, a trifle absently, and passed within
+a few feet of them&mdash;near enough for them to hear him say:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Paula, ever young and ever fair!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They also saw the ravishing look she threw him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a handsome man!&rdquo; exclaimed Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady-killer, I bet you,&rdquo; jeered Percy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, Agnes, let&rsquo;s go for that walk on the beach,&rdquo; cried Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>She started off almost before any one understood her purpose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hi there! are you trailing me behind?&rdquo; called Percy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Isabelle, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Agnes hurried after her, and when they had tramped the beach for a
+while, they sat down in the sand. Agnes remembered that Isabelle was
+&ldquo;queer,&rdquo; but there was something passionate about the way she threw
+herself into their reminiscences, that struck her as unnecessary. They
+spoke of Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, with tears on Agnes&rsquo;s part. She told of Mr.
+Benjamin&rsquo;s pitiful efforts to go on with the school. He had been forced
+to give up the
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg&nbsp;229]</a></span>
+
+struggle, and Agnes lamented the necessity of going to a new school when
+she returned to New York.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now tell me about you,&rdquo; she demanded. &ldquo;Why are you out of school?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hated the school they sent me to last year, so this year I struck and
+went on the stage for a while.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Isabelle Bryce!&rdquo; cried her friend, thrilled to the bone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I didn&rsquo;t like it; it made me sick. So I, too came down here to get
+well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She evaded questions on the subject of her stage career, and after some
+desultory talk they went back to the hotel. People were strolling to the
+beach for the bathing hour.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s find Percy and go in,&rdquo; said Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle, having agreed to meet them on the beach, hurried off to
+change. Miss Watts went down to the sea with her; she did not wait for
+Agnes and Percy. She struck out for the farther raft. There was one a
+hundred feet from shore, and one farther out, for expert swimmers. She
+had just passed the former when she became aware of some one in her
+wake, some one coming with speed. She slowed up a little.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do ye mean by swimmin&rsquo; off alone like this?&rdquo; demanded a well-known
+voice. She made no answer, but she did not increase her speed. He came
+up beside her. &ldquo;This is plain childish folly, that&rsquo;s what it is,&rdquo; he
+blustered.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle rolled on her back and smiled faintly at the sky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye ought to be spanked, ye little devil.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg&nbsp;230]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some people are good at calling names,&rdquo; she remarked to the sky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m tellin&rsquo; ye it&rsquo;s dangerous for you to start off for that far raft
+alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m asking you what business it is of yours?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do ye want me to stand by and see ye drown yerself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s my privilege to drown myself if I like,&rdquo; she replied, as she
+struck off for the raft again. They swam to it in silence, and she
+pulled her slim satin body, like a shining eel, up onto the platform. He
+followed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a very disturbin&rsquo; young person!&rdquo; he said, sternly.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her eyebrows at him, with a baby stare. He looked away with a
+frown.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is &lsquo;Paula! ever young and ever fair&rsquo;?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;Is she
+displaying herself on the beach?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not she. Paula is a very clever woman&mdash;she knows her own limitations,&rdquo;
+he replied. &ldquo;Hello! here comes somebody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It proved to be Major O&rsquo;Dell, the man who had looked after Larry on
+shipboard. He glared at them and climbed aboard the raft.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry, ye fool, what do ye mean by takin&rsquo; such a swim as this on yer
+first day?&rdquo; he demanded, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I came to rescue this young mermaid,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s damfoolishness&mdash;that&rsquo;s what it is. I beg yer pardon,
+Miss&mdash;Miss&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bryce&rdquo; from Larry.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg&nbsp;231]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;This man is here convalescing, and it is folly for him to over-exert
+himself in any such manner,&rdquo; he scolded her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t invite him to come,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;He forced his society on me.
+Now that you&rsquo;re here to tow him in, I&rsquo;ll leave him to you,&rdquo; she added;
+and with that she dived off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute. Major O&rsquo;Dell wants to rest,&rdquo; cried the Captain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let him. Let him rest a month,&rdquo; came back the answer, as the shining
+head turned toward the distant shore.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to go after her, O&rsquo;Dell. It isn&rsquo;t safe,&rdquo; protested Larry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who appointed you her nurse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Damn it! man, the child might drown.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He went overboard and started after Isabelle. O&rsquo;Dell, with a
+far-from-pretty word, followed. In some such procession they finally
+arrived at the beach. Isabelle stepped forth, shook her slim black self,
+ran up the beach and back like a colt, and joined Miss Watts, sedate as
+a debutante. Captain O&rsquo;Leary approached them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Watts,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;it is none of my affair, of course, but if you
+have any authority over this young woman, you will forbid her to swim
+alone to the farther raft.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle grinned at him, but he frowned and walked away without another
+word.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle spent the rest of the day near the hotel that she might be at
+hand if he came out, but there were no signs of him. Percy Pollock had
+introduced two boys,
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg&nbsp;232]</a></span>
+
+who urged the girls on all sorts of expeditions, but Isabelle was
+adamant. She could not bother with boys if there was any chance of
+another encounter.</p>
+
+<p>Major O&rsquo;Dell came out on the terrace, saw her, and strolled over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I speak to you, Miss Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She joined him and they walked over to a seat by a wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish to apologize for being so short-tempered this morning,&rdquo; he
+began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you were,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain O&rsquo;Leary has been in bed since that junket you took him on this
+morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t take him,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;he came.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is in no condition to endure such a strain. I ask you not to let him
+do such a thing again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not his mother,&rdquo; she burst out. &ldquo;He is old enough to take care of
+himself and I do not intend to act as his trained nurse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked&mdash;and sounded&mdash;so young that Major O&rsquo;Dell laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right. I&rsquo;ll tell him. You were on our boat, weren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you travel much, Miss Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, not much. Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you ever been in the Far East?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at him quickly. He was twisting the ends of his little
+moustache and gazing off to sea. Heavens! was this the man? She had
+almost forgotten the
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg&nbsp;233]</a></span>
+
+Chinese coat in the emotions which had swept her since landing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Far East?&rdquo; she managed to repeat with a semblance of indifference.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the Philippines, Japan, or China.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;ve never been there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Um. You should go. Full of treasures, jewels, embroideries,
+brocades&mdash;all the things that women like&rdquo;&mdash;he continued, looking
+directly at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So?&rdquo; queried Isabelle, obviously bored.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I am keeping you from your friends. So I&rsquo;m to look elsewhere
+for a nurse for Captain O&rsquo;Leary?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you try Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington?&rdquo; she inquired. Then with a nod, she
+went back to her playmates.</p>
+
+<p>An hour or so later a group of people, Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington among them, took
+a near-by table for tea. Major O&rsquo;Dell and Captain O&rsquo;Leary, the latter
+looking very white, came out and joined them. They did not look in her
+direction until she heard Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington remark:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry, just see what a collection of little boys your ugly duckling has
+made.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this they all looked. Isabelle glanced at her little boys, and said
+something that made them shout with laughter. But it was not so loud but
+that the wind carried her his reply:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s not <i>my</i> ugly duckling. She&rsquo;s a wicked little leprechaun, born
+under a mushroom, on a black night, but she swims like a fish, and
+dances like a pixie. I tell ye she&rsquo;s not human at all at all!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She heard their laughter, and her eyes smarted. What
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg&nbsp;234]</a></span>
+
+a fool he had made of her! How she despised herself. There was only one
+way to square it, to get back her self-respect. She would find out what
+a leprechaun meant, and she would bedevil the honourable Captain
+O&rsquo;Leary, like the pixie that he named her!</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg&nbsp;235]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</h2>
+
+<p>Bright-coloured days followed, like beads slipping along a thread.
+Isabelle did not formulate any plan of bedevilment for the Captain, but
+she watched for opportunities with lynx-eyed attention.</p>
+
+<p>She and Agnes were very intimate, and while Isabelle was not given to
+confidences, she allowed her friend to see that there was something
+between her and the handsome O&rsquo;Leary&mdash;a sort of flirtatious feud. Agnes
+adored him from afar, and envied the other girl her power to attract
+him. She did not understand just what Isabelle wanted of him, but she
+stood ready to help her get it.</p>
+
+<p>Early in their friendship Agnes had fired Isabelle with a new zeal. She
+told her about the wonderful patriotic work to be done by writing
+letters to soldiers, who had no relatives, and to keep them cheered up.
+She, Agnes, had become <i>marraine</i> to half a dozen Frenchmen; she
+considered them more exciting than plain English &ldquo;Tommies&rdquo; or American
+&ldquo;Sammies.&rdquo; Besides, it was good practice for your French. You made them
+presents, sent cigarettes and candy, and they sent you back the most
+thrilling letters.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg&nbsp;236]</a></span></p>
+<p>Agnes displayed some of hers, in confidence, and at once Isabelle felt
+the call of duty to rescue a French soldier. She could not wait to go
+through with the formality of applying to the organization in charge of
+this work, for names of the letter-needy; instead, she borrowed two from
+Agnes. She chose the two who wrote the most picturesque letters and
+&ldquo;adopted&rdquo; them at once.</p>
+
+<p>Together they worked out her first letters, telling the gentlemen in
+question of the transfer of god-mothers. After much consideration she
+adopted the tone of maternal concern for their comfort and welfare, with
+a cheerful optimism intended to be elderly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jean&rdquo; and &ldquo;Edouard&rdquo; were told of life in Bermuda; pictures (cut from
+society weeklies) of the island and the people there were enclosed for
+their entertainment. Cigarettes and candy were promised at once and the
+letters despatched with much excitement.</p>
+
+<p>The other patriotic offering which grew out of this beginning was the
+preparation of gift boxes for the soldiers. Not knitted things, but
+things intended to amuse them. The girls searched every gift shop and
+delighted in the discovery of some new trinket for &ldquo;their sons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime an earnest contest for Isabelle&rsquo;s favour was going on
+between Percy and one of his friends, Jack Porter. She accepted their
+attentions indifferently, played with them when it was convenient, and
+disposed of them cruelly when it was not. She loved to dance and, as
+they both danced well, they were useful after dinner; unless, of course,
+Captain O&rsquo;Leary danced with her more than once, which sometimes
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>Major O&rsquo;Dell had shown signs of appreciating her talents since her brief
+encounter with him on the raft
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg&nbsp;237]</a></span>
+
+and later. She decided to cultivate him, and&mdash;eventually&mdash;to
+ask him for her Chinese coat.</p>
+
+<p>Major O&rsquo;Dell asked her to take tea with him one day. Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington,
+and a Miss Devoe, who made eyes at O&rsquo;Leary, were also his guests. The
+Captain, and the fat little man, named Monty Haven, who had been on the
+ship, were there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve captured a charming recruit,&rdquo; said the host as he presented
+Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know that you could be captured, Miss Bryce,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+Darlington, insolently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It takes the military!&rdquo; retorted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. Plain civilians haven&rsquo;t a chance with you girls any more,
+have we?&rdquo; Haven asked Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not much,&rdquo; she agreed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What could a nice fellow like me do to get into the running, Miss
+Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you train down?&rdquo; she answered, literally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Miss Bryce! you&rsquo;re stepping on Haven&rsquo;s toes,&rdquo; laughed Captain
+O&rsquo;Leary.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Am I?&rdquo; she said, peering under the table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The dear, ingenuous little thing,&rdquo; said Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington, tartly.</p>
+
+<p>She turned and deliberately engaged the men next her in an aside. She
+had no intention of letting this impertinent miss occupy the entire
+attention during tea.</p>
+
+<p>Captain O&rsquo;Leary turned to the protection of Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t seen much of you lately,&rdquo; he began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg&nbsp;238]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see you are always followed by a retinue of boys. No chance for an
+old fellow like me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The young ones <i>are</i> more diverting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the blond Adonis, me chief rival?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You refer to Percy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Percy? Am I to be cut out by a youth named Percy?&rdquo; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are&mdash;if you don&rsquo;t look out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never! What can I do to reinstate meself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t expect me to think up ways.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does Percy do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ask him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me two dances to-night, and take a walk with me in the morning,&rdquo;
+he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I make no promises. You will have to take your chances&rdquo;&mdash;airily.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Devoe, on O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s other side, said audibly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give her a spoon to play with, Larry, and pay some attention to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle leaned across to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I&rsquo;m</i> using him now,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know what Captain O&rsquo;Leary calls you?&rdquo; retorted Miss Devoe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&rdquo;&mdash;with great interest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A leprechaun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <i>sounds</i> naughty,&rdquo; said Isabelle, turning reproachful eyes upon him;
+&ldquo;<i>is</i> it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very,&rdquo; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is just his pet name for me. What does he call you?&rdquo; she inquired
+of Miss Devoe.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg&nbsp;239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Miss Devoe ignored the rejoinder, by whispering to Larry. Isabelle
+turned to Major O&rsquo;Dell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better talk to me about something. I don&rsquo;t seem to be a popular
+favourite.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yours is the unforgivable sin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Youth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But they are much prettier than I am, every one of them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take your eyes and your tongue, thanks,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s take a
+look at the sunset.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They rose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are ye going, you two?&rdquo; inquired O&rsquo;Leary.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sunsetting,&rdquo; replied Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>Then, turning to the ladies, she made a curtsey.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good afternoon,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord, that was wonderful!&rdquo; exclaimed the Major.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;&mdash;innocently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know what, ye clever little rascal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>Captain O&rsquo;Leary got only one of his dances that night, but he announced
+his intention of taking her to walk on the beach at ten the following
+morning. When, at that hour, he presented himself to Miss Watts, she
+looked distressed&mdash;thought Isabelle must have misunderstood, for she had
+gone off to walk with Percy Pollock.</p>
+
+<p>The Captain thanked her and set off in pursuit. He was annoyed at
+himself for being annoyed with this chit of a girl. But she should not
+play tricks with him!
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg&nbsp;240]</a></span>
+
+In due course of time he spied them ahead of him. He increased his speed
+and caught up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good morning,&rdquo; he said, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, good morning, Captain O&rsquo;Leary,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Watts gave me your message.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Message?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That you would meet me here. By the way, Pollock, your mother asked me
+to say that something important came for ye in the morning mails. She
+wants ye at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a firm and masterly hand he detached Percy and sent him off. Then
+he turned to Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye can play tricks on Percy and your other youngsters, but not on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t the slightest interest in playing tricks on you,&rdquo; she
+answered. She sat down, opened a parasol, and planted it in the sand. He
+threw himself down beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a very interesting little girl,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;but you have a
+great deal to learn.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Teach me!&rdquo; she exclaimed, with such ingenuous enthusiasm that he was at
+a loss to know whether she was making fun of him or not.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will. First, you mustn&rsquo;t be so pricklish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the only way to protect yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Against what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;People.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye start on the basis that people are your enemies?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think they are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, tell me about yourself. What shall I call you? Do I have to
+say &lsquo;Miss Bryce&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My name is Isabelle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg&nbsp;241]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t suit ye. Have ye no pet name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Somebody I liked once called me &lsquo;the cricket&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it&mdash;Cricket&mdash;may I call ye that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Cricket, tell me all about yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him intently for a moment. He lay stretched out on the
+sand, his elbow crooked to support his head. He looked frankly back at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on, as friend to friend,&rdquo; he urged.</p>
+
+<p>And she did. She did not touch it up a bit. She made him see her life,
+her people, the Benjamins, her experience at Miss
+Vantine&rsquo;s&mdash;all&mdash;through the eyes of her youth, her wistful youth. She
+told him about Martin Christiansen; she even confessed the fearful
+catastrophe with Cartel; and she did not mind when he rolled on his back
+and sent gusts of laughter up to the clouds.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O ye delicious, crickety Cricket!&rdquo; he groaned. &ldquo;Go on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t any &lsquo;on&rsquo;. That&rsquo;s up to now. Tell me about you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he did. He told her about his people, his young life near Dublin.
+How he went to an English University, how he enlisted in the war. He
+told her about his life in the trenches, about his wounds, about his
+decoration. He talked as he had talked to no one else about the whole
+experience of war.</p>
+
+<p>She sat tense and still, concentrated on his every word. When he had
+finished, they sat in silence for several seconds.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And that&rsquo;s up to now, for me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg&nbsp;242]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to go back?&mdash;there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I&rsquo;m well again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her tell-tale face registered her distress. He laid his hand over her
+little brown one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not for a while. I shall often think of this place and this day,&rdquo; he
+said, gazing off over the sea. &ldquo;Ye&rsquo;re a comfortable cricket, when ye
+want to be. I&rsquo;d like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter w600"><a href="images/i253.jpg">
+<img class="noborder" src="images/i253b.jpg" alt="&ldquo;Ye&rsquo;re a comfortable cricket, when ye want to be. I&rsquo;d like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!&rdquo;" title="&ldquo;Ye&rsquo;re a comfortable cricket, when ye want to be. I&rsquo;d like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!&rdquo;" /></a>
+<span class="caption"><i>&ldquo;Ye&rsquo;re a comfortable cricket, when ye want to be. I&rsquo;d like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!&rdquo;</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>She sprang up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m not ready to settle yet, so your hearth must go bare.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Like Mother Hubbard&rsquo;s cupboard! Where are ye hoppin&rsquo; off to?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hotel, for lunch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it time?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. He fell in step beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye haven&rsquo;t missed Percy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder what Percy&rsquo;s mother wanted with him,&rdquo; she evaded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So does Percy&rsquo;s mother,&rdquo; he retorted.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did, Cricket; I jumped a longer jump than you did,&rdquo; he boasted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, you old grasshopper!&rdquo; she exploded.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg&nbsp;243]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</h2>
+
+<p>Miss Watts found Isabelle more reasonable, more amenable than ever
+before in their association, and as she had made some pleasant
+acquaintances, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She hoped their stay
+would be long. In her reports to the Bryces she conscientiously
+mentioned Isabelle&rsquo;s good behaviour and her improvement in health.</p>
+
+<p>She watched the career of her charge with interest and some concern. She
+saw with surprise that the girl had hit upon the only possible way of
+intriguing the interest of a spoiled darling like Captain O&rsquo;Leary. She
+flitted like a will-o&rsquo;-the-wisp before him.</p>
+
+<p>Larry thought that their talk on the beach had established a new
+relation, but he soon found that he could not rely on it. When she was
+particularly annoying he reminded her how sweet she had been that day,
+but all she could recall of it was that he had cut Percy out! If he
+ignored her completely, suddenly she was like a soft little rabbit in
+his hands, all heart-beat. She puzzled and annoyed him.</p>
+
+<p>These were busy days for Isabelle. Percy and Jack were always under
+foot. They furnished comic relief when her military intrigue threatened
+to become serious. Then her &ldquo;god-son,&rdquo; Jean Jacques Petard, who was
+wounded
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg&nbsp;244]</a></span>
+
+and in a hospital, replied to her maternal solicitude with prolonged and
+passionate devotion. Isabelle shared the treasure with Agnes, who
+protested that none of her godsons wrote to her like that; and she asked
+to have Jean back. Isabelle stoutly refused. A gift was a gift. Agnes
+had given her Jean and she intended to keep him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you took my two best ones.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You gave me my choice, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and I was a silly to do it. I might have known you&rsquo;d take the best
+ones&rdquo;&mdash;hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you had letters from him. You say yourself he never wrote to you
+like that. It&rsquo;s <i>me</i> he&rsquo;s writing to, not you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, of all the conceited things!&rdquo; cried Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad I am. I&rsquo;ll give you Edouard back, if you&rsquo;re going to make such
+a row.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right, that settles it. It wouldn&rsquo;t be fair to Jean to give him
+back to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fair! Lots you care about fair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it&rsquo;s fair to pass a soldier of France&mdash;one of our
+allies&mdash;back and forth between mothers, like a bean-bag?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have nothing more to say. I have found you out, Isabelle Bryce. I
+give to you generously, and you prove a false friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes walked away with her face flushed and her head high. It was too
+bad to be treated like this when you were doing your patriotic duty. She
+brooded on the
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg&nbsp;245]</a></span>
+
+matter for several days, avoiding her false friend, and then an idea of
+revenge took possession of her.</p>
+
+<p>Chance played into her hands at the moment, by putting into her lap a
+copy of a fashionable magazine. It had two pages of pictures of the
+idlers at Bermuda. An enlarged snapshot of Isabelle coming out of the
+sea, was featured with a brief biographic sketch of her meteoric career
+as actress, of her family, and her wealth. Agnes cut this out, enclosing
+it with an anonymous letter to Petard. She told of the miserable trick
+played upon him. Isabelle was only seventeen and a half, and in no way
+fit to be a god-mother to him. She was infatuated with him, and
+pretended to be old, so she would have an excuse to write him.</p>
+
+<p>This malicious mischief mailed and headed for France, Agnes felt better,
+and awaited results. She would make up with Isabelle in time to hear
+what Jean Jacques Petard would say now. She hoped he would denounce her
+as a traitor!</p>
+
+<p>So far as Isabelle was concerned, Agnes and her injured feelings were of
+no moment. It was a trifle awkward when Percy and Jack arranged a
+foursome, but by strict formality of intercourse, they managed the
+situation. The boys were soon aware of it, and found much amusement in
+urging the combatants to battle. Percy tried to pump Agnes as to the
+cause of the rupture, but nothing could unseal her lips on the secret.
+She could imagine what those boys would do if they knew the truth. So
+poor Agnes suffered in silence, nursed her secret triumph, and staged
+the moment of Isabelle&rsquo;s downfall.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg&nbsp;246]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Major O&rsquo;Dell, whom by this time Isabelle counted a friend, approached
+one day as she dallied with her two admirers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I impersonate Mercury, bearing an invitation,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do anything with you, Major O&rsquo;Dell, but I don&rsquo;t want to play with
+your crowd.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like the women. They pick on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry and I will protect you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have the permission of the amiable Miss Watts. It is all arranged.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monty Haven&rsquo;s yacht is at anchor and he wants you to come for a sail
+and lunch aboard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sorry. I&rsquo;m engaged to-day with Percy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I add that a certain gentleman, not at the moment in your good
+graces, entreats you to come?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sorry. You wouldn&rsquo;t let me off, would you, Percy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&rdquo;&mdash;firmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas! This is final?&rdquo; asked the Major.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Convey my thanks to Mr.&nbsp;Haven, please, dear Major O&rsquo;Dell, and
+mention&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Percy&rsquo;,&rdquo; he interrupted with a smile, and left.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did you put it on me for?&rdquo; complained Percy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come down on the beach and watch them go,&rdquo; ordered Isabelle, leading
+the way.</p>
+
+<p>They sat them down and watched preparations on the
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg&nbsp;247]</a></span>
+
+yacht. A motor boat came ashore and carried off the guests.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now aren&rsquo;t you sorry?&rdquo; said Percy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nope.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The motor boat presently put off again&mdash;in their direction. It came as
+near shore as it dared, and stopped. Captain O&rsquo;Leary stepped overboard
+into the shallow water, and advanced upon the puzzled three. He bowed,
+leaned over, picked up Miss Isabelle Bryce in his arms, and marched into
+the sea and toward the boat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hi there! what are you doing?&rdquo; cried Percy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come and get me, you big idiots!&rdquo; called Isabelle over O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>The two boys plunged in. O&rsquo;Leary laughed and ran. He set her in the
+boat, jumped in himself, and they were off, leaving the two swains hip
+deep and helpless.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle turned smouldering eyes on the Captain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cricket, my dear,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I feel that there is an excess of Percy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She blazed in silent fury.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cricket, don&rsquo;t be cross. It was only a joke to tease your beaux. They
+were funny, standin&rsquo; there in their neat white flannels, weren&rsquo;t they
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>They were received with a shout of delight from the boat. Haven met them
+at the rail and greeted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry, you win!&rdquo; he shouted, and they all shook hands with the Captain
+and beat him on the back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Win?&rdquo; inquired Isabelle.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg&nbsp;248]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Major O&rsquo;Dell bet Larry that he couldn&rsquo;t get you aboard and Larry took
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Major O&rsquo;Dell, that wasn&rsquo;t fair,&rdquo; cried Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>They all stared at him, and she added with a chuckle:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It happened just as we planned it, didn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you put something up on me, O&rsquo;Dell?&rdquo; cried Larry. &ldquo;Ye cheat&mdash;ye old
+pirate!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He fell upon him, and a rough-and-tumble inaugurated the party. When
+O&rsquo;Dell found a chance he joined Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You little witch!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ye certainly made a booby of ole Larry.
+But don&rsquo;t you be coming between me and my best friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t if he keeps out of my way,&rdquo; she blazed, &ldquo;but I&rsquo;m mad!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Twas only a joke. We wanted ye to come. For my sake, be nice and
+funny, an&rsquo; like yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; she answered amiably. &ldquo;But you owe me something, if I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Name it, and it&rsquo;s yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s mine already. I want my Chinese coat back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stared at her for a full second.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is yours, then?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I told him it was&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Told <i>him</i>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t my room ye left it in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No? How did you know, then?&rdquo;&mdash;in alarm.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg&nbsp;249]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;The man who found it asked every woman aboard and never thought of
+you, because&mdash;well&mdash;you&rsquo;re such a baby,&rdquo; he added, staring.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that got to do with it? I went out in the corridor to get some
+air, and I went in the wrong door, by mistake. I took off my coat, and
+started to climb up to my berth, when the boat joggled, and I put my
+hand on <i>a moustache</i>! I was so scared that I ran off without my coat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Major began to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the joke?&rdquo; inquired Larry, joining them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a secret between Major O&rsquo;Dell and me. On your sacred honour,
+Major, you won&rsquo;t tell,&rdquo; said Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On my sacred honour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go away, O&rsquo;Dell, and let me make my peace with the Cricket.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Major O&rsquo;Dell, you will stay, if you please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>True to her promise to O&rsquo;Dell, she played up and kept them all amused,
+but she never so much as looked at Larry. Thoroughly annoyed, he devoted
+himself conspicuously to Mrs.&nbsp;Darlington and Miss Devoe. But he might
+have been in China for all the impression his flirtation made on
+Isabelle. They landed late in the afternoon, with the Bryce-O&rsquo;Leary feud
+still on.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle told the story of her capture to Miss Watts, but with that
+lady&rsquo;s perverted English sense of humour, she thought O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s prank
+was funny. She knew that she ought to disapprove of it, but she only
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle went off to read a letter which she found awaiting her, from
+her god-son Jean. It proved rather a surprise. She read it twice. It was
+undeniably a love-letter. In
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg&nbsp;250]</a></span>
+
+it he told her&mdash;that he adored her in a great many ways and a great
+many times. He had known all along that she was not old, and now that he
+saw how young she was, how lovely&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. it went on and on. He wished to
+address her father at once, and ask her hand in marriage. He enclosed a
+photograph of himself; he was quite good looking. It was a thrilling
+letter, but it took her breath away. How could he know she was young and
+lovely?</p>
+
+<p>She answered it instantly, tearing up many sheets of paper in the
+process. She assured him that he was mistaken, that she was too old to
+think of marriage, even if she loved him&mdash;which she could not say she
+did, because she didn&rsquo;t know him. Her father was long since dead, so he
+could not address him, etc., etc. In short, unless he could think of her
+as his devoted <i>marraine</i> they must end the correspondence, there and
+then.</p>
+
+<p>She despatched it at once, with a resolve to handle &ldquo;her son Jean&rdquo; with
+more restraint in the future. Needless to say she did not mention the
+letter to Agnes, whose overtures to peace she had finally accepted.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>Life went on its interesting way. Captain O&rsquo;Leary made his peace with
+her, too, and lost it again. Major O&rsquo;Dell acted as intermediary in their
+battles. He was delightful, in this capacity, but he would not tell any
+more about the coat. He said he would see that it was returned to her,
+but that it might take some time.</p>
+
+<p>The next letter from Jean Jacques Petard was a flaming torch of passion.
+She might as well drop her disguise. He knew her for her true self. He
+loved her madly;
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg&nbsp;251]</a></span>
+
+he read her love, in the cold lines she forced her pen to write. One
+word of love from her and he would come. He was on convalescent leave
+and at her service.</p>
+
+<p>She was really alarmed now. Nothing but the impossibility of getting a
+cable sent kept her from that extravagance. She wrote him at length. It
+was all a mistake. She admitted that she was young. She told him that
+she did not love him, and that&mdash;deeply grateful though she was for his
+beautiful devotion&mdash;she felt that this must be her last communication to
+him. She added, in the hope of putting an end to his letters, that she
+was about to leave Bermuda. With a sigh of relief she posted this
+dismissal, and at that moment she ceased to be <i>marraine</i> to Jean and
+Edouard. It was too bad that duty should carry so amiss!</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks later, with no explanation or excuse, a cable came from Wally
+to Miss Watts:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come home by next boat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a blow to them both, they were having such a good time. But it
+was &ldquo;theirs not to question why&rdquo;&mdash;so they packed hastily, to catch the
+steamer leaving on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>It happened that hostilities were on at the moment, between Isabelle and
+the Captain. She did not want to leave him without a farewell, nor did
+she want to make overtures toward peace. He was off on Haven&rsquo;s yacht
+when the news of the approaching sudden departure spread about. It
+happened that on his return no one spoke to him about it. Isabelle saw
+him after dinner on the terrace. He lit a cigarette and strolled off
+alone toward
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg&nbsp;252]</a></span>
+
+the gardens. She followed him. He wandered into a sort of kiosk, where
+the view was fine, and she darted in after him, and straight into his
+arms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;good-bye. I hope it isn&rsquo;t for ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He held her to him in complete surprise, and laid his cheek upon her
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cricket,&rdquo; he said softly, &ldquo;little old crickety-Cricket! Good-bye for
+what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She started back and looked up at him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You! You!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Oh! But I thought you were&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not Percy!&rdquo; he exploded.</p>
+
+<p>But she ran away fast, through the garden, and he heard her laughter.</p>
+
+<p>This was the memory that Isabelle carried with her on the way home. It
+was sweet and warm. She was content with it for a while.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>Wally met them at the pier. It was plain that he was excited. After
+hasty greetings, he turned to his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who in thunder is this Frenchman you&rsquo;re engaged to?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; she demanded, startled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jean Jacques Petard visits me; Jean Jacques Petard patrols our house;
+Jean Jacques Petard shadows your mother&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I&mdash;but he isn&rsquo;t&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None of your tricks!&rdquo; ordered Wally. &ldquo;What we want to know is who is
+this Jean Jacques Petard, who demands your hand in marriage?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg&nbsp;253]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-NINE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-NINE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE</h2>
+
+<p>On the way home from the pier Isabelle demanded explanations about the
+Frenchman, but Wally refused to talk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your mother has something to say on the subject. Wait until we get
+home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She and Miss Watts were summoned before the bar of judgment as soon as
+they reached the house. Max met them in the library and after a
+perfunctory greeting opened fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Watts, what does this mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, but I must ask you to be more explicit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Explicit? I send my daughter away in your charge and you bring her back
+engaged to some unknown poilu. Then you ask me to be explicit!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I know nothing of this affair, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce. It is as much a surprise
+to me as it is to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce turned an exasperated look to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; said Isabelle, &ldquo;she doesn&rsquo;t know anything about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how could you get engaged to him without her knowing it? She could
+see him around, couldn&rsquo;t she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he wasn&rsquo;t around. We met no Frenchman in Bermuda,&rdquo; protested Miss
+Watts, utterly at sea.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg&nbsp;254]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you kindly explain this mystery?&rdquo; inquired Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, if you&rsquo;ll keep your temper and let me. In the first place, I&rsquo;m not
+engaged to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He says you are practically engaged and that you love him,&rdquo; contributed
+Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;ve never seen him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;&mdash;in chorus from both parents.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s true.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better have a look at him,&rdquo; said Wally, going, to the window.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle followed him hastily. A man in French uniform gazed up at the
+windows.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Is</i> that Jean Jacques?&rdquo; inquired Isabelle with interest. &ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t bad
+looking, is he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He patrols the block day and night. But get ahead with the plot. What
+hold has he got on you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None,&rdquo; said she, promptly. &ldquo;I merely adopted him as my son.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you crazy?&rdquo; inquired her mother.</p>
+
+<p>Even Miss Watts looked alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m a patriot. Down at Bermuda I met a girl I knew at school, Agnes
+Pollock. She told me about being patriotic, and how she wrote cheerful
+letters to soldiers in the trenches. So I borrowed two from her, Jean
+and Edouard. I wrote them nice motherly letters, about keeping their
+feet dry&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally burst into laughter, but Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce hushed him with a violent
+gesture.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg&nbsp;255]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;They called me &lsquo;<i>Ma ch&egrave;re marraine</i>,&rsquo; and wrote long letters back. It
+was splendid practice for my French,&rdquo; she added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But this man wouldn&rsquo;t be wanting to marry his &lsquo;<i>ch&egrave;re marraine</i>&rsquo;,&rdquo;
+challenged Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. He wrote rather warm letters from the first, but Agnes and I
+decided that he had a warm, appreciative nature.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Little fools! Then what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wrote a very cooling letter, but it didn&rsquo;t work. He was worse than
+ever; he said he knew I was beautiful and young; that he loved me
+madly&mdash;wanted to ask Wally for my hand in marriage, and a lot of stuff
+like that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you accepted him?&mdash;this man you&rsquo;ve never seen?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course I didn&rsquo;t accept him. I told him that I was old; that I didn&rsquo;t
+love him; that Wally was dead, so he couldn&rsquo;t address him; and that that
+was my last letter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again Wally laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Isabelle, why didn&rsquo;t you tell me something of all this?&rdquo; begged
+Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should I boast of doing my bit?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rubbish!&rdquo; exploded her mother. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got yourself into a nice scrape.
+How do we know what she said in these letters?&rdquo; she asked Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;ve told you what I said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t keep copies of them, did you?&rdquo; asked Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, of course not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you got his letters?&rdquo; from her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, in my trunk.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg&nbsp;256]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing to be done until we see them,&rdquo; said Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce,
+impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are private letters, and I must say&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&rdquo; began Isabelle, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You be quiet,&rdquo; ordered her mother, angrily. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t see that you were
+much use, Miss Watts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, I had no idea that this was going on. I knew she wrote
+letters, but I supposed they were to you or to school friends. I did not
+feel it necessary to censor her mail.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to know her well enough by now to know that when she seems to
+be behaving she is doing her worst.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce summoned a maid and ordered Isabelle&rsquo;s trunk to be reported
+the moment it arrived. While they waited Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce interrogated Miss
+Watts as to whom Isabelle had met in Bermuda. Isabelle was at the
+window, gazing from behind the curtain at her admirer, but she noticed
+that Captain O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s name was merely mentioned in a list of the
+English officers they had met.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Isabelle, how about Edouard?&rdquo; whispered Wally, at her elbow.
+&ldquo;Does he think he is engaged to you, too?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She felt the laugh behind his words, so she answered gravely:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Wally, Edouard was a dutiful son.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He chuckled. Max turned at the sound.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t encourage her, Wally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t. It&rsquo;s too late.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry. I disinherited them both,&rdquo; Isabelle assured him.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg&nbsp;257]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did she have any violent love affairs?&rdquo; inquired Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There were two very devoted young men, Percy Pollock and Jack Porter.
+But I thought Isabelle handled them very well,&rdquo; replied Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you engaged to them?&rdquo; whispered Wally again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, I&rsquo;m not engaged to anybody,&rdquo; answered his child.</p>
+
+<p>The maid announced the trunks and Isabelle went in search of her
+treasures. When she returned she carried in each hand a bundle of
+letters tied with ribbons.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Son Jean&rsquo;s,&rdquo; she said, offering one bundle to Max. &ldquo;We need not go over
+Son Edouard&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce began to read. As she finished a page, she handed it to
+Wally, and he in turn passed it to Miss Watts. The two women read
+solemnly, but Wally laughed occasionally. Isabelle sat by, now and then
+taking a peek at the author of this new trouble.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well!&rdquo; remarked Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce when the last tender words had been read.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Going some, Isabelle!&rdquo; added Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have him in,&rdquo; said Max.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no; now, I wouldn&rsquo;t do that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would. Matthews will go across the street and tell him to come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For Heaven&rsquo;s sake, Max, what are you going to do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get her letters back, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, you and Miss Watts go somewhere else and wait,&rdquo; Wally urged,
+as his wife gave the butler instructions.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. I shall stay here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg&nbsp;258]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll do no such thing. You&rsquo;ve done your part, now you leave the rest
+of it to us,&rdquo; ordered her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is my hand he is asking for; those are my letters, and this is my
+affair. I shall stay right here and see it through,&rdquo; Isabelle asserted
+with firm determination.</p>
+
+<p>Max saw that, except by force, there was no way to eject her, and it was
+too late for that, as Matthews was approaching with the Frenchman.</p>
+
+<p>The hero entered with a ceremonious bow. He was good-looking in a
+dare-devil way, with a somewhat dissipated face. His eyes went from one
+to another until they came to Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ah! mon adoree, c&rsquo;est toi!</i>&rdquo; he cried, and before any one could stop
+him, he seized her hands and covered them with kisses.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None of that!&rdquo; shouted Wally, jerking Isabelle away.</p>
+
+<p>Max took command. She spoke, curtly, in French.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Petard, we have read your letters to our daughter, and heard
+her story of her correspondence with you. She is, as you see, a mere
+child. I appeal to you as a soldier and a gentleman, to return her
+letters to us, and to close this painful incident.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I ask you one question. Do you love me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, no,&rdquo; she said, simply, &ldquo;I told you I didn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not believe. Your friend, the Mademoiselle Pollock, she say you
+are infatuate wiz me; she send ze picture; she tell me you are crazy
+about me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Agnes Pollock? Why, the dirty little liar!&rdquo; cried Isabelle.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg&nbsp;259]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;My daughter is a schoolgirl, she knows nothing about love. Will you or
+will you not, give us those letters?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He considered a second.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have come all ze way to zese countree, because of ze lettaires of
+your schoolgirl!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That does not interest us&rdquo;&mdash;firmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No-o? It ees an expenseef voyage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Max looked at Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, we&rsquo;re getting to the point,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;How much do you want for
+those letters?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Madame, you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hurry up! What is your price?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ver&rsquo; good. I say five sousand dollaires.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense! I&rsquo;ll give you $1,000.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I cannot accept zese.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That or nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have already an offaire of five sousand dollaires.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;From whom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ze editor of what you call <i>Chit-Chat</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So, you threaten us, do you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would not say zat. I geef you a chance Madame, to regain ze
+indiscretions of ze schoolgirl daughter. But five sousand dollaires is
+five sousand dollaires.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is your address?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He gave it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our lawyer will call on you at ten in the morning at this hotel, with
+our offer. Good morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Five sousand dollaires is my price, Madame.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally started to speak, but she stopped him.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg&nbsp;260]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will hear from us to-morrow,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>He bowed again, most formally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ma petite marraine</i>, vous &ecirc;tes tr&egrave;s charmante,&rdquo; he sighed as he left.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you give him what he asked? We don&rsquo;t want the thing hashed
+up in <i>Chit-Chat</i>,&rdquo; objected Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are going right now to the editor of <i>Chit-Chat</i> and make a bargain
+with him. Get your lawyer, Clifford, on the &rsquo;phone and have him meet us
+there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t come, Max. It may be nasty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce went hastily out of the room, without a look at Isabelle.
+Miss Watts followed her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally; I&rsquo;m sorry!&rdquo; she said, earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her speculatively.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It may cost a pretty penny to get rid of him. Are you sure Edouard
+knows that he is disinherited?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; she said, solemnly. &ldquo;Wally, it does discourage you with
+being patriotic, or having children or anything!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally, are you coming?&rdquo; called Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>He hurried away, trying his best to cover a smile with a befitting
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg&nbsp;261]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTY" id="CHAPTER_THIRTY"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY</h2>
+
+<p>The negotiations between Monsieur Petard, the editor of <i>Chit-Chat</i>, and
+the Bryces were neither so brief nor so simple as Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce had
+supposed that they would be. She did not have to be told that, after the
+notoriety of the Cartel incident, the name of Isabelle Bryce was one for
+editors to conjure with. This wily editor, who made his living by
+scandal, obligingly outlined the advertising campaign he would follow,
+to lead up to the publication of the letters.</p>
+
+<p>Anxious as Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce was to have the scandal suppressed, she was
+unwilling that Wally should pay the price which these rascals demanded.
+So lengthy and irritating meetings followed&mdash;discussion and bargaining.
+Wally insisted upon paying anything they asked, and putting a period to
+the affair. But Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce was upheld by Clifford, in the idea that they
+would beat them down to a much lower figure, if they persisted.</p>
+
+<p>During this period Max was so furious at both Isabelle and Miss Watts
+that it seemed wise for them to keep out of her way. They were like two
+conspirators slipping in and out of the house. But the most annoying
+detail was the espionage of Jean Jacques Petard. They soon discovered
+that he lay in wait for them, near the house, and on all occasions save
+when he was closeted
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg&nbsp;262]</a></span>
+
+with Bryce <i>p&egrave;re et m&egrave;re</i>, he was at the heels of Bryce
+<i>fille</i>.</p>
+
+<p>He made Miss Watts so nervous that she could hardly be induced to go
+out. Isabelle was all for having a talk with the man, and speaking her
+mind, but Miss Watts prevented this. She repeatedly said that she must
+tell Mr.&nbsp;Bryce of his behaviour, but Isabelle begged her not to do that
+as it would only result in their being ordered to stay indoors. After
+all, he did not speak to them, his presence could not hurt them. Let him
+follow!</p>
+
+<p>These were the most difficult days Isabelle had ever known. Usually,
+before, she had rescued herself with a high hand, from her escapades.
+But this thing had descended upon her head, like an avalanche, and for
+once, she saw no way of extricating herself.</p>
+
+<p>Then, too, she was so homesick for Bermuda that she could scarcely bear
+the thought of it. The long, happy days, with Percy and Jack at heel,
+and Captain Larry O&rsquo;Leary somewhere on the horizon, they haunted her. It
+was ten whole days since they left them, and not a word from any of
+them. To come from that paradise into this prison&mdash;from that atmosphere
+of devotion to this one of reproach&mdash;from that freedom&mdash;to this&mdash;tagged
+by the horrid little Frenchman!</p>
+
+<p>The strain was telling upon poor Miss Watts, too. She was thinner than
+ever, and she looked haunted. Isabelle begged her to leave her, but she
+always replied: &ldquo;My dear, we will face this together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But in her innermost heart Miss Watts lamented that Isabelle had not
+tried harder to interest Captain O&rsquo;Leary.
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg&nbsp;263]</a></span>
+
+He was the right man for her, she knew it; and they certainly did need a
+man on their side. Wally might be there in spirit, but Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce did
+not allow him to express it.</p>
+
+<p>The twelfth day since their return was a dark one for everybody. Max and
+Wally had to meet the enemy at eleven, in the lawyer&rsquo;s office. The air
+was electric with Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce&rsquo;s irritability. She left the two culprits
+in a state of collapse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One more performance like that, and I shall marry Jean Jacques Petard,
+and disappear,&rdquo; announced Isabelle, violently, as the door closed on
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, don&rsquo;t talk like that,&rdquo; begged Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go back to Bermuda; I hate it here!&rdquo; said the girl, going to the
+window. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to get out of this hateful house. The spy will be
+busy this morning, so we&rsquo;d better make the best of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A motor drew up to the curb and a man got out, looking up at the
+numbers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O my Lord!&rdquo; cried Isabelle, as if it were a prayer. She ran out of the
+room and down the hall, with Miss Watts, startled into action, hurrying
+after her. Before the bell sounded, Isabelle had the door open. Captain
+O&rsquo;Leary looked, first surprised and then delighted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cricket!&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry&mdash;Larry!&rdquo; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>He took both her hands and beamed on her&mdash;beamed. Then suddenly he was
+aware of Miss Watts, and he surprised everybody, including himself, by
+saluting that lady&rsquo;s cheek.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg&nbsp;264]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Captain O&rsquo;Leary!&rdquo; she exclaimed, and kissed him back.</p>
+
+<p>They all went into the living room, talking in chorus&mdash;asking questions,
+answering them&mdash;incoherent and excited.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry, when did you come?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just landed. Where are your parents?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re out. Oh, I&rsquo;m in an awful lot of trouble with them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t ye tell me ye were leavin&rsquo; down there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought you knew. We left on a cable from Wally to hurry home. I told
+everybody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know. What&rsquo;s this trouble ye speak of?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I oughtn&rsquo;t to begin the moment you come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, ye ought. Let&rsquo;s hear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts gave a deep sigh of relief. Isabelle began the story of her
+patriotism. Here and there Larry asked a question, and when the climax
+was reached, he leaned back and roared. Isabelle&rsquo;s eyes suddenly misted
+with tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but Larry, it isn&rsquo;t funny, it&rsquo;s awful! He&rsquo;s trying to make Wally
+pay a lot of money for my letters, and if Wally doesn&rsquo;t pay up, he is
+going to sell them to a nasty society sheet called <i>Chit-Chat</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His face was grave enough to suit her now.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is the little whelp?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s usually across the street looking at the house, or following me
+around,&rdquo; she began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye mean to say he follows ye?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg&nbsp;265]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may think I&rsquo;m to blame, Captain O&rsquo;Leary, for not telling Mr.&nbsp;Bryce
+of this, but Isabelle thought it would mean that her parents would keep
+her indoors. She is dreadfully in disgrace with her parents,&rdquo; Miss
+Watts said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little crickety-Cricket,&rdquo; he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t blame me, do you, Larry? I know it was silly, but I just
+wanted to be a patriot, and to practise my French.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sure I don&rsquo;t blame ye, ye blessed baby,&rdquo; he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>She choked a little; it was so good to be championed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce have gone for a conference with these men this
+morning, and we all hope they may settle it,&rdquo; sighed Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is this conference?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At Wally&rsquo;s lawyer&rsquo;s office,&rdquo; said Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get your hat, Cricket; we&rsquo;ll go say a word or two at this conference.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him inquiringly, and went for her wraps without a word.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Captain O&rsquo;Leary, we have needed you so!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Woman, woman, why didn&rsquo;t ye cable me? As it is I took the first boat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know you and Isabelle want to be alone, but I&rsquo;m so in disgrace now,
+with Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, that I dare not let her go with you, unless I go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He frowned, then smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, get your bonnet. Isabelle and I will have enough time later,
+to catch up on our affairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So all three of them got into the Captain&rsquo;s taxi, and hurried to the
+address which Isabelle gave the driver.</p>
+
+<p>There was some little difficulty in Mr.&nbsp;Clifford&rsquo;s outer office, but
+Captain O&rsquo;Leary simplified it, by lifting the
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg&nbsp;266]</a></span>
+
+office boy out of the way, bodily, opening the door and marching in,
+followed by the two women.</p>
+
+<p>Startled glances were lifted to this tall officer, stranger to them all,
+who strode in, unannounced. The lawyer rose angrily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did you get in?&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Walked. Present me to the Bryces, Miss Watts,&rdquo; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Watts in a trembling voice said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, this is Captain O&rsquo;Leary, a friend of Isabelle&rsquo;s and mine
+from Bermuda.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce stared&mdash;too astonished to speak. The tall, young man bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is my father,&rdquo; said Isabelle. The two men shook hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I object to this man&rsquo;s coming in here,&rdquo; began the editor of
+<i>Chit-Chat</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Captain O&rsquo;Leary fixed him with a stormy eye.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll hear your objections later. I know all about this rotten deal. Is
+this Jean Jacques Petard?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is none of your business,&rdquo; began Clifford, but he never finished
+it. With one long arm Captain O&rsquo;Leary reached for Monsieur Petard,
+lifted the gentleman by the seat of his trousers and his collar, bore
+him toward the door. Isabelle opened it for him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t kill him,&rdquo; she said, as he went out.</p>
+
+<p>Wally and Clifford rushed after him. Isabelle followed and Miss Watts
+got as far as the door. Max and the editor sat still, but sounds came to
+them from the outer hall.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg&nbsp;267]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was about ten minutes later that O&rsquo;Leary strode into the room again,
+with heightened colour but otherwise undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll hear no more of Mr.&nbsp;Petard, I think. Now sir, it is your turn.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The editor defended himself with a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What business is this, of yours?&rdquo; he yelled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Bryce is going to do me the honour of marrying me, and you&rsquo;ll
+jolly well see how much it is my business. Put down that chair, it is
+words for you, not blows. Mr.&nbsp;Bryce, if the ladies will leave us, we can
+settle shortly with this gentleman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Max and Miss Watts lost no time in obeying the hint.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Close the door, Isabelle, please,&rdquo; he said to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is this man?&rdquo; demanded Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk! If that creature hurts him,&rdquo; said Isabelle, her ear at the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>There were sounds of angry voices inside, loud argument. Then silence.
+After what seemed a long time, Larry opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in, now, please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They filed in. The editor was huddled in his chair. He was pretty much
+to pieces, nervously. Larry held up a package of letters.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, the letters are in my possession. May I keep them, for the
+present, Isabelle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg&nbsp;268]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;This gentleman has just signed a paper, drawn up by Mr.&nbsp;Bryce and me,
+signed by Mr.&nbsp;Clifford. This will be held by Mr.&nbsp;Clifford, in case of
+need. That ends this conference, I believe,&rdquo; he said affably.</p>
+
+<p>The editor left hastily. Mr.&nbsp;Clifford went into the outer office, and
+Max turned to Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you tell us you were going to marry this man?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle looked at Larry inquiringly, whereupon he took her hand and
+drew it through his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye must forgive her, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, ye see she didn&rsquo;t know it. I&rsquo;ve never
+had a chance yet to ask her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Max was used to shocks, but this morning had been too much for her. At
+this astounding statement on the part of their god-like liberator, she
+sat down suddenly, bereft of words, and stared at the two young people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take me home, Wally,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t stand any more!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg&nbsp;269]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTY-ONE" id="CHAPTER_THIRTY-ONE"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE</h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo;&mdash;said Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce, as they got into the limousine, &ldquo;&mdash;suppose
+we postpone explanations until after lunch. I&rsquo;m too worn out to
+understand anything you may say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So conversation was casual enough on the way home. Once there, Isabelle
+man&oelig;uvred to get Larry alone, but Wally stuck to him like a father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wally,&rdquo; said his daughter, sternly, &ldquo;Max wants you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does she want?&rdquo;&mdash;impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He went, reluctantly. Larry held out two eager hands to Isabelle, but
+she ignored them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sweetheart,&rdquo; he said, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry, you told a lie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Many of &rsquo;em, darlin&rsquo;. Which one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You said I was going to marry you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you, crickety-Cricket?&rdquo;&mdash;anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t decided&mdash;yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But won&rsquo;t ye decide, dearie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I may&mdash;when I&rsquo;m properly asked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is properly, Mavourneen?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I&rsquo;ve never been proposed to before, except by Jean
+Jacques Petard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was entirely in earnest, so he humoured her.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg&nbsp;270]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would ye prefer the formal
+&lsquo;Will-ye-do-me-the-honour-to-become-me-bride?&rsquo; sort, or a more
+impassioned style?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Larry, you must advise me! Which would you take?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a laugh&mdash;half amused, wholly tender&mdash;he took her into his arms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d take the quickest way to get ye, little wee leprechaun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry, I won&rsquo;t let you off. I do so <i>want</i> to be proposed to.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he said gently, &ldquo;I love ye a very great deal. I want ye to
+love me a very great deal, and to be my wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Both arms went around his neck. She drew his tall head down to her, and
+kissed him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Larry; I will,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>He gathered her up and went to sit in a chair big enough to hold them
+both. He kissed her eyes, her saucy chin, her hair. He told her in
+tender ways, known only to the Irish, how he loved her, how he wanted to
+make for her a shield of his love, to keep her safe and happy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do ye love me, Cricket?&rdquo; he begged her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry,&rdquo; she said, solemnly; &ldquo;I feel as if you were all the people I
+have loved in my whole life&mdash;Ann, Mrs.&nbsp;Benjamin, Jerry, and Herbert&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Percy?&rdquo; he teased her. &ldquo;When did ye begin to love me?&rdquo; he asked, in
+the old way of lovers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On the boat, going down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye didn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg&nbsp;271]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I felt it comin&rsquo; on me, stronger and stronger, at Bermuda, but that
+night when ye came into my arms in the garden settled it. I had to come
+and find out who ye thought ye were lovin&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She only laughed. Luncheon was announced and the family appeared. The
+meal was more or less the usual midday repast, but to Isabelle and Larry
+it might have been ambrosia, or sawdust. They made motions of eating,
+between long glances. Wally and Max tried not to notice, but Miss
+Watts&rsquo;s face was wreathed in a fatuous smile of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>Later, when they went to the living room, she started to slip away, but
+Isabelle put her arm through the older woman&rsquo;s and led her along.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll face this out together,&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We seem to have had the end of this story, Isabelle; suppose we now
+have the first of it,&rdquo; said her mother in an amused tone.</p>
+
+<p>The Captain and Isabelle smiled at each other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you recite it, or shall I?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Chapter One. The good ship &lsquo;Astra.&rsquo; The hero forces his acquaintance
+upon the heroine&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</i>&rdquo; he began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you want to meet him?&rdquo; inquired Max, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, but I didn&rsquo;t want him to know it. All the women on board
+made fools of themselves about him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg&nbsp;272]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Deceivin&rsquo; little minx! Is this the way ye brought her up, Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t bring her up. She&rsquo;s brought herself up. Go on with the story.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>The hero curried favour with one Miss Watts in hope of advancing his
+suit&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Watts was foolish about him, too,&rdquo; announced Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was,&rdquo; admitted Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>The heroine promptly acquired one Major O&rsquo;Dell, of the English army,
+one odious youth, named Percy, one nondescript yclept Jack&mdash;&mdash;</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And an Irishman named O&rsquo;Leary,&rdquo; boasted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>And an Irishman named O&rsquo;Leary. She led them all a pretty dance, and
+when her affairs were so complicated that a lawyer couldn&rsquo;t straighten
+them out, whist! she disappears.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Engaged to a Frenchman!&rdquo; supplied Wally. &ldquo;Catholic tastes, our
+Isabelle, a regular internationalist.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Larry looked at Wally as if seeing him for the first time, and laughed
+appreciatively.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Irishman followed,&rdquo; prompted Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>The Irishman followed. Now he wishes to apologize for the abrupt way
+in which he intruded into the peace conference. He makes the proper, if
+somewhat belated request, that Mr.&nbsp;and Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce will look upon him
+kindly as a son-in-law.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His gay smile went swiftly from Max to Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isabelle, has he proposed yet?&rdquo; asked Max.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg&nbsp;273]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you accept him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot believe that you could ever do anything so sensible.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; bowed the Captain. &ldquo;Mr.&nbsp;Bryce, the British consul has full
+information about me. I am a captain in the &mdash;&mdash; Regiment. I am on sick
+leave, wounded at Ypres.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wally put out his hand and grasped O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have a talk with the Consul this afternoon, but if Isabelle likes
+you as well as I do, your case is safe right now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle fell upon Wally and hugged him. The next victim was Miss Watts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know you&rsquo;ll be happy, my dear. You know how to take care of her,
+Captain O&rsquo;Leary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Trust me,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Isabelle went and stood in front of her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Isabelle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you ought to kiss me, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She did.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is ridiculous for you to be engaged before you&rsquo;re out,&rdquo; remarked
+Mrs.&nbsp;Bryce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max, I never intended to come out. I made up my mind about that long
+ago.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Max shrugged her shoulders and held out a hand to Larry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad we are going to have such a handsome person in the family,&rdquo;
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>He bowed over the hand.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg&nbsp;274]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ye&rsquo;re remindin&rsquo; me that &lsquo;handsome is as handsome does.&rsquo; I invite ye to
+watch me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk any nonsense about getting married, for this child is only
+eighteen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m expectin&rsquo; my orders any day,&rdquo; he said, turning to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To go back&mdash;there?&rdquo; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded. She went to stand in the circle of his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Max, when Larry goes, I go with him, if it is to-morrow,&rdquo; she
+said&mdash;quietly, firmly.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb2" />
+
+<p>No more was said about it at that time, but it was an issue that had to
+be faced very shortly. Two halcyon weeks followed for the lovers, and
+then for Larry a summons came. He brought the news to her one afternoon.
+When he came into the room she knew. She went into his arms with a
+little cry&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dearest, when?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He held her close for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must sail on Saturday, belovedest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He felt the shiver that went through her, but she made no protest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can be ready,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Little love, I&rsquo;ve been thinkin&rsquo;, maybe ye&rsquo;d better not go. Maybe ye&rsquo;d
+better stay here and wait for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll wait for you, just as close to those dreadful trenches as they&rsquo;ll
+let me come!&rdquo; she said, fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>She summoned the family and told them the news. She
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg&nbsp;275]</a></span>
+
+wished to be married on the morrow and sail with her boy on
+Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you&rsquo;ve got no clothes!&rdquo; protested Max.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll be married to-morrow at five, Max; here or in a church, whichever
+you say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, of course,&rdquo; said Wally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t want any fuss, or people, or excitement. I will pack to-night
+so that Larry and I may have the whole day free to-morrow,&rdquo; said
+Isabelle, with a quiet authority that silenced them all.</p>
+
+<p>For once Max let her have it her own way. She had always dreamed of
+Isabelle&rsquo;s wedding as a big fashionable event. It was like her daughter
+to do it this way. She actually went off for the entire day with her
+lover, coming back only in time to dress.</p>
+
+<p>There were no guests except Miss Watts and Martin Christiansen. Major
+O&rsquo;Dell, whose orders took him back on the ship with them, acted as best
+man for Larry. Just as she was hurrying downstairs, Isabelle met Wally,
+waiting for her. He slipped a box into her hand and said brokenly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Little secret between us, Isabelle. I know you&rsquo;re going to be happy
+with this chap, but I&rsquo;m frightened,&mdash;it&rsquo;s all such a gamble!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put her arms about him and kissed him tenderly. He felt that she had
+grown into a woman over night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right, dear. I&rsquo;m not frightened. I&rsquo;m sure!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord, but I&rsquo;ll miss you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear old Wally&mdash;dear old Wally!&rdquo; she said very close to tears.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg&nbsp;276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was a simple brief ceremony, this wedding. They were all a little
+solemn with the thought of what this world in dissolution might hold for
+these radiant young lovers. Larry O&rsquo;Leary&rsquo;s face was something to
+remember, when Isabelle plighted him her troth, and there was a sudden
+womanly dignity in Isabelle&rsquo;s bearing that made the eyes smart.</p>
+
+<p>But later, at the wedding supper, no one could resist the boyish
+happiness of Larry. He swept them all into his joyousness, and when the
+time came for their farewells, there were no tears, only good wishes and
+high hopes.</p>
+
+<p>In the motor car on the way to the hotel, Larry&rsquo;s arm held Isabelle
+close.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wee wife,&rdquo; he said, softly; &ldquo;wee wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was no need of words, their happiness was folded round them like a
+cloak. They dined in their sitting room, as merry as larks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Happy, darlin&rsquo;?&rdquo; he asked her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose that&rsquo;s what you call it! I&rsquo;ve got a whole new world, Larry.
+That&rsquo;s your wedding gift to me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her hair and went into the other room for a second. When he
+came back he held something behind him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heart of me,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve a confession!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only luck that you&rsquo;re here to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg&nbsp;277]</a></span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;There once was a leprechaun visited me in the night, and she left me
+something to know her by. I&rsquo;ve been lookin&rsquo; for her ever since. I swore
+I&rsquo;d marry her when I found her!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;&mdash;anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will ye see if ye&rsquo;ll fit my leprechaun coat?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He held out the orange-and-black Chinese coat, and laid it about her
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Larry! it was you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, darlin&rsquo;, an isn&rsquo;t it luck that it&rsquo;s <i>you</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The coat and its owner were folded close to Larry&rsquo;s heart. Both of them
+had come home.</p>
+
+<p class="s7 center smcap pad4both">the end.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter w15">
+<img class="w100 noborder" src="images/i272.png" alt="Publisher's Logo" title="Publisher's Logo" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="s7 center smcap">the country life press</p>
+
+<p class="s7 center smcap">garden city, n.&nbsp;y.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div id="tn" class="tn">
+
+<p class="s4 center pad1bot">Transcriber's Notes</p>
+
+<p>Spacing around ellipses and em-dashes is as in the original.</p>
+
+<p>The images are whole page illustrations, which have been moved in this
+eBook to the relevant part of the text. The link in the List of
+Illustrations to Page 240 has therefore been adjusted to point to Page
+242 instead.</p>
+
+<p>The following corrections have been made to the text:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><a href="#Page_6">Page 6</a>: &ldquo;{original had a single quotation mark}Well, if you
+want her to go to this party, you&rsquo;d better make a bargain with
+her. I know her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_12">Page&nbsp;12</a>: &ldquo;{original had a single quotation mark}I&rsquo;m free an&rsquo; a
+half, an&rsquo; I don&rsquo;t take off my cloves at a party,&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_14">Page&nbsp;14</a>: &ldquo;{original had a single quotation mark}Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_32">Page&nbsp;32</a>: There was something about the little
+beggar&mdash;&mdash;{original had superfluous closing quotation mark}</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_46">Page&nbsp;46</a>: &ldquo;Put her down and let{original had ler} her walk then.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_67">Page&nbsp;67</a>: &ldquo;Most flattering. I would prefer that.&rdquo;{original
+omitted closing quotation mark}</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_68">Page&nbsp;68</a>: &ldquo;Very well. I&rsquo;ll wear a white linen dress, with a
+black belt, and my black hat,&rdquo; announced the girl.{original had
+superfluous closing quotation mark}</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_148">Page&nbsp;148</a>: &ldquo;I want thee to eat some lunch, my
+Isabelle.&rdquo;{original had a single quotation mark}</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_183">Page&nbsp;183</a>: &ldquo;{original omitted opening quotation mark}Yes,&rdquo; she
+replied, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s chronic in our family!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_233">Page&nbsp;233</a>: Major O&rsquo;Dell and Captain{original had Captaim}
+O&rsquo;Leary, the latter looking very white,</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_238">Page&nbsp;238</a>: &ldquo;Give{original had Giver} her a spoon to play with,
+Larry, and pay some attention to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_242">Page&nbsp;242</a>: She nodded. He fell in step beside her.{original
+omitted the period}</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_264">Page&nbsp;264</a>: &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know. What&rsquo;s this trouble ye speak
+of?&rdquo;{original had a single quotation mark}</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The following words appear with and without a hyphen. They have been
+left as in the original.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>godlike/god-like</p>
+
+<p>hothouse/hot-house</p>
+
+<p>pincushion/pin-cushion</p>
+
+<p>rewrote/re-wrote</p></div>
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cricket, by Marjorie Cooke
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cricket, by Marjorie Cooke
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Cricket
+
+Author: Marjorie Cooke
+
+Illustrator: J. Scott Williams
+
+Release Date: April 16, 2008 [EBook #25081]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRICKET ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Bell, Andrew Wainwright, Joe Free and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              THE CRICKET
+
+
+
+
+                       _Books by the Same Author_
+
+
+                                 BAMBI
+
+                            CINDERELLA JANE
+
+                              "DR. DAVID"
+
+                           THE DUAL ALLIANCE
+
+                    THE GIRL WHO LIVED IN THE WOODS
+
+                             THE THRESHOLD
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: _"What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a
+ birthday party? . . . All the children in the colony are asked to come
+        and play with you, and you make a monkey of yourself"_]
+
+
+
+
+                              THE CRICKET
+
+                                   BY
+
+                         MARJORIE BENTON COOKE
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                            _ILLUSTRATED BY_
+                           _J. SCOTT WILLIAMS_
+
+                        GARDEN CITY    NEW YORK
+                       DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+                                  1919
+
+
+
+
+                         _Copyright, 1919, by_
+
+                       DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+
+                _All rights reserved, including that of
+                  translations into foreign languages,
+                      including the Scandinavian_
+
+                      _Copyright, 1918, 1919, by_
+                   THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY
+                            (Harper's Bazar)
+
+
+
+
+                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+    "What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a birthday
+    party?" (_See page 6_)                                _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                             FACING PAGE
+    She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together            162
+
+    "You've made my summer for me, little witch," Cartel said        182
+
+    "Ye're a comfortable cricket, when ye want to be. I'd like to
+    capture ye, to sing on my hearth!"                               240
+
+
+
+
+                              THE CRICKET
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER ONE
+
+
+"I won't have it! I won't have it! If they come, I'll run away and
+hide!" shouted the child, wildly.
+
+"That will be very rude. No one acts like that--no one except a
+barbarian," said Miss Wilder, calmly.
+
+"I want to be a bar----one of those things you said."
+
+"You act like one most of the time."
+
+The child brain caught at a new idea.
+
+"What _is_ that--that what you said?"
+
+"Barbarian? B-a-r-b-a-r-i-a-n," she spelled slowly. "It is a savage
+creature with no manners, no morals, no clothes even. It lives in a hut
+or a tree, and eats roots and nuts, and nearly raw meat," Miss Wilder
+remarked, none too accurately, but slowly, in order to distract
+Isabelle's attention from the late subject of unpleasantness. The little
+girl considered her words thoughtfully.
+
+"Do they have children?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Where do they live?"
+
+"Oh, strange places; Fiji Islands, for one."
+
+"Are there any near here?"
+
+"Not that I know of."
+
+"I want to go live with the bar-barbarians."
+
+Miss Wilder's stern face underwent no change. She answered seriously:
+
+"You would not like it; you would be very uncomfortable. The children
+have no pretty clothes, no nice homes with gardens to play in, no kind
+parents or patient teachers."
+
+"Do they have horses?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Do they swim?"
+
+"Probably. They have rude boats called dug-outs," continued Miss Wilder,
+glad of an absorbing subject.
+
+"Do the children go in the boats?"
+
+"No doubt."
+
+"They can't get their clothes spoiled if they don't wear any."
+
+"Obviously. Come, now, Isabelle, put on your dress like a nice girl. The
+children will be coming to the party, and you won't be dressed."
+
+"I _won't_ put on that dress, and I'm _not_ going to the party, I tell
+you; I _hate_ them."
+
+Miss Wilder tried force, but in vain. She tried strategy, with no
+results. Isabelle wriggled out of her grasp and darted out of the room.
+Miss Wilder called; no reply. She commanded; no answer. Then she closed
+her lips more firmly and betook herself to the door of Mrs. Bryce's
+room.
+
+"What is it? I told you not to bother me," an irritated voice called, at
+her knock.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bryce, but Isabelle refuses to be dressed for the
+party. She says she won't go."
+
+"Come in," called the voice.
+
+The governess opened the door and entered. It was a hot day, and Mrs.
+Bryce, in a cool neglige, lay stretched out on a _chaise longue_, with a
+pitcher of something iced beside her, a book open on her lap. She was
+the picture of luxurious comfort, except for the frown upon her pretty
+brow.
+
+"Why don't you make her behave, Miss Wilder?"
+
+"I do my best, Mrs. Bryce, but she is very difficult," the older woman
+sighed.
+
+"Of course she's difficult--she's a brat! But that is what I have you
+for, to teach her some manners, and make her act like a civilized being.
+Where is she?"
+
+"She ran away when I tried to put her dress on her."
+
+"What do you expect me to do about it?"
+
+"I thought you might order her to get dressed."
+
+"Much good it would do! I don't see why I have to be bothered with it. I
+didn't want the party; it's a perfect nuisance, cluttering up the place
+with noisy kids; but she owes it to them, and she has to have them here
+once a season."
+
+A small, determined figure appeared at the door, in a brief petticoat
+and socks.
+
+"I won't go to that party," she announced.
+
+"Come here to me this instant," exploded her mother at sight of her.
+
+The child walked slowly to her mother's side, with disconcerting
+dignity, all out of proportion to her four brief years.
+
+"What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a birthday party?
+There is everything on earth ordered to eat, and all the children in the
+colony are asked to come and play with you, and you make a monkey of
+yourself."
+
+"I won't go."
+
+"Why won't you go?"
+
+"You didn't ask Patsy."
+
+"You can't ask that common little Irishman to a _party_," objected her
+parent.
+
+"I won't go. He's my friend. I like him best, an' if he don't come, I
+won't go."
+
+"But it's _your_ party----"
+
+"I hate 'em."
+
+"You ought to whip her!" Mrs. Bryce said to the governess.
+
+A maid appeared at the door to announce the first arrivals.
+
+"Now, you see, your guests are coming, and you aren't even dressed."
+
+"I won't go," reiterated the child, sullenly.
+
+"If we ask Patsy, will you go?" asked Mrs. Bryce desperately.
+
+"No--o; yes."
+
+"Put on her clothes, Miss Wilder, and telephone the Lodge that Isabelle
+wants Patsy for her party."
+
+"But, Mrs. Bryce, do you think we ought to humour her? Will not the
+children's mothers object to Patsy?"
+
+"Well, if you want her to go to this party, you'd better make a bargain
+with her. I know her."
+
+"Come on. Hurry up, Miss Wilder; I want to go after Patsy myself,"
+cried the tyrant, racing down the hall.
+
+Miss Wilder followed, and Mrs. Bryce turned to her book, with a sense of
+irritated futility which her only child always aroused in her. But the
+party soon faded from her mind, save when shrill shouts from the lawn
+below caught her attention.
+
+Eventually Mr. Walter Bryce, familiarly known as Wally, appeared at his
+wife's door. He was an undersized, dapper little man, with almost no
+chin. His sole claim to attention lay in the millions accumulated by his
+father.
+
+"Nice row you've got on down stairs," he remarked.
+
+"Isabelle's birthday party," yawned his wife.
+
+"Looks to me like poor old Wilder's birthday party. Just as I came
+along, a line of kids was marching up to give their hostess their
+presents. Old Wilder was hanging on to Isabelle so she wouldn't bolt,
+and the little beast wouldn't take one of the packages. Said she didn't
+want their presents. The poor Wilder appealed to me, and I told Isabelle
+to act like a lady, and whadye think she said to me--right there before
+all those smart-aleck kids?--'Get out, Wally, this is my party'!"
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed.
+
+"You ought to know better than to give her a chance like that."
+
+"Look here now, Max, she's got to be attended to. She's the limit. She's
+got no more manners than an alley cat."
+
+"That's no news to me, Wally."
+
+"Why don't you do something about it?"
+
+"Do something? Don't I get her a new governess every month? Nobody can
+do anything with her."
+
+"I don't see where she gets it," said Wally.
+
+"She gets it from you, and she gets it from me. She's the worst of both
+of us personified."
+
+"Poor kid, that's tough luck for her"--seriously.
+
+"A little late for vain regrets"--sarcastically.
+
+He went over to the window and looked down at the party scattered about
+below.
+
+"Why wouldn't it be a good idea to keep her with you awhile every day,
+Max?"
+
+"Not much! I come down here to rest, not to play nursemaid. You might
+take her round with you, if you feel that she needs uplifting."
+
+"She's beyond me. I don't understand her; and, on the whole, I don't
+like her."
+
+"Nobody likes her; she's _queer_. And plain; my word, why do you suppose
+I had to have a child that looks like that? She hasn't one good point."
+
+"Um--she's got eyes."
+
+"Great big goopy eyes too big for her head! This parent business is
+too much of a gamble. If you could go pick out a nice blue-eyed,
+pink-and-white, ready-made infant----"
+
+"I suppose you should have picked out a pink-and-white ready-made
+husband, if you wanted that kind," Wally interposed.
+
+"Well, I never would have picked out Isabelle."
+
+"After all, you're her mother, Max," he began.
+
+"Look here, Wally, don't begin on that mother stuff. I didn't want her
+any more than you did, and we were fools to have her. That may be
+abnormal, unnatural, and all the rest of it, but it's the truth, and
+there are lots of other women just like me. You can't lump us, any more
+than you can lump men. We don't all of us have the maternal instinct,
+not by a long shot."
+
+"Don't talk like that, Max; it's not nice."
+
+"There you go. It's all right for you not to want a child, but it's
+indecent in me. That's a man-made idea, and it won't work any more. Lots
+of us don't find motherhood either satisfying or interesting, and we're
+getting courage enough to say so."
+
+"The less you say about it, the better," counselled Wally.
+
+"To get back to Isabelle, she's here, and she's just as much your
+responsibility as she is mine."
+
+"Being here isn't her fault, poor kid. Seems as if somebody ought
+to--well--love her," he finished in embarrassment.
+
+"Go ahead. I've no objection."
+
+Mrs. Bryce returned to her book.
+
+"By Jove, Max, you're hard as rocks."
+
+"Oh, get out, Wally. I'm not interested in your conversation. Go liven
+up the party."
+
+"Why don't you try a younger governess, for a change?" he went on,
+undeterred. "Wilder is so old and sort of set."
+
+Mrs. Bryce closed her book with irritated finality.
+
+"Wally, I will give you a chance at running our darling child for the
+rest of this summer. I declare a strike! You get her governesses, you
+donate your society to her. You've got nothing to do. She may keep you
+out of mischief."
+
+"Oh, I say, I don't want to butt in, I only thought----"
+
+"She's yours. I'm through until September first."
+
+There was an uproar from below, louder than before. Wally looked out.
+
+"I wonder what they're up to," he said.
+
+A maid, red and flustered, appeared at the door.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, please come down to the party. Isabelle ran away with
+Patsy and we've just found her."
+
+Mrs. Bryce, oblivious of her costume, followed Mr. Bryce and the maid
+down the stairs, as fast as possible. Evidently a crisis had occurred
+below. All the girls in their white dresses and pink or blue sashes, all
+the boys in their white collars of ceremony, were grouped about on the
+lawn, around the base of a big shade tree. Pink hair bows were a-flutter
+with excitement. The patent leather pumps of the boys trod upon the
+white slippers of the little girls in their efforts to see what was
+happening.
+
+At the foot of the tree stood Miss Wilder red and tired, speaking
+sternly to some one overhead. Mr. and Mrs. Bryce rushed to join her,
+brushing children aside.
+
+"What is the matter, Miss Wilder?" demanded Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, she's--she's----"
+
+"Isabelle Bryce, come down here this moment," commanded her mother,
+loudly.
+
+There was a whispered colloquy overhead, among the branches.
+
+"That wretched Patsy is with her," wailed Miss Wilder. "They ran away,
+and hid for hours, and then we found them up here."
+
+"Isabelle!" shouted her father.
+
+"All right. We're going to drop," said a voice from above.
+
+Suddenly two white and shining little bodies hung side by side from a
+limb, then two naked youngsters dropped into the midst of the astounded
+party.
+
+"Isabelle Bryce!" gasped her mother.
+
+"We're playing barbarian," said Isabelle, coolly; "Miss Wilder told me
+about them."
+
+"Miss Wilder!" protested Wally.
+
+"But I didn't--I mean--I----"
+
+"You said they lived in trees and never wore clothes."
+
+The children began to titter.
+
+"This is your affair, I believe, Wally," remarked Mrs. Bryce, and she
+walked in a leisurely way into the house.
+
+"Oh, I say," he called after her; then: "Get her indoors, will you?
+Who's the boy?"
+
+"The gardener's child, Patsy."
+
+"Where are your clothes?" he demanded.
+
+"Up in the tree, sorr," said the boy.
+
+"Get them, and cut home," said Wally, severely.
+
+Patsy obeyed, but Isabelle resisted force. "I won't hurry and I won't be
+carried, I'll walk," said she, and--properly clad in her "birthday
+clothes"--Isabelle Bryce disposed of her first party!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TWO
+
+
+Following upon the exit of his daughter came the realization to Wally
+that something must be done about the "party." He turned to the group of
+children, huddled together in horror, like butterflies in a rain storm.
+Serious and large-eyed, they focussed their attention upon him, in the
+apparent belief that, being a parent, he would be able to handle this
+unprecedented situation. They ranged in age from three to six; they were
+the children of his neighbours and life-long associates; and yet Wally
+had the feeling that he was hemmed in by a pack of alert, curious little
+animals.
+
+"Well, children," he managed to say, "I'm sorry that Isabelle was such a
+naughty girl at her own party, but she is only four years old, we must
+remember, and I suppose she did not know any better."
+
+"I'm free an' a half, an' I don't take off my cloves at a party,"
+bragged one of the female infants.
+
+"No, I'm sure you don't. It isn't done," said Wally, helplessly.
+
+"She always spoils parties. I wanted not to have her at mine, but mother
+made me," remarked Tommy Page.
+
+"Hard luck, old man," said Wally.
+
+"She always wants to boss everything," Margie Hunter complained.
+
+"Are you going to whip her?" demanded another child.
+
+"She will be punished, believe me," replied Wally, firmly. "But I think
+we'd better call the party over."
+
+"We can't go yet, the nurses and chauffeurs haven't come," Tommy
+protested. "I'd like to hear her yell when she's licked."
+
+"Our man will take you all home in the big station wagon, so get on your
+hats," Wally ordered.
+
+Fifteen minutes later the smallest child was packed in, with one of the
+maids in command, and the motor slid off down the drive, leaving Wally
+on the door step.
+
+"Little beasts!" he remarked, feelingly.
+
+In the hall he met Miss Wilder, still bearing marks of the late
+excitement.
+
+"I have put Isabelle to bed, Mr. Bryce. Mrs. Bryce says that you are to
+prescribe her punishment."
+
+Wally looked his misery.
+
+"I don't want to punish her. Can't you manage it alone?" he said.
+
+"No, I cannot. Isabelle needs the authority of her parents now and then
+to back me up," said Miss Wilder, severely.
+
+"Well, I'll have a talk with her."
+
+"I think a severe spanking is what she needs."
+
+"What do ye suppose ever put such an idea in her head?"
+
+"You never know what she is going to do. She asked me about barbarians
+when I was trying to induce her to get dressed for the party. I told her
+some facts, just to occupy her mind."
+
+"It occupied her mind all right," laughed Wally, who left Miss Wilder
+with the idea that he thought the joke was at her expense. She
+determined to give notice at once, and leave at the end of her month.
+
+Wally went upstairs and turned his unaccustomed feet into the nursery.
+He hesitated before he opened the door, but no sounds of repentant sobs
+met his ear, so he went in. Isabelle, the picture of alert interest, sat
+up in bed and eyed him.
+
+"Have you come to punish me?" she asked.
+
+"Something like that."
+
+"Go ahead," said she.
+
+He sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at her. Max was right;
+she was no prize beauty, with her baby face like an old woman's, with
+her nondescript features, her short brown hair. But her eyes were
+disturbing--big dusky, wise eyes, with no effect of childishness.
+
+"Look here, Isabelle, why do you act like this?" That was regular
+parent-talk, so she made no answer.
+
+"Here you are, four years old, and you can't behave at your own party,"
+he continued.
+
+"I hate parties."
+
+"Well, but you have to have parties."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, all children do."
+
+"Nasty things! I hate 'em all, except Patsy."
+
+"Hate those nice little girls?"
+
+"Yes!"--hotly.
+
+"And those handsome boys?"
+
+"Yes. They're ugly. Patsy is handsome."
+
+"Why are you so crazy about this Patsy?"
+
+"Because he always does what I say." Wally stifled a smile.
+
+"But don't you know you mustn't take off your clothes before mixed
+company?"
+
+"But we were playing barbarian."
+
+"Well, you shouldn't play that kind of game."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because----" He floundered. "Now, look here, you must never take off
+your clothes again."
+
+"Not when I go to bed?"--with interest.
+
+"I mean before people."
+
+"Not before Miss Wilder, or Mary?"
+
+"Don't be stupid," he exploded. "You know what I mean--before boys and
+girls."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because it isn't nice. Don't you know what modesty is?"
+
+"No; what is it?"
+
+"It's--it's--well, it's just that you mustn't show your body to people."
+
+"Isn't my face my body?"
+
+"That's different. Everybody shows his face." She considered that.
+
+"If everybody showed their bodies it would be nice, wouldn't it?"
+
+"No," Wally said, harshly, because he felt she was making a fool of him.
+
+"But the barbarians never wore any clothes, and they were nice."
+
+"That's different. They didn't know any better."
+
+"Didn't they? Why didn't God tell them any better?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Did Jesus wear clothes?" she inquired.
+
+"Who?" he demanded, caught unawares.
+
+"Jesus. You know, God's boy," she replied, earnestly.
+
+"Of course he wore clothes," Wally protested.
+
+"Why didn't he tell the barbarians?"
+
+"O Lord, I don't know. This has got nothing to do with your performance
+this afternoon," Wally urged, trying to get back to the subject and on
+to solid ground.
+
+"What kind of punishing are you going to do?" she inquired.
+
+"I don't know," he admitted. "What do you think I ought to do?"
+
+She thought about that with awakened interest.
+
+"There's whipping, but I don't mind that."
+
+"You don't?"
+
+"No. There's shutting up, but that's fun. I play I'm a prisoner then."
+
+"Are there any punishments you don't like?"
+
+"Yes. Parties are punishment, and kindiegarden in winter is punishment."
+
+"You think the party this afternoon was punishment, do you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who punished you?"
+
+"Max."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't call your mother 'Max.'"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why do you call her that?"
+
+"Because you do."
+
+"I don't have to be respectful to her--I mean----"
+
+"If you call her that, I'm going to," she said, dismissing that subject.
+
+"You're being punished now, you know, being sent off to bed in broad
+daylight."
+
+"But I like it, when you talk to me."
+
+He rose promptly.
+
+"I'm not going to talk to you. Your punishment is that nobody will talk
+to you for the rest of the day."
+
+"All right"--cheerfully.
+
+"You'll just lie here, all alone."
+
+"Oh, no," she corrected him, "my playmates will be here, and God's
+always around."
+
+"No playmates shall come in here," he reiterated.
+
+"But you can't keep Dorothy and Reginald out, because they're just
+pretend," she defied him.
+
+Wally knew he was beaten. He had never felt so futile in his life. She
+sat there with her straight little back, her wise eyes fixed on him, and
+he wished he were well out of the room.
+
+"I hope you will lie here and think of what I have said to you," he
+remarked sonorously. "I'm surprised at you, Isabelle," he added sternly.
+
+He rose and hurried toward the door.
+
+"Good night, Wally," she said pleasantly, and smiled at him.
+
+It is not too much to say that Wally fled. He sought out his wife, who
+was dressing for dinner.
+
+"Well, did you whip her?" she inquired.
+
+He evaded that.
+
+"I've had a good talk with her"--firmly.
+
+She turned her face over her shoulder at him, and laughed.
+
+"Terrified her, no doubt."
+
+"Where on earth does she get her ideas?"
+
+"Not from me,--" indifferently.
+
+"She's--she's uncanny, that kid."
+
+"Hurry and dress, we're dining at the club. I wish you the joy of your
+job," she added, as he left her.
+
+A day or two later, when Wally came out of the bath house on the way to
+swim, he encountered his daughter on the beach.
+
+"I'll swim with you, Wally," she said.
+
+"No, thanks. I'm going to the raft."
+
+"So am I," she answered.
+
+He looked at her and laughed. She looked like a Kewpie in her abbreviated
+bathing suit, with water wings fastened to her back. She walked rapidly
+into the sea, and, perforce, he followed. Miss Wilder shouted orders in
+vain from the shore. The tide was running in, and nearly high, so she was
+over her depth in a second, but she paddled out toward the distant raft,
+her head well out of the water, thanks to her wings. Much amused, Wally
+swam beside her into deep water.
+
+"It was a great surprise to me, the day I found I could swim," she said.
+
+"It must have been," he laughed.
+
+"It was a pleasant day," she added.
+
+"It is deep here," he said, to test her.
+
+"I know it. Don't you put your hands on me, Wally. I don't want to be
+touched," she admonished him.
+
+"Aren't you afraid?"
+
+"No."
+
+In due time they reached the raft. The youngster was winded, but
+undaunted. Bryce watched her with real admiration. Here was a dare-devil
+courage he vastly respected. He was timid and cautious himself.
+
+"Throw me off the raft, Wally; I like to splash," she ordered.
+
+"You're crazy," he said.
+
+"No. Mr. Page threw me off the club raft, when I asked him to."
+
+"Better not let me catch him at it. You sit still and get your breath
+and then we'll start back."
+
+He dived off the raft and instantly she followed him. He caught her by
+the arm, strangling and coughing.
+
+"You little devil," he said; "you'll drown."
+
+"No, I won't. Let go, Wally; I won't be helped."
+
+He headed her for shore, by pretending to race her, and once on land he
+urged Miss Wilder to watch her every minute, lest she swim for the raft
+alone.
+
+But this adventure had fixed Isabelle on her father's mind. He thought
+about her a good deal, and laughed at the thought. She certainly was a
+sport, and she was nobody's fool. He wondered if other children were
+like her, and began to watch them. He asked their fathers about them,
+but the fathers never knew. They always said: "I don't see much of the
+kids; too busy," or: "That's Mabel's job (or Kate's or Mary's)."
+
+He could not seem to remember seeing much of his father when he was a
+boy, save on state occasions when his parent was called upon to
+administer extra stiff punishment. He wondered if the other mothers knew
+more about their youngsters than Max did about hers? But when he asked
+them at the club, or on the golf course, they looked surprised and said:
+"I don't know anything about them, Wally; the governess looks after
+them."
+
+It evidently wasn't the thing, in their set, to bother about children.
+So he did not get much help from his friends in the difficult situation
+in which Max had placed him. She stood by her determination to leave the
+child to him, with irritating completeness. She even refused to give
+advice or help.
+
+Of course, he could leave well enough alone, let Miss Wilder blunder
+along with her somehow. That was evidently the way the rest of them did.
+He had almost decided upon this course, when he met Isabelle, standing
+on the pony's bare back, making him run, while poor Miss Wilder panted
+behind, protesting at every step.
+
+It brought him to a resolution. The kid ought to have a younger woman to
+look after her, one who could swim and ride and take some interest in
+her sports. If she was going to leap head first into every danger, she
+needed a girl to stand by, and leap in after her, if necessary.
+
+It took him several days to get up his nerve to dismiss Miss Wilder, but
+in the end, she met him half way. She said she could not stand the
+strain, that she had aged ten years in the two months she had been in
+charge of his daughter.
+
+"She is a very remarkable child, Mr. Bryce, and she needs very special
+treatment."
+
+"I suppose that is it. I will give you a month's extra salary, Miss
+Wilder, so you may take a rest. I know you need it."
+
+The next morning he bustled into Mrs. Bryce's room, where she was taking
+her breakfast in bed.
+
+"Mercy, Wally, are you sick?" she inquired; "it's barely nine o'clock."
+
+"I've got to go to town."
+
+"Town, this hot day?"
+
+"Yes. I fired old Wilder and I've got to get a new victim for our
+offspring. Where do you get 'em?"
+
+"Poor Wally," laughed his wife. "I advertise, or go to teachers'
+agencies, or any old way. Telephone in, and they'll send you something."
+
+"No; I'm going to get a young one."
+
+"And pretty, I suppose."
+
+"Don't be an idiot."
+
+He turned as the door opened and Isabelle came in. She was booted and
+hatted.
+
+"Good morning, Max," she said, sweetly.
+
+"Morning. Where are you going?"
+
+"To town, with Wally."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, I thought I'd better take her. She has to live with 'em, you
+know, and she has ideas on the subject."
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed aloud.
+
+"You two!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Come on, Wally," urged Isabelle, taking her father by the hand.
+
+"Which car are you using?" inquired Max.
+
+"She prefers the train," he explained.
+
+This brought another outburst of mirth.
+
+"My word, Wally! You're becoming a wonderful parent!" exclaimed Mrs.
+Bryce; and they fled before her laughter.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+Wally was surprised to find the trip to town shorter than usual. His
+daughter conducted herself with great dignity, and never missed a thing.
+An unbroken stream of conversation flowed from her lips, to the
+amusement of the people in the seats near by.
+
+There was one difficult moment, when in hurrying for their seats, Mrs.
+Page spied them out.
+
+"For goodness sake, Wally, where are you going?"
+
+"Taking Isabelle to town."
+
+"Without a nurse?"
+
+"I have a governess, not a nurse," protested Isabelle, indignantly.
+
+"Oh, excuse me," laughed Mrs. Page. "Where's Max?"
+
+"Home in bed," replied Isabelle, before Wally had formed an excuse.
+
+"I hear your infant introduced an Adam-and-Eve scene into her party,"
+Mrs. Page continued.
+
+Wally glanced anxiously at Isabelle.
+
+"This is Tommy Page's mother," he explained.
+
+"I know. He's a horrid boy," she answered, feelingly.
+
+Mrs. Page retired after this, and Wally undertook to argue with his
+daughter about unbecoming frankness.
+
+"It's _true_," she protested.
+
+"You don't have to tell everything you know."
+
+"Don't you have to tell the truth?"
+
+"Not when it hurts people's feelings."
+
+She thought that over, and he wondered what she would make of it. The
+little monkey seemed to remember every word that was said to her.
+
+"Let's have a punkin coach taxi," she said when they arrived in town.
+
+"What kind is that?"
+
+"All yellow, like the Cinderella one."
+
+"They don't have them at this station."
+
+"Make them get us one," urged the young arrogant.
+
+He laughed and they went out into the street and waited until a yellow
+taxi came. As they took their seats in the coach, Isabelle gazed at her
+father speculatively.
+
+"I am Cinderella, an' you've got to be the Fairy God-mother, I s'pose,
+but you don't look like her."
+
+"Couldn't I be the Prince?" inquired Wally.
+
+"No. Besides, he didn't ride in the coach," she corrected him,
+scornfully.
+
+They stopped at a drug shop to get a list of agencies, picked at random
+from the telephone book. The first one was very depressing. There were
+several governesses, but Isabelle would have none of them, and Wally did
+not blame her. The second agency offered to summon a dozen candidates if
+he would come back in two hours. He agreed to that, and made the same
+arrangement with the third place.
+
+"Now, we've got two hours to kill. What do you want to do?" he inquired.
+
+"I want to go on top the 'bus."
+
+"It's too hot."
+
+"Well, that's what I want to do."
+
+Wally sighed.
+
+"All right, come along," he said, aware of what her determination
+usually accomplished.
+
+He thought of Max, and felt himself absolutely martyred. This was her
+job. She was a slacker to put it off on him. In his irritation he
+glanced down at the cause of it, and found her looking at him.
+
+"Wally, does the hot make you sick?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"We could go to the Zoo in a taxi."
+
+"Thank you, I should prefer that."
+
+"All right"--cheerfully.
+
+"You're a good old thing!" he remarked, as he called a second coach.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They inspected the animals, and endured the awful smells thereof, with
+great satisfaction on the part of Isabelle and much self-restraint on
+the part of her parent.
+
+"Couldn't we have a gorilla out at The Beeches, Wally?" she inquired.
+
+"Lord, no! What do you want of a beast like that?"
+
+"I like them. They're so . . . different!" she said, hesitating over the
+adjective.
+
+Wally burst out laughing.
+
+"Don't you think they are?" she inquired politely.
+
+"Yes, all of that."
+
+On the way back to the agency, he counselled her on her behaviour.
+
+"Now, don't be fresh, Isabelle, and say, 'I don't like the wart on your
+nose,' or that kind of thing."
+
+"Do I have to get one with a wart on her nose?" she asked seriously.
+
+"No, no. I mean--don't say the wrong thing all the time."
+
+"But I don't know what is the wrong thing, Wally," she assured him.
+
+"I should say you didn't! You just let me do the talking. If you like
+the one I'm interviewing, just nod; if you don't, why shake your head.
+Get me?"
+
+"Like this?"--with neck-breaking violence of the head.
+
+"No--no. Gently, like this."
+
+They seated themselves in the agency room, and the governesses were
+presented. The usual drab, rather faded women, used to living in the
+background. Some of them resented Isabelle's presence, some of them
+spoke to her as to a baby. After about three sentences had been spoken,
+her head would move violently, and Wally got rid of the candidate.
+
+"Lord! they're a sad lot," he exclaimed.
+
+"What makes them sad?" she inquired.
+
+"Kids like you."
+
+They finished the first consignment without any luck, and went to the
+second place. It was simply a repetition. Isabelle seemed to sense their
+adhesion to type, for she finally burst out with:
+
+"Wally, I'd _like_ one with a wart on the nose."
+
+He finally approached the woman in charge.
+
+"Look here," he said, "we want a young one, with some pep."
+
+The woman stared in amazement.
+
+"Isn't there some place where the new ones go to register?" he
+continued.
+
+"You might try the college agencies. Their graduates sometimes try
+governessing."
+
+She gave him some addresses.
+
+"Thanks. I think we'll try them. My daughter, here, is rather exacting."
+
+The manager peered over her desk at the child, hostilely.
+
+"I don't like you, either," said Isabelle, promptly.
+
+Wally hurried her out. He was about worn out with this unaccustomed and
+exhausting strain. It had been years since Wally spent a whole day
+boring himself. His rage at Max grew, and he vented it on Isabelle.
+
+"For God's sake, don't sass the managers! We may have to go back there."
+
+"Does God care?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"You said, 'for God's sake.'"
+
+"Did I? Excuse me. Now go easy this time. We've got to get somebody, and
+we won't find an archangel, either."
+
+"I'd like an archangel," she remarked earnestly, her flagging interest
+reviving. "But she couldn't swim with wings, could she?"
+
+Wally groaned, but made no reply. At the college agency, they telephoned
+for two applicants, and after what seemed to Wally a week of tedium,
+they arrived. The first one was pretty and she knew it. She talked a
+great deal, and was saccharine to the little girl. Isabelle shook her
+head twice, but Wally seemed hypnotized by the woman's eloquence.
+
+"Don't let her talk, Wally; I won't have her," announced Isabelle.
+
+It took considerable finesse on Wally's part to get this explained and
+to get the young woman out of the room.
+
+"One more remark from you, like that last one, and I will engage the
+next hatchet-face that appears," he thundered.
+
+"What is a hatchet-face?" she asked, with interest.
+
+The other girl was tall, and undeniably plain. She was deeply tanned by
+the sun. She looked athletic, boyish in fact. She had a nice voice, and
+clear grey eyes. She met Isabelle's inspection with a grin. The child
+slid off her chair and went over to her.
+
+"What's your name?" she asked.
+
+"Ann. Ann Barnes."
+
+"Can you swim?"
+
+"Yes," smiled the girl.
+
+Isabelle took her hand.
+
+"I'll take you," she said.
+
+The girl stared at Wally, who, so far, had made no explanation.
+
+"Is she your child?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is her mother dead?"
+
+"No, Max is my mother," explained the youngster.
+
+"You see," said Wally, "Isabelle is a little devil. You might as well
+know the worst at once. She's got no manners at all, and she's spoiled
+to death."
+
+"Wally, you don't have to tell everything you know," quoted Isabelle,
+sharply.
+
+"Upon my word!" said Miss Barnes. "How old is she?"
+
+"She's just had her fourth birthday."
+
+"But she needs a nurse, not a governess."
+
+"I won't have a nurse. I want you."
+
+"She's had a lot of women, mostly old ones. I told Mrs. Bryce I thought
+she ought to have a young woman with her, and she told me that if I knew
+so much about it, I could get her a governess myself."
+
+"I see," said Miss Barnes; "and just what do you want her governess to
+do?"
+
+"Ride and swim with her, and keep her out of mischief. I suppose you
+would teach her something--letters and counting, and all that?"
+
+"A governess usually does," she smiled.
+
+"You would have full charge of her. We live in the country from April
+till Thanksgiving, and in town the rest of the time."
+
+"Come on, Ann, let's go; I'm tired," interrupted Isabelle.
+
+"But you aren't letting this baby decide who is to take care of her?"
+she protested.
+
+"I thought it was better. She gets rid of one a month, so in the end she
+does decide."
+
+"But it's so absurd."
+
+"We're--we're an absurd family," he admitted, gravely.
+
+"Don't talk, Wally; come on."
+
+"What does she call you?" Miss Barnes inquired.
+
+"Wally. My name is Walter, but every one calls me Wally. She calls her
+mother Max. We try to break her of it, but we can't."
+
+Miss Barnes shook her head.
+
+"I want to be a governess, you know, not a nurse."
+
+Isabelle realized that a crisis was at hand.
+
+"Sometimes I'm nice, aren't I, Wally?" she appealed.
+
+Miss Barnes could not have told why, but for the first time this
+abnormal, prissy child, with her self-assurance, and her impertinence,
+caught at her sympathies. Wally saw that she wavered.
+
+"Suppose that we call it an experiment for a month. I'll pay a hundred
+dollars a month. Come out with us this afternoon and try it. She's the
+limit of a kid, but she's got a lot of sense for her age, and maybe
+she'd be all right if somebody just gave her mind to her."
+
+"I'm willing to try it for a month, if I may have full charge of her.
+Would her mother agree to that?"
+
+"Oh, Max is never home; besides, she never sees me," spoke up the child.
+
+"She does see you," protested Wally.
+
+Isabelle made no reply, but somehow Miss Barnes caught the situation--the
+sense of neglect, of the child's loneliness.
+
+"I'll come for a month at the salary you mentioned."
+
+"Good. Can you pack a bag and go out on the 4:10 with us? We'll send you
+home in a taxi and send for you."
+
+She considered a moment.
+
+"All right."
+
+She rose, explained to the head of the bureau, and later they went out
+together.
+
+"Wally, when's lunch?" demanded Isabelle.
+
+"Now. We'll send Miss Barnes off in our cab, and pick up another. A cab
+will come for you at three thirty, Miss Barnes, and we'll meet you at
+the Information booth."
+
+"I'll be there. Good-bye, Isabelle."
+
+"Good-bye, Ann."
+
+Wally and Isabelle made their way to his club, where she insisted upon
+all the _verboten_ things for lunch.
+
+"Are you allowed to eat that?" he demanded.
+
+"Oh, yes, at parties."
+
+"Don't it make you sick?"
+
+"Yes. You're always sick after parties," she replied.
+
+A man stopped at the table to address a few jocose remarks to Wally, and
+he turned his glance upon the small girl.
+
+"Who is your beautiful companion, Wally?" he inquired.
+
+"My daughter, Isabelle. This is Duncan, the Club cut-up," he added to
+his guest.
+
+She inspected the man closely.
+
+"Who cuts you up?" she inquired.
+
+"The other club members," he retorted, followed by laughter and applause
+from the surrounding tables. Isabelle beamed in the spotlight.
+
+"I like this better than Max's club," she said, to the amusement of the
+next table.
+
+"Take us on, Wally, will you?" called one of them, and at his invitation
+they all moved over.
+
+"She doesn't look like her pretty mother, Wally," said one of them after
+they were presented.
+
+"No, poor kid, she looks like me," laughed Wally.
+
+"I look like Wally, but I'm smart!" she said, and beamed again at their
+uproar of mirth.
+
+She left, later, amidst reiterated invitations to come again. One man
+tried to kiss her, but she promptly blocked that.
+
+"I don't like kissing," she said.
+
+Wally inspected her on the way to the station. Her eyes were bright, her
+colour was high. She certainly had been a success at the club. There was
+something about the little beggar----
+
+"I liked those men," she remarked.
+
+"You were too fresh," he said, anxious to prick the bubble of her
+egotism. She made no answer, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that
+she knew he had been proud of her.
+
+"If you like this new girl, and want her to stay, you've got to turn
+over a new leaf," he warned her.
+
+"I haven't any new leaf," she said.
+
+"To turn over a new leaf means to make a new beginning, to be good, to
+act like a lady," he explained.
+
+They found Miss Barnes waiting for them. As soon as they were in their
+seats, aboard the train, Isabelle went to sleep, leaning against her new
+friend. Miss Barnes smiled, made the child comfortable, and opened a
+magazine, thus relieving Wally of any necessity of conversation.
+
+As they drove up to the house, they saw Mrs. Bryce come out on the
+terrace, where the butler was arranging the tea-table and chairs. She
+wore a soft pink gown, and a broad, rose-laden hat. She looked very
+young and lovely. She sauntered to meet them with her slightly
+disdainful smile.
+
+"Well?" she said.
+
+Wally turned to present Miss Barnes, but Isabelle was before him.
+
+"Max, this is Ann Barnes," she explained.
+
+Mrs. Bryce nodded at the newcomer.
+
+"What did you do in town?" she inquired of the child.
+
+"The Zoo, and Wally's club."
+
+"I hope you don't confuse them," laughed her mother.
+
+"I don't envy you your job," she added, over her shoulder to Miss
+Barnes.
+
+"What room is Miss Barnes to have, Max?" Wally called.
+
+"You'll have to attend to that," she replied, with a sort of arrogant
+disregard of Wally's protegee.
+
+"I'll show you, Ann," said Isabelle, adding: "nasty old Max!"
+
+"Isabelle! your own mother!" protested Miss Barnes.
+
+The child took her by the hand and led her into the house, with a
+dignity which would have been admirable, had it not been so pathetic.
+Miss Barnes felt that she was stepping off terra firma, and lighting on
+Mars, so strange and muddled was this new world she had entered upon.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+It was a strange throw of Chance that tossed Ann Barnes into the heart
+of the Bryce family--or rather into its midst, for it seemed to Ann that
+there wasn't any heart to the family. The first weeks she spent at The
+Beeches were positively bewildering.
+
+She was the eldest daughter of a small-town lawyer, in Vermont. There
+were five younger children, and after Ann's graduation at the State
+University, she set forth to make fame and fortune, with the ultimate
+object of rescuing her father and mother from the financial anxieties
+which had always beset them.
+
+She was just an average healthy, fine American girl brought up in a
+normal, small-town American family. As the eldest, she had been her
+mother's assistant. She had served her apprenticeship in cooking,
+nursing babies, patching small clothes, turning old things around and
+upside down, in order to make them over. She could market wisely, she
+could "manage" on little.
+
+So much for her practical training. She knew all the inconveniences and
+anxieties of an insufficient and variable income. But she also knew the
+unselfishness, the affectionate give-and-take of a big family. She knew
+what miracles the loving patience of her mother daily performed. She
+knew the selflessness of her father, which kept him at the treadmill of
+his profession that his children might have an education, might have
+their chance. Hospitality, kindness, love; these were of the very fibre
+of Ann's being.
+
+It was part of the trick Fate played on her that Wally's offer had come
+to her the first week she was in New York, when the terror of the Big
+Town had just laid hold of her. New York, contemplated from Vermont, was
+the city of all opportunity; but New York, face to face, with a
+financial reserve of fifty dollars, was a very different matter.
+
+Isabelle had amazed and interested her, and Wally had offered her what
+seemed a fabulous salary. No wonder she had seized the opportunity, with
+happy plans of sending the first check home, intact. But daily for the
+first week, amidst the undreamed-of luxuries of The Beeches she felt
+that she must run away, back to the things she knew and understood. And
+yet every day brought her evidences of Isabelle's need of her, and Ann's
+intrinsic sense of fairness made her feel that somebody ought to stand
+by the child.
+
+Her first interview with Mrs. Bryce did not occur until the second day
+after her arrival. She waited to be summoned all of the first day, but
+heard nothing, saw nothing of her new employer. The second day she sent
+word asking for a conference. She was given an audience while Mrs.
+Bryce's maid was dressing her to go out to lunch. She nodded casually to
+Ann.
+
+"You wanted to see me?"
+
+"Yes; I--I thought we would better talk over your plans for Isabelle."
+
+"I haven't any plans for her. My only desire is to keep her out of the
+way."
+
+"But I don't know what she is permitted to do," Ann began.
+
+"She is permitted to do anything she wants to," laughed Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"But that isn't good for her"--earnestly.
+
+Mrs. Bryce's glance at the girl was full of scornful amusement.
+
+"No, but it's good for the rest of us. We can't live in the house with
+her otherwise."
+
+Ann stared. She did not know how to cope with this kind of woman. Mrs.
+Bryce made her feel a clumsy fool, a sort of country bumpkin.
+
+"This isn't my job anyway, it's Wally's. He is guiding Isabelle's
+destiny this summer. Didn't he tell you?"
+
+"Yes, but I thought the child's mother would naturally want to say----"
+blundered Ann.
+
+"Well, her mother doesn't. Do anything you can to make her less of a
+nuisance, that's my only advice."
+
+It was clear that the interview was ended, so Ann rose. With glowing
+appeal Mrs. Bryce turned her pretty face, with its sudden smile, upon
+the girl.
+
+"Nice, kind Miss Barnes, don't bother me about Isabelle, will you? She
+bores me to death."
+
+Ann got out of the room somehow. She felt cold shivers down her spine,
+as if she had touched something revolting. She thought of _her_ mother,
+and Jinny, the little sister nearest Isabelle's age. She was so homesick
+for them, she just thought she would die. She went to the nursery where
+she had left Isabelle, and, as she entered, the child was shaking hands
+with an imaginary guest, saying in perfect imitation of her mother's
+manner: "Oh, howdye do, Mrs. Page?"
+
+"Dorothy and Reginald and I are having a bridge party," she explained.
+
+But Ann didn't listen. She just picked Isabelle up in her arms, and
+hugged her tight, kissing her over and over again.
+
+"You poor baby--you poor little mite!" she said over and over.
+
+But after the first shock of surprise, Isabelle rebelled.
+
+"Don't! Put me down! I don't like to be kissed!" she cried.
+
+Ann set her down and knelt before her.
+
+"Why don't you like to be kissed?" she demanded.
+
+"Because"--defiantly.
+
+"Isabelle, have you ever been rocked and sung to and tucked into bed at
+night?"
+
+Isabelle shook her head, her big eyes fixed on Ann's face, so full of
+emotion.
+
+"Did you ever have anybody tickle you awake, in the morning, and kiss
+you until you laughed?"
+
+The child shook her head again.
+
+"It's a shame!" cried Ann. "Why Jinny gets kissed a hundred times a day
+by everybody."
+
+"Who's Jinny?"
+
+"My little sister, who is your age."
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+"In my home, up in Vermont."
+
+"What does she do?"
+
+"Sit down, and I'll tell you about her."
+
+Isabelle promptly sat down on the floor beside Ann.
+
+"In the morning, after breakfast, she picks up the papers and school
+books and toys and things the children leave around----"
+
+"What children?"
+
+"My other brothers and sisters. There's Walter and Helen and Tommy and
+Barbara, but Jinny is our baby. When she gets things picked up she dusts
+the bottoms of the chairs and the legs of the tables. Then she helps
+mother make the beds. She can beat up the pillows and tuck the sheets
+neatly."
+
+"Isn't there any chambermaid?"
+
+"No. Then she studies her letters. She almost knows them. She goes to
+market with mother, and then she plays in the yard until dinner."
+
+"Max doesn't go to market."
+
+Ann ignored that.
+
+"Then the children troop in to dinner, from school. Such a scramble,
+such a wrestling, and shouting, and face washing! You ought to hear it."
+
+"But it's _lunch_ at noon," corrected Isabelle.
+
+"No; we have dinner."
+
+"What do you have for dinner?"
+
+"Boiled beef and potatoes, bread and butter and jam, and a pudding. Then
+the older ones tramp off to school again and Jinny takes her nap."
+
+"I hate naps."
+
+"Jinny doesn't. She likes them. She knows they make her strong and
+sweet-tempered and pretty."
+
+"Would naps make me pretty?"
+
+"I think so. Everybody is pretty who has pink cheeks, and a kind
+expression, don't you think so?"
+
+"Max hasn't a kind expression; she's cross"--quickly.
+
+"But she has lovely skin, all pink and white."
+
+"I think you're prettier than Max. Then what does Jinny do next?"
+
+So the story went on with elaborate detail, until every waking moment of
+Jinny's day was accounted for. It was absorbing to Isabelle, and it was
+a satisfaction for Ann to have this outlet for her homesickness. So it
+began, but it grew to be a significant make-believe, for as the days
+went by, she discovered that Isabelle could be absolutely ruled by her
+imagination. The new game was called "Playing Jinny." She began to dust
+the nursery chairs and to pick up toys and playthings. She demanded
+lessons in letters. Any misdemeanour that was met with the remark, "Of
+course, Jinny would never do that," was never repeated.
+
+Day after day she demanded the story again, and daily Ann added to the
+picture of her mother, always at the call of her children, of her
+father, reading aloud on Friday nights, as a special treat, while they
+all sat round the fire in the shabby old living room.
+
+She described how they all worked and saved to buy Christmas presents
+for one another; how happy they were over simple gifts, even a red lead
+pencil. How they hid the presents all over the house and had a "hunt" on
+Christmas morning, instead of having a tree. The story went on and on,
+until Isabelle actually lived in the circle of the Barnes family.
+
+But one unfortunate day, Isabelle strayed into her mother's room,
+determined upon experiment.
+
+"Max, will you take me to market with you?" she inquired.
+
+"I don't go to market, silly; the housekeeper markets."
+
+"Why don't you tuck me in, and kiss me good-night?" the child continued,
+her eyes fixed on her mother's startled face.
+
+"I'm never here when you go to bed," defended Mrs. Bryce. "What is all
+this? I thought you didn't like to be kissed."
+
+"I wish you'd have six children," Isabelle sighed.
+
+"Good heavens! Isabelle, don't be silly!"
+
+So Isabelle gave it up. She realized that something was lacking. She
+sought out Miss Barnes with the problem.
+
+"Why don't Max and Wally do like father and mother Barnes?"
+
+"Well," Ann evaded, "it is different, you see. Your father and mother
+are rich, and mine are poor. Your parents have lots to do--golf and
+bridge and parties--and father and mother Barnes have only their
+children to interest them. They're just regular parents," she added,
+lamely.
+
+"But I want some regular parents," replied Isabelle.
+
+Ann was nonplussed.
+
+"We can't all have them, honey," she said. "Jinny would like lots of
+things you have--a pony, and toys, and pretty clothes."
+
+"She can have mine."
+
+"She has to do many things you would not like to do."
+
+"I don't care. I'd do them."
+
+"But you can't change your parents. God gives them to you, and you have
+to keep them," she laughed.
+
+"Then why didn't God give me regular parents?"
+
+Ann hastily diverted the youngster's thoughts into other channels, but
+she came back to it again and yet again--her desire for "regular
+parents."
+
+One of the habits acquired from Jinny was a daily nap. She religiously
+put herself to bed, after luncheon, and each day upon rising she
+inspected herself in the glass to see if she was growing prettier.
+
+"I don't see that it helps much," she said frequently.
+
+But Ann encouraged her to persevere, partly because she felt that the
+highly strung child needed the rest, and partly because it was Ann's
+only breathing space in the twenty-four hours. Usually she went for a
+walk, carrying a book under her arm.
+
+One day as she started off on such a ramble Mrs. Bryce sent for her.
+
+"Miss Barnes, would you do me a favour? The dry-cleaner in Rockville has
+a lace gown of mine which I want to wear this afternoon, when some
+people are coming to tea. Would you motor over and get it? You could
+take the imp with you."
+
+"Isabelle is asleep just now."
+
+"Go before she wakes up, then."
+
+"Could one of the maids look after her, if she wakes?"
+
+"Yes, of course. I shall be so obliged."
+
+So Ann set forth in the motor, glad of a free hour or two in the open.
+She enjoyed it to the full, and although it took longer than she had
+anticipated, she carried the gown to Mrs. Bryce's door at five.
+
+"So much obliged," said that lady, sweetly.
+
+The nursery was empty, so were the bedrooms. Ann asked the maids where
+Isabelle was. No one had seen her. She went out into the grounds and to
+all her favourite haunts, but no Isabelle. Then, thoroughly alarmed, she
+went to Mrs. Bryce's door again.
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, did you send a maid to look after Isabelle?"
+
+"Oh, no, I forgot it"--in an annoyed tone.
+
+"I can't find her."
+
+"Can't find her? Oh, she must be somewhere,"--absently.
+
+"But I have looked everywhere. No one saw her go out. I have been gone
+over two hours, you know."
+
+Something of Ann's excitement affected Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Oh, she couldn't get away far. Kate," she called to a maid in the
+dressing room, "did you see Isabelle?"
+
+"I saw her just after Miss Barnes left," said the girl. "She had on her
+best hat and coat, and I sez to her: 'Where ye goin?' an' she sez to me:
+'I'm goin' to look for some reg'lar parunts' an' she went out the side
+door. I thought somebody was lookin' after her."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, she's run away!" cried Ann.
+
+"Wouldn't you know she'd do it on a day when I was having a special
+tea!" she blazed.
+
+"Oh!" said Ann, looking the other woman straight in the eyes, and Mrs.
+Bryce knew that this girl despised her. Not that it mattered, but it was
+annoying at the moment.
+
+"Don't stand there talking. Get the chauffeur and tell him to go look
+for her," she ordered, turning to receive the lace gown that the maid
+held over her head.
+
+Ann ran out of the room, and down the stairs. She started for the beach
+where they went swimming. Henry the chauffeur passed her, calling out
+that he was going to the neighbours to inquire. Ann turned back to go to
+the gardener's lodge and find out the whereabouts of Patsy. As she ran
+she sobbed to herself, at the thought of the forlorn little figure in
+its best hat and coat, setting out on a crusade to find "regular
+parents!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FIVE
+
+
+Mrs. Bryce wore the white lace gown, and had her tea. Wally commandeered
+all the servants except the cook and the butler to help in the search
+for Isabelle. He and the chauffeur and Ann conducted scouting parties in
+all directions.
+
+"Where's Wally, Max?" inquired Mrs. Page.
+
+"He's dashing around somewhere looking for Isabelle. She's lost."
+
+"Lost? But where is the jewel who looks after her? Wally told me yards
+about her."
+
+"I sent her on an errand, and Isabelle got away. She can't have gone
+far."
+
+"Do you share Wally's enthusiasm over the new governess?"
+
+"I do not," replied Mrs. Bryce, adding, "Wally has become a passionate
+parent."
+
+"Whatever started him?"
+
+"_I_ did, worse luck! You know how all the useless men in the world dote
+on telling a woman about her duties? Now Wally's only job is to invest
+money in the wrong things, but he is full of ideas about being a
+mother."
+
+There was general mirth at this point, on the part of the guests.
+
+"I was so moved by his remarks that I dumped my cares upon him for the
+summer. He is outrageously superior about himself as parent. _He_ has
+found the perfect governess, _he_ discovers that our offspring has a
+brain; you should hear him go on."
+
+"I have," protested Mrs. Page. "He used to make love to me, but now he
+tells me his domestic problems."
+
+"He has the entire house upset now, because she has run off, but when he
+finds her, he won't have backbone enough to spank her," laughed Mrs.
+Wally.
+
+"It always amuses me how parents agonize over the lost child, and spank
+it when it's found," said Martin Christiansen, the guest of honour at
+the tea.
+
+"Not being a parent you don't realize that there is a large, well-defined
+body of parentisms. We all say the same things, do the same things to
+children, instinctively and without thought," Mrs. Page assured him.
+
+"Puts you at such a disadvantage with your child, for the youngster
+thinks freshly, doesn't it, Mrs. Bryce?"
+
+"I know mine thinks freshly--she's a brat! I keep out of her way,
+myself," remarked his hostess.
+
+Presently dusk fell and still no signs of the child. Wally came back to
+telephone the police stations of the towns near them. He barely glanced
+at the laughing group on his terrace, but Mrs. Page spied him, and came
+to call out:
+
+"Found her yet, Wally?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Better come have your tea, Wally," Mrs. Bryce suggested.
+
+"Damn," said Wally, under his breath, as he hurried into the house
+without any reply.
+
+"Had we not better go? Aren't you anxious, Mrs. Bryce?" inquired
+Christiansen.
+
+"Oh, no; she'll turn up."
+
+"Nothing will happen to her, she's too smart," commented Mrs. Page.
+
+They took their departure shortly. Mrs. Bryce ordered the cook to hold
+back dinner. Then she let her vexation grow. It was outrageous that this
+little pest should upset things so completely. She had been especially
+anxious to impress this Mr. Christiansen, whom she had recently met. He
+was a distinguished _litterateur_ and critic, as well as a stunning
+giant of a man. The white lace gown had been entirely for his benefit.
+And yet because of Isabelle he had been critical of her. Man-like he had
+convictions about woman's job. He probably thought she should have been
+running around the country, in hysterics, looking for her chee-ild.
+
+At nine o'clock she heard the motor come to the door. She went into
+the hall. Ann got out first and helped Wally. He was carrying the
+heroine--asleep, in the utter relaxation of tired babyhood. She was
+dirty, and her best hat dangled from its elastic, crushed and dusty.
+
+"Well," remarked Mrs. Bryce, "where was she?"
+
+"I'll take her up to the bedroom, Miss Barnes," Wally said, and he
+started off.
+
+"Really, Wally, Miss Barnes can certainly manage to get her to bed,"
+protested Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"She's rather heavy. I'll just----"
+
+"Put her down and let her walk then. I've waited for my dinner as long
+as I intend to."
+
+Wally went on upstairs with his burden, and as Ann passed Mrs. Bryce
+her scorn and hatred of that lace-clad lady was as obvious as a spoken
+word. Mrs. Bryce went to the table and ordered her dinner. When Wally
+joined her he looked "all in."
+
+"I suppose you don't care whether she gets killed or not."
+
+"Well, but she didn't get killed, so I don't have to excite myself, do
+I?"
+
+"You might show a little decent feeling before Miss Barnes."
+
+"I don't have to please Miss Barnes--or any of my servants, if it comes
+to that."
+
+"You're a brute, Max!"
+
+"If you're going to be tiresome, I'll finish my dinner upstairs," she
+replied. "Heaven knows, if I'd had any idea you would be such a bore
+about her, I'd never have turned her over to you."
+
+"Do you know why she ran away? She went to find some 'regular parents'--so
+she said."
+
+"We don't suit then?" Mrs. Bryce laughed crisply.
+
+"The poor little devil walked and walked, and when she was too tired to
+go any farther she asked a milk wagon driver to give her a lift, so she
+got away over to Rockville."
+
+"Where did she get this idea about parents?"
+
+"Miss Barnes explained to me on the way home, that she and Isabelle have
+a game called 'Playing Jinny.' Jinny is Miss Barnes's little sister and
+Isabelle pretends that she lives in the Barnes family."
+
+"So, it is your paragon who has set her against her own parents."
+
+"No, she didn't mean to do that. She says she had no idea that the child
+would take it seriously and start off to find the Barnes home."
+
+"Do you think it desirable to have your child in the sole charge of a
+woman who poisons her mind against you and me?"
+
+"But she doesn't do that, Max. Isabelle adores her. It was just a game,
+I tell you."
+
+"So _she_ says."
+
+On the way to the library, after dinner, they came upon Ann in the hall.
+
+"May I speak to you, Miss Barnes?" Max inquired coolly.
+
+"Certainly," the girl replied, and followed them into the room beyond.
+
+"Just what is it that you have been telling Isabelle, which sets her off
+on this ridiculous jaunt?" demanded Mrs. Bryce, insolently.
+
+"I told her about my home, and my little sister, who is her age. She
+started off to find her," answered Ann, simply.
+
+"Do you think it is a part of your duty to set her against her parents?"
+
+"I have never discussed her parents with her."
+
+"I'm sure Miss Barnes isn't to blame, Max," put in Wally.
+
+"I think she is." Mrs. Bryce cut him off. "You may take the noon train
+to town to-morrow, Miss Barnes."
+
+"Oh, I say, Max!" protested Wally.
+
+"It's all right, Mr. Bryce," Ann said. "I hate to leave Isabelle, but
+what can I do to help her? She's just doomed!"
+
+"Doomed to live with us, Wally," laughed Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Yes, doomed to live with you," the girl replied. "To get along without
+help, or love. To see her mother occasionally--a strange woman in the
+house. What right have you and your crowd to have children?" she
+demanded, hotly.
+
+"Such impudence!" burst out Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"I've never known any one like you before, and you fill me with horror!"
+Ann retorted.
+
+"This may amuse you, Wally, but it doesn't me," remarked Mrs. Bryce,
+walking out of the room.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Bryce; I didn't mean to say all that. I am so tired and
+excited from hunting Isabelle, and it seemed so terrible to me that she
+didn't care about her own baby being lost, that I just burst out."
+
+"I know how overstrained you are, but of course, under the circumstances
+you will see----" he answered miserably.
+
+"Oh, I couldn't stay in the house another minute."
+
+"Mrs. Bryce is very self-contained, she's not excitable as you and I
+are," he tried to explain.
+
+"I hate to leave Isabelle. Oh, Mr. Bryce, try to look after her a
+little, try to love her a little, she does need it so!"
+
+The next day as she stepped to the platform of the train the chauffeur
+handed her a letter from Wally. There was an enclosure of two hundred
+dollars, which he begged she would accept as a present from Isabelle.
+He thanked her and regretted the necessity of her going.
+
+So Ann passed out of Isabelle's life, mourned and lamented for months by
+the child. She represented the only tenderness, the only understanding
+and sympathy that came into Isabelle's childhood. The little belated
+tendrils of affection she had put forth toward her world, under Ann's
+warm influence, shrivelled and died. Her wits against them all, that was
+the motto she decided upon, in the bitter wisdom of her four brief
+years.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER SIX
+
+
+During the years that followed many were the governesses set up by Mrs.
+Bryce to be promptly knocked down, as it were, by Isabelle. They would
+either depart of their own accord, or they would be sent flying by the
+irate Mrs. Bryce after some escapade of her incorrigible offspring.
+
+"She'll end in a reform school!" she remarked to Wally one day, upon the
+dismissal of the latest one.
+
+He sought out his daughter and laboured with her.
+
+"Look here, kid, how many governesses have you had lately?"
+
+"Oodles of 'em."
+
+"But what do you do to them?"
+
+"Get rid of 'em, they're no good. Can't you get Max to let me have Ann
+again?"
+
+"I'm afraid not."
+
+"I won't have any of these she gets me--old snoops!"
+
+"She does the best she can," Wally defended.
+
+"She does not. She doesn't even look at 'em, just telephones for one to
+be sent out. Let's you and me go pick out another one, Wally."
+
+"I'm sorry, but your mother won't stand for it. Ann gave her a piece of
+her mind before she left, and Max blames me for it."
+
+"If she'd get Ann, I'd be so good she'd never have to change again."
+
+"Why don't you tell her that?"
+
+"I did. It makes her mad. You tell her, Wally."
+
+"She gets mad at me, too."
+
+"If you get mad back and yell at her, she stops. That's what I do," she
+advised him.
+
+"Look here, it would be a lot more comfortable for you to put up with
+some woman, even if you don't like her. You always have to get used to a
+new one."
+
+"I don't. They have to get used to me," the imp replied. "Where you
+going?" she added.
+
+"I'm going to exercise Nero."
+
+"Take me."
+
+"Can't look after you and that horse, too."
+
+"I'm not a baby," she scorned him. "Tell them to bring the pony round,
+Wally."
+
+Later when she threw her breeched leg over her horse, and waited for
+Wally to mount, he exclaimed:
+
+"Lord, I wish you'd been a boy!"
+
+"So do I."
+
+They started off. She had discarded the old Shetland pony as too
+childish, and demanded a real steed. So Wally had given her a small
+Peruvian horse, delicately made and fleet of foot. She rode him like a
+leaf on the wind. She jumped hedges and fences and ditches; she did
+circus tricks, and finally nagged Wally's Nero into a race.
+
+"You're some rider, Isabelle," he said, on the way home.
+
+"You bet I am!" she replied.
+
+At the door Matthews, the butler, announced that the new governess had
+arrived.
+
+"Damn it!" ejaculated Isabelle.
+
+Wally reproved her sharply, but she was inattentive.
+
+"Let's fire her, Wally, and you take care of me."
+
+"Would you like that?" he said, touched by this unusual mark of
+affection.
+
+"Yes. You always do what I want you to," replied his tactless child.
+
+"I have other things to do than to look after a fresh little shrimp like
+you."
+
+The "new one" was a middle-aged English gentlewoman of the usual
+governess type. Isabelle knew the kind thoroughly. She had initiated
+whole companies of them into life at The Beeches. Miss Watts, this one
+was called. She was putting her things into bureau drawers, when
+Isabelle appeared at the door of the bathroom which joined their rooms.
+
+"Is this Isabelle?" inquired the new victim.
+
+The child nodded.
+
+"How do you do? I am Miss Watts."
+
+"I know."
+
+"I hope we are going to be friends----"
+
+"I never like governesses--only one."
+
+"Why did you like this one?" inquired Miss Watts.
+
+She was so used to the lack of manners in the children she taught, that
+this one seemed no worse than usual.
+
+"Because she was young and could swim and ride and tell me stories."
+
+"I'm too old to swim and ride, but I can tell stories."
+
+She went on with her unpacking.
+
+"What kinds of stories?"
+
+"All kinds. I know hundreds of stories. Can you read?"
+
+"I know letters, and 'cat' and 'rat,' but I can't read big books. Let's
+hear you tell a story."
+
+"I will, with pleasure, when I finish here."
+
+"But I want it now."
+
+"It will take me only a little while."
+
+"But I won't wait."
+
+Miss Watts became aware that this was the initial clash of arms.
+
+"No? Well, don't let me keep you then. Is that your room?"
+
+"If you don't do what I want, I'll yell so everybody in the house will
+come to see what's the matter."
+
+Miss Watts glanced at her and smiled.
+
+"That will be interesting," she said.
+
+Whereupon Isabelle opened her mouth and emitted long, loud shrieks. Miss
+Watts continued counting handkerchiefs. The howls grew more artificial
+in quality, but louder in volume. Isabelle grew red in the face. This
+was hard work. After about three minutes of bedlam Miss Watts remarked:
+
+"But where is the audience, Isabelle? I'm afraid you have cried 'Wolf!
+Wolf!' too often."
+
+Isabelle stopped long enough to shout:
+
+"I didn't cry 'Wolf!'"
+
+"No?" said Miss Watts, seating herself by the window. "I've finished
+now. Is your concert over?"
+
+The child stared at her.
+
+"Maybe you'd be interested in the story of the man who cried 'Wolf!
+Wolf!'"
+
+Isabelle smarted under a sense of defeat.
+
+"I won't have any stories now."
+
+"Very good. Of course, I only tell stories as a favour," she added,
+pointedly.
+
+The youngster went into her own room. Miss Watts heard her banging
+around in there. Presently she appeared again.
+
+"Why did the man cry 'Wolf! Wolf!'?" she demanded.
+
+"Sit down, and I'll tell you," answered Miss Watts, pleasantly.
+
+So the story was told, and the new relationship inaugurated which was to
+last for several years.
+
+Miss Watts was a woman of considerable intellectual capacity, with a
+passion for books. She was ill-fitted for the sole charge of a
+five-year-old girl of Isabelle's vitality, but her poise and sense of
+humour won the child's respect. After that first experiment there were
+no more spasms of howling. Miss Watts never tried to sentimentalize
+their relationship. She recognized the child's unusual quality, and her
+precocity. She was at present an unendurable human being, thanks to her
+bringing up. Her ideas and ideals were servant-made. If she could be
+brought to see herself as socially an outcast, because of her bad
+manners, Miss Watts knew it would effect a cure.
+
+On her side, Isabelle found Miss Watts's mind a storehouse of treasures.
+She told stories of all countries, and all times, and she told them
+well. The only punishment ever inflicted was the abolishment of the
+story hour, and this was the only chastisement Isabelle had ever
+regarded as such. There was a marked improvement in her behaviour and
+the members of her household drew a long breath of relief.
+
+Miss Watts piqued the girl's interest in the study hours, and, as if by
+a miracle, she learned to read. The teacher found an extraordinary
+concentration of effort to acquire anything the girl desired. Promised
+the joy of finding stories for herself, the student applied herself and
+learned by magic. She was extremely proud of the new accomplishment, and
+would have read constantly if Miss Watts had not settled upon literary
+pursuits as the reward of virtue.
+
+One of the by-products of the new ability was a tighter hold on her
+leadership of the children she played with. Everything she read
+suggested new and wonderful games. As originator and inventor she always
+played the leading roles, assisted by the others.
+
+Summer days provided uninterrupted opportunity for her talents. She
+turned the playhouse into a theatre, and organized a supporting company.
+Sometimes Miss Watts assisted with the scenario, sometimes Isabelle was
+sole author or adapter.
+
+It was the year when she was eight, and just beginning to read Dickens,
+that she prepared a presentation of "A Tale of Two Cities." She worked
+at it with great enthusiasm for fully a week. Then she appeared in her
+mother's room.
+
+"Max, can I have lemonade and cake for the audience this afternoon?"
+
+"What audience?"
+
+"At the Isabelle Theatre."
+
+"Who's coming?"
+
+"Everybody. Parents and relatives. I rode around to all the houses this
+morning and issued the invitations. They all accepted."
+
+"Why didn't you consult me before you invited the neighbourhood
+in?"--hotly.
+
+"I thought you'd kick about the refreshments."
+
+"If you ever do this again you will get no refreshments and I will send
+your friends home."
+
+"They're yours too. Martin Christiansen said he would not miss it for a
+kingdom."
+
+"You call him Mr. Christiansen, when you speak of him, Miss Impudence.
+What do you intend to do to entertain all these people?"
+
+"'A Tale of Two Cities,' by Charles Dickens."
+
+"In the playhouse?"
+
+"Yes; it will be crowded, but people can sit on the floor."
+
+"You can't ask people to sit on the floor in that stuffy box!"
+
+"Well, I asked you to let me use the garage and you wouldn't."
+
+"So that's why you asked all these people."
+
+"That's only one reason. Matthews and Henry can carry chairs to the
+garage this morning. We can move the stage our own selves. The play
+begins at two."
+
+"Hottest time in the day."
+
+"You don't have to come."
+
+"Who's in your show?"
+
+"I am the star, and Tommy Page is Carton. He's no good because he
+giggles, but Mr. Christiansen wouldn't play it. I asked him first."
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed.
+
+"I suppose you could do with ice cream and cake."
+
+"We could"--promptly.
+
+"What are you going to wear?"
+
+"I have several costumes. I took your velvet opera coat for the
+rehearsal. Do you mind?"
+
+"Mind? Certainly I mind. Don't you dare touch anything in my closet."
+
+"All right," replied her daughter, coolly; "Tommy brought over his
+mother's best coat in case you were huffy."
+
+"I shall call Madge Page up this minute and tell her."
+
+"Very well, but if you do, I'll announce before the curtain goes up,
+that because of _traitors_ there are no costumes."
+
+She saw that that shot took effect.
+
+"You'd better let it alone, Max. I've got it all thought out," she
+added.
+
+"I'd like to spank you!" Max exploded.
+
+At the door Isabelle turned.
+
+"Don't you care anything about ART?" she demanded.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER SEVEN
+
+
+As Mrs. Bryce and Wally came out from luncheon, they beheld the first
+consignment of friends and relatives, a motor car full from the Pages.
+
+"We've come to the matinee," laughed Mrs. Page.
+
+"It's ridiculous of you," retorted her hostess.
+
+"I would not have missed it for anything," said Martin Christiansen.
+
+"I hear she invited you to play Carton," jeered Wally.
+
+"I never was more flattered in my life. But I persuaded her that I was
+not the type."
+
+Other motors began to arrive with beaming parents, and excited children.
+The terrace was almost crowded when finally, after much delay, and trips
+to and from the house, Teddy Horton rushed into view, announcing through
+a megaphone that the doors of the Isabelle Theatre were open. Everybody
+strolled toward the garage and soon all the "stalls" were full.
+
+Isabelle appeared before the sheets which served as curtain. She was
+pale, composed, and in deadly earnest.
+
+"Fathers and mothers, and ladies and gentlemen," she began, "we are
+going to give a play called 'A Tale of Two Cities,' by Charles Dickens
+and me."
+
+She was undisturbed by their laughter and applause.
+
+"We didn't have time to print programmes, so I will tell you the
+characters: Mademoiselle Lucy Manet--Isabelle Bryce; Dr. Manet, her
+father--Margie Hunter; Madame La Farge--Isabelle Bryce; Mr. Lorry--Margie
+Hunter; Charles D'Arnay--Teddy Horton; Sidney Carton--Tommy Page.
+Manager--Isabelle Bryce."
+
+More applause.
+
+"The first scene is An Inn. Mr. Lorry is waiting for Lucy Manet."
+
+She made a low bow, and walked off, followed by much hand clapping. Some
+time elapsed, and then by slow laborious jerks the sheets were parted,
+and Margie Hunter, a fat serious girl of nine, was discovered in her
+father's overcoat and hat, pacing the floor. She rather overdid the
+pacing, so a strident voice prompted: "My Blood!" and yet again, and
+louder: "My Blood!"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Mr. Lorry. Then in a deep chest tone, he inquired: "My
+Blood! Why doesn't Mademoiselle Lucy Manet, my old client's, child,
+appear?"
+
+Enter Lucy Manet. She wears Mrs. Page's best opera coat, which extracts
+a groan from the owner. Her bobbed brown hair is barely covered by the
+long yellow shaving curls which more or less crown her head. A
+Gainsborough hat of her mother's threatens to submerge her countenance,
+and she carries a walking stick of Wally's as a staff. But for all the
+ridiculous figure she cut, there was an earnestness and a sort of style
+to her entrance, that cut short the first outburst of laughter.
+
+"Sir, are you Mr. Lorry?" she demanded.
+
+"I am. I kiss your hand, Miss."
+
+"I have had a long trip in the stage coach. . . . Did you bring me to
+England when I was an orphan child?"
+
+"Miss Manet, it was me, but you aren't an orphan."
+
+She kneels.
+
+"Quick, sir, the truth!" she cries.
+
+"Your father is found. He is a wreckage in prison."
+
+Lucy Manet faints. Curtain.
+
+Both actors were forced to take a curtain call after this. Isabelle
+manages to push fat Margie into the wings while she stays on, bowing, to
+announce:
+
+"Margie Hunter is Dr. Manet this scene."
+
+The next scene discovers Margie Hunter, in a long beard, cobbling a
+shoe, hastily contributed by Tommy Page at the last moment. A dramatic
+and tender meeting between father and child was played in a tense key,
+only slightly marred by the frequent loss of Father Manet's hirsute
+appendage.
+
+The scene changed suddenly and unexpectedly to the court room in England
+where D'Arnay appears as prisoner. Margie Hunter played the judge. Teddy
+Horton as D'Arnay was so overcome with stage fright that Isabelle had to
+tell him all his lines. However, when it came to Lucy Manet's testimony
+the scene lifted. At the climax, just when Sidney Carton was to make his
+dramatic entrance into the story, it was discovered that Tommy had not
+his shoe. In the quick change, it had been left in the corner of Manet's
+garret. The action was held up while it was restored to him, but he put
+it on so hastily that he lost it once or twice during the scene. It kept
+his mind off his lines, rather. The moment came when the striking
+resemblance between D'Arnay and Carton is pointed out by Lucy. Tommy
+Page--plump, short, red-haired, with freckles--and Teddy Horton--tall,
+gangling, half a head taller than his double--stood side by side facing
+the audience.
+
+Up to this moment a certain restraint had marked that body, but at this
+sight they went into uncontrolled spasms of delight. Martin Christiansen,
+dramatic critic, was seen to wipe tears of joy from his cheeks. The actors
+were spurred to renewed efforts.
+
+Carton declared his eternal devotion to Lucy, in words that were
+scarcely Dickensian.
+
+"I like you, Lucy; you're all right. I'll stick to you for ever," he
+improvised frantically.
+
+The marriage scene between Lucy and D'Arnay ran something like this.
+D'Arnay, very accurate in his lines, remarks to Dr. Manet:
+
+"Dr. Manet, I love your daughter--fondly, dearly. You loved once
+yourself; let your old love speak for me!"
+
+Dr. Manet's lines escaped him, so he replied informally:
+
+"Oh--all right."
+
+Whereupon the bridal procession entered, with Isabelle as climax, in her
+mother's best tulle scarf as a veil.
+
+The scene once more shifted to Paris. D'Arnay was arrested, and
+resisted. It took the entire company to overpower and drag him forth to
+the Bastille.
+
+A bit of unequalled histrionism followed in which Isabelle entered as
+Lucy, with little Nancy Holt as her child. She proceeded to impersonate
+both that heroine and Madame La Farge. It was simpler than it sounds.
+As Lucy she still wore the wedding veil, as Madame La Farge she
+snatched off the veil, wrapped a fur boa around her, seized her mother's
+knitting, and by leaping from one side of the stage to the other, by
+using now a high voice now a low one, the illusion was perfect. The
+chee-ild was rather roughly pushed about during the scene, which was
+highly emotional.
+
+"Be merciful to my husband for the sake of my chee-ild," cried Lucy,
+passionately, pushing Nancy forward.
+
+"Never!" growled Madame La Farge, pushing Nancy back.
+
+"Don't, Isabelle, you hurt," objected Nancy, but quailed into silence at
+Isabelle's terrible look.
+
+The audience was almost hysterical.
+
+The part where Carton rescues D'Arnay and changes places with him,
+important climax though it is in the book, was omitted by the dramatist,
+because it had no opportunity for Isabelle. D'Arnay arrived in Carton's
+clothes, many inches too small for him, and explained to Lucy what had
+occurred. So she and her child and her husband escape.
+
+The curtains were closed now, and the audience stirred as if to rise.
+Isabelle rushed forth.
+
+"Sit still," she commanded, "it isn't over yet."
+
+There was a long wait, and much hammering back on the stage. Then the
+curtains parted again on the big realistic moment of the drama.
+Suspended at back was what at first glance looked to be a wooden window
+frame. It was suspended from above by ropes, which disappeared over the
+gallery which ran around the garage. Under this frame was a wooden
+saw-horse, and beneath that a pail. Only a look sufficed to show that
+this was _La Belle Dame sans Merci_, the guillotine.
+
+A ragged rabble appeared at back, shouting and shaking fists. Then--led
+forward by D'Arnay and the able Margie who had been Dr. Manet, Lorry,
+and the Judge--came the blind-folded figure of the hero, Carton. They
+led him to the foot of that terrible machine of destruction, and after
+several vain promptings from the gallery above, Carton cried in a loud,
+manly voice:
+
+"It's a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a
+far, far better rest I go to, than I have ever known."
+
+Then he laid his noble head on the saw horse, and _bing!_ went the
+window frame down on his neck.
+
+"Gosh!" yelled Carton, just as it struck; and then no more.
+
+"Good Lord! Tommy!" cried his mother excitedly from the audience. "I
+think she's killed him."
+
+"He's all right," cried Isabelle from the gallery. "There wasn't any
+knife in it--it couldn't hurt him much, unless it just broke his neck."
+
+Carton sat up and lifted a red and angry face toward her.
+
+"It just about did break my neck, you big nut!" he cried, feeling
+himself, gently. "I told you that darned thing wouldn't work."
+
+"Draw the curtain," hissed Isabelle fiercely, sensing that the shouts of
+the audience were too abandoned to be complimentary.
+
+The curtains were hitched shut, and she looked over the balustrade on
+to the group below. Wally was beating Christiansen on the back, and Max
+was laughing hysterically. Mrs. Page, whose stupid maternal plans had
+nearly ruined the climax, was now panting for breath.
+
+Isabelle, even while she was delighted with their applause, despised
+them. Had they no feeling for the noble tragedy of Carton? Of course,
+Tommy Page, the fool----just then she caught Martin Christiansen's eye.
+He held up his hands to her, clapping, and bowing and throwing kisses.
+He rushed to the garden, and came back with a huge sunflower which he
+tossed to her, calling: "Author!"
+
+After many and prolonged calls, Isabelle came modestly forth.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "I think Mr. Charles Dickens is dead; if he is, I
+will thank you for him."
+
+"Company! Company!" shouted the parents and relatives. Isabelle felt
+this to be bad discipline for the actors, but after a moment's
+hesitation, she led them all forth.
+
+Martin Christiansen was the first to reach her side. With a low bow he
+indicated the sunflower which she carried.
+
+"My flower!" he murmured tenderly. "Isabelle, I've seen them all,
+Bernhardt, Duse, Fiske, but I've never seen any acting that could be
+compared with yours!"
+
+It was that supreme moment which made up to Isabelle for everything else.
+She knew then the joy of appreciation--knew that Martin Christiansen was a
+finer soul, and akin unto her own!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER EIGHT
+
+
+Isabelle's debut as dramatist and actress was much discussed and laughed
+over in the colony. Her pranks had long been a favourite topic, but this
+last one marked her as a real personality.
+
+"Isabelle," Martin Christiansen said to her, a day or so after the
+performance, "you gave me so much pleasure with your interpretation of
+Mr. Dickens's work, that I want to do something for your pleasure."
+
+"Do you?" said Isabelle, enthusiastically.
+
+"Theatrical stars are so temperamental, I scarcely know what to suggest.
+What does a leading lady and producer like to do in her moments of idle
+ease?"
+
+It was a great opportunity, and Isabelle considered it at length.
+
+"I should like to go bathing on the club beach, and have lunch
+afterwards on the club porch."
+
+"Most reasonable of Leading Ladies, what day would suit you best?"
+
+"To-morrow"--promptly.
+
+"Good. Shall we say at eleven? I will give myself the honour of coming
+for you."
+
+"You ask Max to let me go, will you?"
+
+"With pleasure. Shall we ask the other members of your company, too?
+Does a star permit the company to eat below the salt?"
+
+"Oh no, don't let's have them--just you and me."
+
+"Most flattering. I would prefer that."
+
+"You won't ask the Wallys?"
+
+"You refer to your parents?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"This is your party--you may ask the guests," he laughed.
+
+So it was decided, and Christiansen broke the news to her mother.
+
+"I think she should have a chaperon. You might ask me."
+
+"She was very explicit that the party was to be a tete-a-tete."
+
+"She'd never ask me," laughed her mother.
+
+"Aren't you friendly?"--curiously.
+
+"Oh, not at all."
+
+The next morning Max honoured Miss Watts and Isabelle with an unexpected
+call.
+
+"What is she going to wear, Miss Watts?" she inquired.
+
+"I'm going to wear my riding clothes," announced Isabelle.
+
+"How ridiculous! You're going in a motor, not on a horse."
+
+"I don't care. I look better in my riding clothes."
+
+"You'll put on a white organdie frock and a big hat."
+
+"I won't! I hate those girl-things! They look silly on me."
+
+"All children of your age wear white dresses and pink sashes, Isabelle,"
+interpolated Miss Watts.
+
+"Well, I'm not a pink-sash child!" quoth Isabelle, with one of her flashes
+of insight.
+
+"Oh, well, Miss Watts, let her go in her riding boots. If she wants to
+make a laughing-stock of herself, let her! Poor Mr. Christiansen will be
+sorry he ever asked her!" said Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Very well. I'll wear a white linen dress, with a black belt, and my
+black hat," announced the girl.
+
+"Chaste, but not gaudy," laughed her mother, as she sauntered from the
+room.
+
+When she was finally dressed Isabelle walked to a long mirror and
+surveyed herself at length. Her slim, pretty legs in their black silk
+stockings caught her eye.
+
+"Don't you think I have nice legs?" she inquired of Miss Watts.
+
+"Um--rather. They are serviceable at least."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The party was a marked success. A great many people were bathing, which
+always made it exciting. They went out to the raft and Christiansen and
+some other men took turns in throwing her off. It was perfect for
+Isabelle. Then, afterward, all the tables were full on the club veranda,
+when Mr. Christiansen led his guest to a two-chair table, marked
+"RESERVED." Everybody smiled and nodded at them. She saw Wally and Max
+cross the room grinning at her. But she bore herself with great dignity,
+and it seemed to her that life held nothing more, when Christiansen
+seated her. There was a tiny, old-fashioned bouquet at her plate.
+
+"Is this for me?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes. My offering on the day of your triumph was so inadequate, I wanted
+to do better to-day. By the way, I ordered the lunch. I trust you do not
+mind."
+
+"Oh, no. That's all right," she replied graciously.
+
+"It seems to me you are looking very fine to-day."
+
+She looked at him gravely.
+
+"I had an awful time about my clothes," she confessed. "Max wanted me to
+wear a party dress and a sweety hat----"
+
+"What is a sweety hat?" he inquired with interest.
+
+"Oh, you know the kind--floppy, with cherries on it, and everybody says:
+'Oh, isn't she sweet?'"
+
+Her host smiled.
+
+"You object to being thought sweet?"
+
+"Yes. I'm not that kind of a child."
+
+"What kind of a child are you, Isabelle?"
+
+"I'm plain, but I've got a great line of talk," was her unexpected
+answer.
+
+"A witty tongue is worth all the pretty faces in the world," laughed
+Christiansen. "But I wouldn't call you so plain."
+
+"I look very well in my riding clothes."
+
+"Do you?"
+
+"Have you seen me in them?"
+
+"No, I regret to say."
+
+"Well, you must."
+
+"Thank you. I take it that you did not accept your mother's advice upon
+your costume?"
+
+"Oh, no. I never do. Parents have such silly ideas, don't you think?"
+
+"I suppose they do, poor things."
+
+"You have to have them, of course"--politely.
+
+"In this badly arranged world," he admitted.
+
+"So many people are having babies this summer," she remarked.
+
+"Are they, indeed?"
+
+"Oh, yes. The Hunters and the Reillys, both have them."
+
+"Do I know the Reillys?"
+
+"He is the gardener at The Beeches. Patsy is my best friend."
+
+"Is he a member of your company?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He was away when we did 'The Tale of Two Cities.' He speaks
+rather Irishly, but he's a good actor."
+
+"Your leading man seemed to have a comedy talent."
+
+"Tommy Page? He's a terrible fool, but we had to have him. There never
+are enough boys to go round for the parts."
+
+"So often happens in summer resorts," he agreed. "Why not have a company
+of Amazons and disdain the weaker sex?"
+
+"You mean all girls?"
+
+"The Amazons were, you know."
+
+"They fuss so, and get mad. They always want to play the best parts.
+With boys, you can just _settle_ them."
+
+"You nearly settled poor Tommy Page on the guillotine," he laughed.
+
+"He nearly spoiled everything, the poor coward. He couldn't stand a
+little pain."
+
+"Peculiar to our sex, Isabelle; not Tommy's fault, strictly speaking."
+
+"He'll never get another good part," she said firmly.
+
+They were just finishing their ice cream, chatting amiably, when Wally
+came to their table.
+
+"Hello," he remarked.
+
+Isabelle bowed.
+
+"Hope I don't interrupt?" he added.
+
+"Not at all. Won't you sit down?"
+
+"No, thanks. Just ran over to say that we'll take the kid off your hands
+after lunch."
+
+"Oh, don't bother----"
+
+"Certainly we will. The car is going back in ten minutes with Max, and
+she can go along."
+
+Isabelle could have cried with rage. As it was she swallowed hard, and
+when Christiansen said: "Is that agreeable to you, Isabelle?" she nodded
+assent, but the look she cast at Wally might have assassinated him. He,
+blissfully unaware of it, sauntered away.
+
+"Don't hurry. Wouldn't you like some more ice cream?" her host
+suggested.
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+She did not really want it, but it might serve to delay the hated
+departure. The car might go without her, and Christiansen would then
+take her home. She dawdled over the second ice cream, chatting
+feverishly to prevent his suspecting her plan. But the end came, as the
+end needs must, and on the veranda they found her mother waiting.
+
+"If she has been eating all this time, you must be bankrupt," she
+laughed as they joined her.
+
+"Our conversation absorbed considerable time, didn't it, Isabelle?"
+
+"Yes"--gravely.
+
+"Did you behave yourself?" inquired her mother.
+
+"Perfectly," Christiansen hastened to say.
+
+"Well, make your manners and get into the car," ordered her parent.
+
+Christiansen leaned over her hand gallantly.
+
+"Thank you for giving me so much pleasure," he said in a confidential
+tone.
+
+"Thank you. I loved it," she whispered ardently.
+
+On the way home her mother glanced at her.
+
+"Have a good time?"
+
+"You and Wally spoiled it!"--hotly.
+
+"What did we do?"
+
+"Treating me like a infunt!"
+
+"Which you are," retorted her mother.
+
+Later, in talking it over with Miss Watts, Isabelle said:
+
+"Mr. Christiansen is my ideal. He thinks he would not call me very
+plain," she added. Then, "Miss Watts, what is an Amazon?"
+
+"The Amazon is a river."
+
+"But he said a comp'ny of Amazons."
+
+"Oh, they were women warriors," instructed the teacher, and expounded
+the subject at some length.
+
+"What did they wear?" demanded Isabelle.
+
+"We'll look up some pictures of them and find out."
+
+"Riding clothes would do," mused Isabelle.
+
+"Nicely, I should say."
+
+The next day she organized the Isabelle Amazons. They were only four in
+number, counting Nancy Holt, who was under size, but they drilled and
+hunted and rode to battle in the wake of their peerless leader. They met
+imaginary foes. They challenged Tommy Page and Teddy Horton to mortal
+combat, and put them to flight. It was a wonderful game, and Isabelle
+thrilled to think that it was "her ideal" who had suggested it.
+
+"When am I going to entertain Mr. Christiansen?" she asked her mother.
+
+"_You_ entertain him?"
+
+"Certainly. He had me to lunch, didn't he?"
+
+Mrs. Bryce laughed.
+
+"I'm having a house party over the week end and he is coming."
+
+"This week end?"
+
+"Yes. Your beau arrives on the noon train Saturday."
+
+"But I am spending the day with the Hunters Saturday," the child
+protested.
+
+"I can't help that," replied her parent.
+
+"May I come down to dinner Saturday night?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Can't I come in with the cocktails, and stay till you go to the dining
+room?"
+
+"Nobody wants you under foot."
+
+"He's my friend just as much as he is yours!" blazed Isabelle.
+
+"You can see him at tea."
+
+"With everybody around? I have something private to tell him."
+
+"What, pray?"
+
+"About Amazons."
+
+"Well, we'll not have Amazons with the cocktails, I can tell you that,"
+said her mother with finality.
+
+Isabelle brooded over the matter until the end of the week. She tried to
+get out of the day with Margie Hunter, but Mrs. Bryce was glad to be rid
+of her and forced her to go. She ordered Miss Watts not to go after her
+until half past five, when tea would be safely over.
+
+Isabelle composed a note of explanation and left it on the bureau in the
+room which Christiansen was to occupy.
+
+    DEAR FRIEND:
+      Because of others, and Margie Hunter's mother I cannot meet you
+    at the station. I have to spend the day with old Margie Hunter.
+    I have organized the Amazons, as you said, and we are strong and
+    true, in riding breeches. I have a plan, but don't tell Max.
+                                  Your loving friend,
+                                                         ISABELLE BRYCE.
+
+She forgot her troubles somewhat at the Hunters'. All the Amazons were
+there, as well as Margie's brother, Herbert, an elderly person of
+twelve, with some of his friends. They treated the girls with great
+scorn until Isabelle told them the story of the persecutions she endured
+at home, in order to be an Amazon. It featured imprisonment in a tower
+room, on a diet of bread and water, branding irons and flogging with a
+buckled strap. They formed a delighted circle about her, and urged her
+on.
+
+"Some little liar, that kid!" exclaimed Herbert. "_Then_ what did you
+do?"
+
+The big boys followed her about all day, to the exclusion of the other
+Amazons, who took refuge in chanting derogatory remarks, such as:
+
+"Herbie Hunter is stuck on Isabelle!"
+
+When 5:30 arrived and with it, Miss Watts, Isabelle departed with a
+feeling of a day well spent. She turned her thoughts to the next event.
+They had a puncture on the way, and the terrace and halls were deserted
+when they arrived home. Miss Watts hurried her off to the schoolroom,
+for supper, and urged her to take her bath and go to bed after her
+strenuous day. The child was docility itself.
+
+While she was at supper a note was brought to her. It was from
+Christiansen. She read:
+
+    MY DEAR ISABELLE:
+      You cannot imagine what a pleasant welcome your note gave me. I
+    am thrilled to know that I am under the roof with a real Amazon,
+    and I live in the expectation of seeing you "strong and true in
+    riding breeches."
+                                  Your devoted admirer,
+                                                    MARTIN CHRISTIANSEN.
+
+An idea was born at that moment! When Miss Watts went to carry the
+supper tray downstairs, because the maids were busy, Isabelle hastily
+donned her riding clothes, turned on the bath water to mislead Miss
+Watts on her return, crept down the stairs and out. From the terrace she
+peered into the long drawing room. The French doors leading on to the
+terrace were open wide, and in the softly lighted room she saw the
+house-party guests assembling. They straggled in, one by one. Isabelle's
+eyes brightened at Christiansen's big boom of laughter, and she admired
+his broad shoulders, as he leaned on the mantelpiece at the far end.
+
+She flew to the stables, crept in at the back, led out the Peruvian
+horse, saddled, mounted him, and kicked him gently in the flanks. Up and
+onto the terrace she guided him, just as indoors, Matthews arrived with
+the cocktails.
+
+In through the open windows rode Isabelle, and slowly down the long
+drawing room. Everybody gasped.
+
+"Isabelle Bryce!" cried her mother.
+
+"Martin," she said eagerly, "this is how I look as an Amazon!"
+
+It was part of the cruel fate that dogged her, that at this supreme
+moment the Peruvian horse slipped on a rug on which Matthews happened to
+be standing, whereupon they all went down together, pouring a generous
+libation of cocktails at Christiansen's feet!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER NINE
+
+
+Poor Isabelle languished in disgrace in her own room for the two days of
+her mother's house party, as a result of her Amazonian entrance to the
+dinner. Martin Christiansen pleaded her case, took the blame upon
+himself; the rest of the party laughed heartily over the episode and
+demanded more Isabelle, but Max remained adamant and refused to release
+the prisoner.
+
+Wally visited his daughter on Sunday, carrying a note from Christiansen.
+He expected to find her raging at her confinement, but, instead, she was
+curled up in a chair with a book on her lap, and he had to speak to her
+twice before she heard him.
+
+"Hello, Wally," she said, unenthusiastically.
+
+"Hello. How are you getting on?"
+
+"Fine."
+
+"Pity you have to be shut up this nice day."
+
+"I like it."
+
+He grinned derisively.
+
+"I do--honust."
+
+"What was your idea of coming into the drawing room on a horse, anyhow?"
+
+"I wanted to show Mr. Christiansen something. He understood it all
+right."
+
+"Made your mother hopping."
+
+"Oh, well, she's always hopping. Why didn't you ask Mr. Christiansen
+up?"
+
+"Against orders. No one admitted. He sent a note," he added, handing it
+over.
+
+Isabelle read:
+
+    DEAR CAPTIVE ISABELLE:
+      Do you languish in your dungeon cell? Your true knight points an
+    arrow with this missive, and shoots it in at your window. (I
+    trust your father will not resent this poetic license.) I was
+    thrilled at the sight of you as an Amazon, and I agree about the
+    riding breeches!
+                                  Yours eternally,
+                                                    CHRISTIANSEN-KNIGHT.
+
+"What's poetic license?" she asked Wally.
+
+"Poetic license? Why--it's some kind of license poets get, I suppose."
+
+"Like a dog license, or a chauffeur's?"
+
+"Well, something like that. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothing."
+
+"What's the book?"
+
+"'Idylls of the King.'"
+
+"Good?"
+
+"Great. I'm going to give it in my theatre."
+
+"Playing all the parts yourself?" he teased.
+
+"All the important ones," she answered, seriously.
+
+"Shall I tell your mother that you are enjoying yourself?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'll toddle along now, I guess."
+
+"Wait a minute. I have to answer him."
+
+"Hurry up about it then."
+
+Wally took up her abandoned book, while she went to her desk to compose.
+
+    Dearest Knight:
+      I languish a little, but not much. I'm writing a play out of
+    "Idylls of the King." I wish you would be Launcelot, Tommy Page
+    could be Merlin. I knew you would understand about the Amazon
+    and horse. I'm glad you liked the . . .
+
+"How do you spell breeches, Wally?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"_Breeches._"
+
+"B-r-e-e-c-h-e-s. What are you saying about them?" he inquired, coming
+to look over her shoulder.
+
+"This is private," she said, and wrote:
+
+    . . . breeches. Wally did not mind your license. He thought you
+    ought to have it. The police are so crooel.
+                                  Your loving friend,
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+She folded and addressed it carefully.
+
+"Here it is."
+
+"What do I get for running the blockade for you like this?" he inquired.
+
+"Much obliged, Wally," she answered, returning to her chair and her
+book.
+
+"You don't appreciate me!" he protested.
+
+"Yes, I do, Wally. I like you the best of all my parents."
+
+Upon her subsequent release, Isabelle turned her entire attention to a
+continuous presentation of the "Idylls." Every day the story progressed,
+and it would have occupied her abilities for some time, save for an
+accident.
+
+The company, including Tommy Page and Teddy Horton, had gathered at
+Margie Hunter's, where there was a swimming pool. Isabelle planned to
+stage a scene with herself as "Elaine, the fair, the beautiful,"
+floating in the Hunters' canoe, laboriously carried up from the shore by
+the entire company.
+
+They launched the craft, and laid out Elaine, with flowers about her,
+hastily plucked from the garden, and the play was all ready to go on,
+when Herbert's crowd came by, on the way to a baseball match. At the
+arresting sight of the Lily Maid of Astelot, they halted and demanded
+explanations. These were received with exclamations of derision and
+delight, so that the incensed leading lady rose from her barge, landed,
+and pursued them with the canoe paddle. They gave her a race to the
+baseball diamond, where they disarmed her by force, and forgot her.
+
+She sat down and watched their preparations. She heard their mighty
+oaths against the ninth man of the team, who hadn't "showed up." She
+offered to play, but they jeered at the idea. Herbert Hunter urged her
+acceptance as a sub, saying that they could throw her out when the
+regular fellow came.
+
+The game was new to Isabelle but she concentrated fiercely upon Herbert
+Hunter's orders. By happy accident when she came to bat, she shut her
+eyes, fanned the air, and knocked a home run. She sped around the bases
+like a "greased rabbit" as Herbert said. When it came to pitching, she
+did not star.
+
+"But she's got a loose arm; she could learn all right," her champion
+remarked.
+
+It was the proudest compliment of her life. The deserted "Idylls of the
+King" company came and sat at a safe distance and watched her,
+wide-eyed. Tommy Page rushed forward, shouting:
+
+"Let me play, Herbert."
+
+"Aw, get out of here, kid. We don't want any babies!" was the brief
+reply.
+
+"Isabelle's a baby!" howled Tommy.
+
+Now Isabelle happened to be toying with a bat when Tommy made this
+disparaging remark threatening to topple her off the dizzy height she
+had attained. She saw red! She made an infuriated rush upon him, and
+brought the bat down on his offending head. Tommy crumpled up like a
+paper doll. There was an awful moment of silence.
+
+"She's killed him," one of the boys whispered.
+
+Herbert tried to stand Tommy up, but his legs folded under him and his
+head fell back, so they laid him down again. Isabelle stood, rooted to
+the ground. Her terror had frozen her.
+
+"I'll call mama," cried Margie Hunter.
+
+"No, you won't. We must keep it from the police!" ordered her brother.
+
+A shudder went through Isabelle.
+
+"But if he's _dead_?" protested Teddy Horton.
+
+"Let's pour some water on him," suggested somebody.
+
+They all ran to get it, all except Herbert and Isabelle. He noted the
+anguish of her set face.
+
+"Never mind, Isabelle; maybe he's only a little bit dead," he comforted
+her.
+
+"Will we have to bury him?" she asked, through chattering teeth.
+
+"I suppose so--sometime."
+
+The others returned with a pail of water. They were for dumping it in
+one deluge upon poor Tommy, but Herbert prevented their drowning him.
+
+"That isn't the way, you nuts! You dribble it on him. Here, give it to
+me."
+
+He knelt over Tommy and poured a slow stream of cold water on his face
+and down his neck. When this had no effect he continued the stream over
+his body, clad in linen clothes, much as one waters a flower bed. The
+children held their breath and watched. Signs of returning life were
+visible. As the cold shower struck the pit of his stomach, one knee
+hitched. Encouraged, Herbert spilt the last pint in his upturned face.
+It contorted, he choked, gasped, yelled defiantly:
+
+"Mmmm-bah-what ye doin'?"
+
+Margie Hunter knelt at his head.
+
+"You aren't dead, are you, Tommy?"
+
+"I'm all wet," he exclaimed, irritably.
+
+Isabelle still stood on the spot where she had struck the blow. Her face
+was set and white.
+
+"I guess we better get him in the house now," Herbert advised.
+
+"What will we tell them?" Margie asked.
+
+Herbert looked at Isabelle, then he swept them all with a chieftain's
+glance, and remarked:
+
+"Tommy fell into the pool, an' nearly drownded himself. Get me?"
+
+They nodded.
+
+"Make a stretcher with crossed hands."
+
+His men obeyed.
+
+"Now, you girls, move him onto our hands."
+
+They all worked except Isabelle, who never moved.
+
+"Quit. I want to walk," said Tommy.
+
+"All right, Tommy. You fell into the pool."
+
+"I did not," said Tommy.
+
+"Yes, you did, and if you leave it to us, we'll square it so you won't
+get licked," Herbert promised.
+
+The stretcher men rose and bore the hero off toward the house, followed
+by the children, all except Isabelle. Her breath came in agonized gasps.
+As they disappeared she threw herself down on her face and let her
+nerves have full sway. She did not cry tears, but her body shook in a
+nervous storm of excitement, and misery. She did not hear the swift feet
+that approached, she scarcely heard Herbert's embarrassed voice saying:
+
+"Say, Isabelle, it's all right. The chambermaid put him to bed and
+telephoned his mother to send him some clothes."
+
+She raised her tragic face to him.
+
+"Will the police take me?" she whispered.
+
+Without meaning to do so at all, Herbert dropped down beside her.
+
+"You didn't kill him. He's all right," he repeated.
+
+Then as a nervous tremor shook her body, he patted her, awkwardly.
+
+"You're all right, Isabelle, it was just an accident," he comforted
+her.
+
+She shook her head, and the tears came. Herbert leaned over and planted
+a kiss under her right ear. She stopped crying. He did not know what
+more to say, so he just sat by. In that half hour of self-accusation, of
+reaction from terror, of the consciousness of the sympathy of a friend
+who had saved her from the police, Isabelle closed the chapter of
+childhood and stepped over into young girlhood.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TEN
+
+
+During the next few years of Isabelle's life she was more of a trial to
+her household than ever before, if such a thing were possible. She
+overplayed the tomboy, just as she did every role she essayed.
+
+From the moment Herbert Hunter came to her rescue in the affair of Tommy
+Page, he was exalted to the highest pedestal in her temple of worship.
+Boys knew what loyalty meant. Her hero had forced all the witnesses on
+that occasion to keep absolute silence about it--with police, arrest,
+and prison terms as alternatives. That he, "an older boy," should
+condescend to champion her cause was a triumph for our heroine.
+
+She scorned girls, she endured only the society of males from this time
+on. She could scarcely be forced into any costume but her riding
+clothes. She applied herself to sports until she played better than most
+boys. By disguising this fact, and pretending to be a mere novice, she
+was admitted to their games.
+
+Herbert accepted her as Man Friday with considerable reluctance, but she
+made him feel that her very gratitude gave her a sort of hold on him.
+She was very useful, if you knew how to handle her; and sheer loss, if
+you did not. She abhorred authority. If you told her she must do a
+thing, she stubbornly refused. If you asked it as a favour, it was done
+instantly. If you dared her to do a thing, nothing could stop her. She
+was appallingly indifferent to danger. She terrified the more timid
+souls in Herbert's crowd. But aside from the fact that she was good at
+their games, her main contribution was the original things she thought
+up for them to do.
+
+She had, at fourteen, a fair acquaintance with American history, and she
+devised rare amusements, based on the primitive life of our pioneer
+forefathers. These games lasted for weeks. Bands of Indians preyed on
+the settlers; the settlers sent messengers to the tribal chiefs. There
+were periods of parleying, smoking of the peace pipe; there were war
+dances and uprisings.
+
+The scene might run like this. The ship which was bringing the pilgrims,
+was wrecked off the beach, and the passengers took refuge in rowboats
+and canoes, from which they landed upon the unfriendly shores. Red men
+lay in wait for them, lurking behind sand forts. Occasionally when women
+settlers were absolutely necessary, Margie Hunter and the other girls
+were allowed to come along, but for the most part they were ruthlessly
+shut out. Isabelle, as author and stage manager, was indispensable and,
+therefore, safe.
+
+It took much strategy on Isabelle's part to effect her freedom. She
+assured Miss Watts that all the children went daily to play at the
+Hunters', because there was a pool, and "You have the most fun there";
+so when, of an afternoon, Miss Watts accompanied her to the Hunters',
+and stayed chatting with the Hunter governess until it was time to go
+home, her charge was always wonderfully behaved until she was out of
+sight. Then she left the girls and sped off to her true companions.
+Margie threatened to tell on her, but Herbert took the matter in hand,
+and nothing came of the threat.
+
+Of course Max and Wally had no idea of her associations; that was Miss
+Watts' business. Isabelle played with the children of the right set,
+which was all that really mattered. That she swaggered and boasted and
+whistled about the house, these were annoying details, but she had
+always been a pest.
+
+Wally protested once against her hoydenish manners.
+
+"You talk like a jockey, Isabelle. You haven't a grain of feminine
+charm."
+
+"Feminine charm! Ha!" snorted his daughter, with scorn.
+
+"You'd better try to acquire a little. You'll need it," he warned her.
+
+"Need it for what?"
+
+"Need it for your business."
+
+"What is my business?"
+
+"Getting married."
+
+She stared at him with an angry flush mounting her face. She turned and
+mounted the stairs, leaning over to shout as she went, with unmistakable
+emphasis:
+
+        "When you've bats in your belfry that flut,
+        When your _comprenez-vous_ line is cut,
+          When there's nobody home
+          In the top of your dome,
+        Then, your head's not a head; it's a nut!"
+
+Wally swore gently, and gave it up.
+
+Isabelle's life seemed to run in a series of crises. It was always
+mounting toward or descending from a climax. The present summer of her
+fourteenth year was no exception.
+
+The historic American scenes were still highly popular, but Isabelle's
+creative spirit was not yet satisfied. She was preparing the episode of
+John Smith and Pocahontas, to be played by Herbert Hunter and herself as
+principals, when it occurred to her that the scene ought to be played,
+by night, in the woods. She proposed it to Herbert but he scoffed at it.
+They never could manage. How could they get away at night? But Isabelle
+had it all planned.
+
+Her idea was to pick out the spot in the woods, put up the tepees,
+collect the firewood, lay in supplies, and get everything ready in
+advance. Saturday night would be the best one for the encampment,
+because their parents always dined and danced at the club that night, so
+the coast would be clear so far as they were concerned.
+
+"It isn't parents, it's servants that will get in our way," objected
+Herbert.
+
+"If you _think_ how to get by them, Herbert, you can," urged the
+temptress.
+
+"How? Just tell me how I can get past old Mademoiselle when she sits in
+the hall outside my door?"
+
+"Tell her you forgot something downstairs, and then run out."
+
+"Fat chance! She'd give the alarm and they'd all come on the jump."
+
+"Well, if _I_ can get out, I should think _you_ could," she taunted
+him.
+
+"How'd we get back in? Suppose parents got back before we did."
+
+Her inspiration flared like a torch.
+
+"We'd sleep in the tents all night."
+
+"Gee!" said Herbert. This was sheer daring. It captured his imagination.
+He decided to submit it to the others. A council was called. They in
+turn were struck dumb by the idea that they should spend a night in the
+woods, untrammelled by authority.
+
+It took an enormous amount of planning and preparation. The problem of
+the best means of escape for each member was taken up and decided upon.
+The hour for meeting, and the place, were named. Governesses as a rule
+had their dinners early, with the children. Later, each boy was to
+complain of weariness or headache and go directly to bed. At nine
+o'clock they would make a getaway and meet at a certain spot, centrally
+located for them all. All of them had ponies, so they could ride to the
+trysting place. Blankets must be brought by each camper, and it was
+agreed that they would sleep in their clothes.
+
+The day came. As the idea was to be kept secret from all girls, Isabelle
+had some trouble managing not even to see Margie Hunter, with whom she
+was, ostensibly, to spend the day. She induced Wally to drop her at the
+Hunters' on the way to the club.
+
+The boys were hard at work. They greeted her casually, as was their
+habit. It was the way they kept up the bluff to themselves that they
+had no use for girls. Isabelle was satisfied with their manners. She
+knew in her own mind that she was the brains of the whole concern, so
+why cavil at their bluff, male ways?
+
+They worked like beavers all day long. They went without any luncheon.
+They lugged out the tents and set them up. They made beds of boughs.
+They laid fires ready for the torch. They cached the grub in a hollow
+tree out of the way of prowling creatures. They carried out pails of
+drinking water, and borrowed the kitchen utensils from Margie's
+playhouse. It was late afternoon when they limped wearily back to the
+Hunters' in search of food.
+
+"Mother was awf'ly mad at you, Isabelle, because you kept luncheon
+waiting," said Margie, snippily. "Where have you been?"
+
+"Oh, we were playing, and we thought we'd go without any lunch. I hope
+there's tea, though," she added.
+
+There was; and they put away quantities of bread and butter, with jam,
+and lemonade, which infuriated the cook, who had to supply the demand.
+They parted, later, with fervent farewells, _sotto-voce_ remarks, and
+mysterious signs.
+
+At home, Isabelle got ready for her supper without being told, and sat
+quietly with a book until she was called. A close observer might have
+noted that she never turned a leaf, that when a motor chugged off
+bearing her parents, she was seen to smile and sigh.
+
+After supper, she complained of utter weariness and went to bed. Miss
+Watts looked in at half past eight; Isabelle was breathing evenly. A
+few moments later, she heard the governess close the door between their
+two rooms. Immediately she got up, dropped her night gown, worn over her
+riding clothes, and slipped out. A moment later she was in the stable,
+getting a saddle on her horse, tying her blanket to the horn. She
+managed her exit without interference, because Saturday night there were
+"doin's" among the servants.
+
+Once on the road, she let the pony run. She had never been out alone at
+night before. It was scary, she admitted to herself. Once an automobile,
+on the way to the club with somebody's parents, caused her to dash off
+the road into the underbrush. Finally she reached the meeting place, and
+found two scared boys ahead of her. Shortly, the others arrived. There
+were no signs of hilarity over this adventure, they were all solemn and
+glum. Some of them were in Indian garb, with tomahawks; others in
+boy-scout hats, as pilgrims.
+
+When they were all gathered they moved in a body to the camp. It was
+darker than pitch in the woods, so they had to lead the ponies, and they
+stumbled over tree trunks, and logs. Unseen things scuttled away
+underfoot, and terror began to spread like measles.
+
+"Get the fire lighted, then we can see all right," said Isabelle the
+dauntless.
+
+They managed that finally and peered about them, as the weird shadows
+danced and made fantastic shapes.
+
+"Let's get the grub and eat," said Herbert.
+
+"Not yet, not till we do the play," objected Isabelle. "Somebody bind up
+John Smith and the rest sit round the place where we're going to
+execution him. The Indians can lurk----"
+
+"Say, I ain't goin' to lurk in the dark, out there," protested a brave,
+peering into the blackness.
+
+"_I_ am!" said Isabelle, marching upon unseen terrors among the trees.
+
+"If you're going to let a _girl_ dare you!" cried Herbert, secretly glad
+that his role required no heroic exposure.
+
+The Indians reluctantly followed Isabelle Pocahontas into the shadows,
+stepping high, and jumping back with exclamations now and then.
+
+The chopping block was brought out where John Smith's head was to rest,
+then Pocahontas crept through into the firelight and the play was begun,
+but there was no real spirit in the affair. Isabelle felt this; so, to
+create a new interest, she urged John Smith to break bread with the
+Indians after he had been saved by her, and released. They hauled out
+the food, slightly the worse for squirrels; they cooked the bacon,
+eating it nearly raw, with hunks of bread. They had a thermos bottle of
+cold tea which they referred to as "rum." There were plenty of doughnuts
+and a bakery pie.
+
+The repast roused their spirits considerably. After it was finished,
+John Smith invited the Indians to spend the night, and everybody agreed
+to turn in. There was an obvious reluctance on the part of some to enter
+the dark tents. Things unseen rattled inside.
+
+"Say! why not roll up in our blankets around the fire?" said doughty
+John Smith, the Pilgrim's pride.
+
+"Good boy--that's the boy," agreed the Indians.
+
+So they curled up in a circle inside their covers, as near the blaze as
+they could lie, wide-eyed and on the watch. Each one secretly longed for
+his bed at home, and excoriated Isabelle with her devil's gift of
+invention. But after a while the hard labour of the day began to tell,
+and as the fire grew fainter, one by one they dropped asleep, and the
+shadows closed in upon them completely.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER ELEVEN
+
+
+At the club the Saturday night hilarity was at its height. The
+Country-Club set took themselves very seriously--at least as seriously
+as they took anything. They conceived themselves as a group, somehow set
+apart. They lived idle, luxurious lives. Like the lily they toiled not,
+which of itself was an obvious mark of distinction in a work-a-day
+world.
+
+In the winter they "played together" in town, at Palm Beach, or in
+California. In the summer they played together on yachts, or at the
+Country Club of "the colony." They hedged themselves in with a thick
+wall of prejudice against the newcomer, the outsider. Like the Labour
+Union, they valiantly fought the "open-shop" idea!
+
+Now, since their superiority--real or imagined--lay in the triumph of
+artifice over Nature; or, more brutally, since it lay in money rather
+than in wit; the natural recourse of the elect was to various forms of
+spirituous assistance. They never could have endured each other twelve
+months in the year without it. So, on Saturday nights a sufficient
+number of cocktails was served to ensure a certain hilarity, and, in
+case this should wear off, the bar worked steadily during the evening.
+So it was on the Saturday night in question, and the party was "going"
+very well.
+
+Wally was dancing with Nancy Horton, when Billy, her husband, stopped
+them.
+
+"Look here, Nance, the butler just telephoned that Teddy isn't in his
+bed, and they can't find him."
+
+"Rubbish! He's somewhere about. Come on, Wally."
+
+"No. Hold on a minute. They phoned the Hunters to see if he was there,
+and they discovered that Herbert is missing."
+
+"The little beasts! Where do you suppose they are? Do the Hunters know
+it?"
+
+"The servants were going to telephone them."
+
+"What do you want me to do?"--shortly.
+
+"I think we ought to go home----"
+
+"I will not! You go, if you like, and give him a good thrashing when you
+find him. Come on, Wally."
+
+She whirled away with Wally, who said:
+
+"Thank the Lord, my kid is a girl!"
+
+But, one by one, parents were called by the 'phone, until a sufficient
+number of fathers had left to make the affair one-sided. So it broke up,
+with loud protests on the part of the women against the tyranny of
+children, and the slavery of parenthood.
+
+Max grumbled all the way home, and Wally slept. But once indoors, he
+surreptitiously crept to Isabelle's door and tiptoed in. Her nightie was
+a heap by her bed, the bed crumpled and empty. He hurried to Miss
+Watts's door and roused her.
+
+"Miss Watts, where is Isabelle?" he demanded.
+
+"In bed, Mr. Bryce."
+
+"No, she isn't. I've looked."
+
+"But she went to bed at half past eight. I saw her asleep myself. Just
+a minute, please."
+
+He heard her pattering about. He went downstairs and summoned Matthews.
+He knew nothing. He had been on duty all evening, but he had not seen
+her. Wally ordered him to question all the servants. Miss Watts, greatly
+excited, appeared in a bathrobe. A telephone call to the Hunters' house
+brought the reply that Mr. Hunter and the servants were out looking,
+now. Wally went up to his wife's room. She was in bed.
+
+"Isabelle's gone," he said.
+
+"Gone where?" she asked, sitting up.
+
+"I don't know. With the others, I suppose."
+
+"Where is Watts? She is responsible for Isabelle."
+
+"She saw her asleep in bed at eight thirty. Miss Watts put out her light
+at nine. The kid got away somehow."
+
+"Watts had no business going to bed. Where were the other servants?"
+
+"They were on duty and saw nothing."
+
+"On duty, in the kitchen, having skylarks!"
+
+"No matter. The thing is what to do now?"
+
+"Go to bed. She'll turn up."
+
+"Don't be a fool! I'll take a car and join the searching party. Nobody
+knows what those kids are up to."
+
+"All right; go ahead. But this time, Wally Bryce, I punish her."
+
+He hurried out, and got into a fast car, with Matthews and Henry, the
+chauffeur, in the back seat. He went like the wind to the Hunters'. No
+news yet, but they informed him that twelve boys were missing.
+
+"My Isabelle is with them," said Wally.
+
+The Hunters' butler look startled.
+
+"My word, sir, she _is_ a limb!" he exclaimed.
+
+On the road Wally met Billy Horton in his car.
+
+"They must be around here somewhere. They couldn't get far. If I don't
+fix that young man of mine!" he threatened.
+
+"My kid is with them," Wally groaned.
+
+"You don't say!" ejaculated Horton.
+
+Just then a streak of light, as from a fire, flared up in the woods, to
+the left, and died out.
+
+"Did you see that?" demanded Wally.
+
+"Yes, looked like----"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, fire in the woods, that was."
+
+"They've set the woods on fire," shouted Wally, and started off full
+speed. Horton followed.
+
+"Keep your eye on the place, you fellows. About here, wasn't it?"
+
+He stopped the car, and they jumped out. Henry carried a bunghole light
+and they penetrated the woods, single file, shouting as they went. No
+answer came, but they kept on. Before they had gone very far, a pony
+whinnied.
+
+"Hear that? We're coming to something."
+
+They heard motors on the road behind, and shouts in answer to their
+shouts. Other fathers rushed in presently and joined them. Henry stopped
+and halted the entire line.
+
+"Well, I'll be blowed," he said.
+
+He swept the cleared place with his light, and they all crowded
+up behind him. A bed of ashes smouldered, and around it, in deep
+oblivion of well-earned sleep, lay thirteen blanketed braves, a
+trusty weapon--tomahawk or sword--at hand beside each sleeper.
+
+The fathers descended upon them, and with difficulty aroused them to the
+capture. They were led, carried, or dragged to motors, and carted home.
+Isabelle borne between Henry and Matthews scarcely woke at all. In fact,
+when she woke in the morning to Miss Watts's grieved expression, all
+memory of the transfer was gone.
+
+"Oh, Isabelle," said she, "how could you?"
+
+The child struggled with her memories.
+
+"Who found me?"
+
+"Your father."
+
+"Were the others found too?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did they get taken home?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Gee!"
+
+"Is that all you have to say?"
+
+"What are they going to do to me?"
+
+"I don't know, but your parents are very angry."
+
+"I bet they are," grinned the culprit.
+
+"What is to become of you, Isabelle?" inquired Miss Watts, with tragic
+fervour.
+
+Isabelle ate a huge breakfast, and waited cheerfully for her summons to
+judgment. It came at eleven. She went to her mother's room, where that
+lady sat in her bed. Her husband sat by, arms folded, expression stern.
+
+"Hello," said Isabelle.
+
+"Sit down!" her mother ordered, fiercely.
+
+Isabelle sat.
+
+"How did you get out of this house last night?"
+
+"Walked out."
+
+"Where was Miss Watts?"
+
+"Asleep in bed."
+
+"Where were the other servants?"
+
+"At their regular Saturday night party. They call it Club Night."
+
+"When did these boys induce you to go on this disgraceful expedition?"
+
+"They didn't induce me," replied Isabelle. "It was my idea."
+
+"Isabelle Bryce!" her mother burst out. "You asked twelve boys to spend
+the night with you?"
+
+"No, I thought it would be fun to play John Smith, Pocahontas and
+Indians at night, with a fire. So we planned it. Then we thought you
+might get back from the club before we did, and kick up a row, so I said
+why not sleep in the tents, and sneak in at daylight, so you'd never
+know."
+
+"Did you ever hear anything so awful?" Max demanded of Wally.
+
+"I don't think she understands just what it is she has done," he said,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Don't you dare make excuses for her!"
+
+"Don't you know it isn't decent for you to spend the night in the woods,
+with twelve boys?"
+
+"Why not?" asked Isabelle, interested.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Well, why don't you tell her why not?" burst out Wally.
+
+"Don't be vulgar, Wally. Just leave this to me, please."
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"I've tried every way I know to make you act like a decent human being,
+and you won't. Now, there's only one way left."
+
+"Penitentiary?" inquired Isabelle in all earnestness.
+
+"No impudence! You have disgraced yourself thoroughly this time, and us,
+too."
+
+Isabelle turned to her father. She had not the least idea what they were
+hinting at.
+
+"Wally, what's all the row about?" she inquired.
+
+"You've got to explain it to her, I tell you," he repeated.
+
+Mrs. Bryce ignored him.
+
+"I have decided that your punishment this time is to be a severe one,"
+she said sternly. "You are to be sent away to school. We will see if
+that can save you."
+
+"School? Boarding school?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Not a girls' school?"
+
+"I suppose you'd prefer a boys' school?" Max said, sarcastically.
+
+"Yes, I would," her daughter answered, literally.
+
+"There's no use!" exclaimed Mrs. Bryce. "Take her away, Wally. I shall
+decide upon a school--a very strict one--and she shall be sent there
+next month. It is evident Miss Watts cannot cope with her."
+
+Isabelle, somewhat dazed, walked back to the schoolroom. She grasped the
+idea that this time she had exceeded her limit. She had never seen her
+mother so angry, and even Wally was as grave as a judge.
+
+"Why is it wicked for me to play Indian with the boys?" she demanded of
+Miss Watts.
+
+"It isn't playing Indian; it's--little girls can't spend the night in
+the woods with boys," she replied.
+
+"But why not? They were my regular friends."
+
+"Didn't your mother tell you why it is wrong?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I must speak to her, Isabelle, before we discuss it."
+
+It was only the beginning of the revelation of her ignominy. She was not
+allowed to go anywhere or to see her friends. Once when she saw Margie
+Hunter on the road, and waved to her, Margie looked the other way and
+did not wave back. She smuggled off a letter to Herbert and he smuggled
+one to say that he was not allowed to see her, or write to her--that he
+was being sent away to school.
+
+When she questioned Miss Watts she met with pained reticence--no frank
+explanation. The girl felt that she was a prisoner, under sentence for
+something which she could not understand. She turned hither and thither
+in her appeal for help and understanding, and everybody turned aside as
+if she were an outcast. The iron of injustice began to enter her soul.
+She was at the impressionable age, when she felt deeply every injury
+done her. She thought much of Ann Barnes and Martin Christiansen, her
+two friends. They would have understood. They would have answered the
+questions, told her the truth which her mother hinted at yet failed to
+explain. It was a period of bitterness and revolt, of enforced inaction
+and isolation. It was to bear fruit in her whole life, and no one
+guessed it--or cared.
+
+But it so happened that Christiansen, all unknown to her, was to help
+her. He happened to meet Mrs. Bryce, full of maternal anxiety about the
+school question, and he immediately suggested The Hill Top School,
+conducted by some friends of his who were Quakers. They accepted only a
+few children, but they accomplished wonders with them. Max listened and
+took note. He offered to write a letter in Isabelle's behalf. Mrs. Bryce
+accepted this help gratefully, and in the end it was arranged that
+Isabelle was to be sent there. But the little girl knew nothing of this.
+
+Events marched. She was taken to town and a school outfit bought for
+her. She was allowed no word of choice in her things. Max, coldly
+distant, and Miss Watts, nervously conciliatory, accompanied her during
+this ordeal of fitting and ordering. A month earlier, she would have
+worked up a plan of revolt and carried it through, but now, it did not
+seem worth while. Their attitude toward her struck in on her spirit. She
+hated the thought of the school, but she was glad she was going away.
+
+"What's the name of this place they're sending me?" she asked Miss Watts
+one day.
+
+"The Hill Top School."
+
+"Where is it?"
+
+"In Massachusetts. It is a very nice school, and I think you will be
+happy there."
+
+"Won't I? Just!"
+
+Miss Watts frowned. There was a queer streak of cynicism growing in the
+child that gave her pause. She was fond of her, in her way, but she was
+glad that her responsibility for her was soon to cease. She had been
+induced by Mrs. Bryce to deliver Isabelle at the school, as the day of
+her departure fell in horse-show week, and The Beeches was to be full of
+house guests.
+
+It was a ripe, mellow, September day when they left. A day on which
+Isabelle longed to fling herself into the saddle and gallop and gallop
+through the red and yellow world. Instead, for some heinous but
+incomprehensible crime, she was being sent to prison. That was the
+attitude of mind in which she viewed it.
+
+"All right, now, Isabelle; the motor is here. Have you said good-bye to
+your mother?" inquired Miss Watts, all a-flutter.
+
+"Yes," lied Isabelle, and hurried down to the car.
+
+Wally was at the wheel.
+
+"Are you driving us to the station, Wally?" she asked.
+
+"I thought I would," he answered, embarrassed.
+
+She got in and sat beside him. Her attempt at a smile worried him. After
+all, she was just a kid, being bundled off in disgrace. He felt a vague
+regret that he meant so little to her. He wondered if she really loved
+any one. Then her search for "regular parents" came back to haunt him.
+Funny business this, having kids. Not so simple----
+
+"All right, kid?" he asked her, as they waited for the train.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said, with an effort at her old _insouciance_.
+
+"Good-bye," he said jocosely, adding, as the train came in, with an
+effort to avoid any emotion: "Write if you need money."
+
+He kissed her, and she clung to him.
+
+"You're a good old thing, Wally," she said, hoarsely; and then,
+silently, she followed Miss Watts into the train.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER TWELVE
+
+
+The little god of Chance must have sat smiling on his throne when Mrs.
+Wally Bryce decided upon Hill Top School as the spot to which her
+daughter should be banished. She felt that Christiansen's recommendation
+was enough, together with the list of girls who attended it, so she did
+not trouble to visit the place. The few necessary letters which passed
+between herself and Adam Benjamin, the head of the school, were formal
+business communications, in regard to terms, books, equipment, and such
+details. Mr. Benjamin's insistence upon the simplest clothes suited her
+exactly. The girl had to be put somewhere until she could be admitted to
+a fashionable New York finishing school where she had been entered as a
+baby. This Hill Top place would do as a stop gap.
+
+As for Isabelle, in the bitterness of her spirit, her only thought was
+that, whatever the place proved to be, she would hate it.
+
+She and Miss Watts arrived in the afternoon of a perfect autumn day. The
+train was late, so that Miss Watts was forced to hand over her charge to
+Mr. Benjamin, who met them at the station, with only a few minutes' wait
+for her train back to New York.
+
+"I'm sorry not to have taken you to the school, and seen your room,
+Isabelle," she said.
+
+"That's all right."
+
+"We will look after her," Mr. Benjamin said with a genial smile.
+
+Isabelle looked at him again. He was a big man, strong and bronzed, as
+if he lived in the open. When he smiled, his very blue eyes smiled too,
+and many little wrinkles appeared about them, as if his smile sent out
+rays, like the sun. He wore loose, snuff-coloured clothes, and a
+broad-brimmed hat.
+
+Miss Watts's train thundered in. There was a moment of confusion, of
+exhortation to be a good girl, of farewell; and then the train was gone.
+The last member of Isabelle's world had deserted her, and she choked
+back a sob of loneliness, of rebellion. It was all mirrored in her
+tell-tale face. A big strong hand suddenly enclosed her own, and she
+looked up into Mr. Benjamin's wrinkly smile.
+
+"Thee must not feel lonely, little girl," he said, gently. He led her
+away to a wide, low surrey, with two fat dappled horses. Isabelle tried
+to snatch her hand away, but Mr. Benjamin seemed unaware of it.
+
+"If thee will get into the front seat with me, we will put thy trunk in
+the back."
+
+Without any reply she got in. Presently they were off at a good pace,
+through lovely country, mellow in the late afternoon sunshine. Mr.
+Benjamin talked to the horses in a friendly way, but he left Isabelle to
+herself. After a little they were among the hills. The sumac flamed
+everywhere, and bronze oak trees smouldered in the sun. Once Mr.
+Benjamin drew up and pointed to a flower beside the road.
+
+"Does thee see that flower, Isabelle?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"It is very interesting," he mused, and he unfolded the tale of this
+plant. How exacting it was, how its seed germinated in only a certain
+soil, how it bloomed in only certain seasons under special weather
+conditions. Isabelle's quick imagination kindled at the tale. It was
+hard to hate this man, whom she had visualized as her jailer.
+
+"Why do you say 'thee' instead of 'you'?" she asked as her first remark.
+
+"Because I am a Quaker, and we use the Friends' speech."
+
+"What are Quakers?"
+
+He smiled, and explained to her, and as he talked they swung between
+gates into a long tree-bordered drive that climbed and climbed until it
+reached a hill top; and here a low, rambling, many-roomed house spread
+itself pleasantly upon the earth. Some girls were raking leaves and
+waved to them as they passed. The fat horses stopped at the house. Mr.
+Benjamin got out and lifted out the trunk and bag. Just then the door
+opened and Mrs. Benjamin appeared.
+
+"Phoebe, my dear, this is our new child, Isabelle Bryce," he said.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin bent and kissed her.
+
+"Thee is very welcome, Isabelle," she said, taking her hand and leading
+her indoors. A great, broad hall bisected the house. In the living room,
+to the right, a fire sparkled and crackled. The room gave out a feeling
+of friendliness. There were big chairs, student lamps, pleasant colours
+and shadows.
+
+"I hope thee did not get chilled coming up the hill. There is a nip in
+the air these fall nights," Mrs. Benjamin remarked.
+
+"No, I wasn't cold, thank you," Isabelle replied. The last two words
+dragged themselves out in spite of her.
+
+It was as difficult to hate Mrs. Benjamin as it was to hate Mr.
+Benjamin. And the warm big room was nice. But no--she wasn't going to
+give in. She was a rebel and they should find her such!
+
+Just then a girl came into the room. She was younger than Isabelle--ten
+years old, perhaps. She was fair and frail with a discontented little
+face.
+
+"Peggy, this is Isabelle Bryce. This is Peggy Starr, Isabelle. I thought
+thee might show Isabelle her room, Peggy."
+
+The two girls looked at each other.
+
+"All right; come on," said the younger girl, ungraciously.
+
+They mounted the wide stairs to the corridor above, with bedrooms
+opening off on each side. Peggy led the way into a huge room, with many
+windows. It had two beds, two bureaus, two closets.
+
+"I s'pose you're my room mate," Peggy remarked, staring at her.
+
+"Do you sleep here?"
+
+"I slept in another girl's room last night, but I belong here."
+
+"When did you come?"
+
+"Yesterday."
+
+"Like it?"
+
+"No, hate it!"
+
+"So do I," said Isabelle, firmly.
+
+"I cried all night," boasted Peggy.
+
+"I never cry," said Isabelle.
+
+The other girl stared.
+
+"Are there many girls here?"
+
+"You make ten. The rest are raking for a bonfire. Sillies!"
+
+"Didn't they invite you?"
+
+"I can't do rough things like that. I'm delicate."
+
+Isabelle heard shouts of laughter, and hurried to the window. Down below
+in the twilight a crowd of laughing girls was burying a prostrate victim
+under the leaves. They shrieked and cavorted about her. A yellow moon
+hung low over the hills. All at once, clear and high, a bugle call
+arose, and echoed far and near. It was a scene and impression she was
+never to forget.
+
+"What is that?" she demanded of Peggy.
+
+"Time to dress. Mr. Benjamin bugles whenever we have to do anything,"
+complained Peggy.
+
+There was a rush on the stairs, more laughter, questions called and
+answered, doors slammed. A poignant sense of loneliness, of homesickness,
+swept over Isabelle. She turned to Peggy, who sat by.
+
+"I hate it!" she said fiercely.
+
+"So do I. Going to change?"--languidly. "You needn't. Girls don't have
+to, their first night. Just wash and come on."
+
+Isabelle followed her suggestion and presently the two girls went
+downstairs together. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin sat together on a high backed
+settle by the fire. They were enjoying each other's conversation. Mrs.
+Benjamin's face shone as she listened to her husband. It was rather a
+plain face, surmounted by hair parted smoothly in the middle and drawn
+low into a diminutive knot at the back. She wore a queer dress, Isabelle
+thought, and a fine white kerchief was folded across her breast. This
+was her costume always, save on Sunday, when the dress was of silk.
+
+"I hope thee found thy room pleasant, Isabelle," she said as the girls
+entered.
+
+"Yes, thanks."
+
+"Thee has a fine view over the hills," Mr. Benjamin said.
+
+Then the other girls trooped in, and Isabelle was introduced to them. A
+servant announced supper. Mr. Benjamin gave his arm to Mrs. Benjamin,
+and they led the way, followed by the girls, two by two, arm in arm,
+across the hall to the dining room. There was an unexpected moment for
+Isabelle when everybody bowed the head and offered silent grace. The
+supper was plain, but how those girls did eat! Cold meats, baked
+potatoes and apple sauce, and cookies disappeared in quantities. Even
+the rice pudding had to be served twice all round.
+
+There was talk and laughter. No sense of disorder or noise, but it was
+just jolly. Mr. Benjamin at one end of the long table beamed at Mrs.
+Benjamin at the other end. They both played a part in the sprightly
+give-and-take of the children. It was like a happy family. Isabelle was
+silent, taking note of everything. Peggy was sullen.
+
+After supper there was a rush for sweaters.
+
+"Get your coat, Isabelle, and come out. We're going to have a bonfire
+to-night. No lessons until to-morrow," shouted a girl named Agnes.
+
+Isabelle started up to get her coat, but on second thoughts she went
+back for Peggy.
+
+"Oh, I can't do those things, I tell you. I'm too delicate," whined the
+girl.
+
+"It won't hurt thee at all, my dear, if thee wraps up well," said Mrs.
+Benjamin.
+
+"I'm never allowed out in the night air----"
+
+"Get thy sweater and come out, little sister. Thee doesn't know this
+night air," laughed Mr. Benjamin.
+
+So in the end Peggy allowed herself to be persuaded, and went along.
+
+"Silly, spoiled little minx," commented Mr. Benjamin.
+
+"Oh, we'll soon manage her, my dear, but what about this smouldering
+Isabelle with her old eyes?" sighed his wife.
+
+He patted her hand.
+
+"I leave her to thee, my Phoebe."
+
+Outside the moon rode high, the air was crisp and sweet, the silence
+unbroken save for the shouts of the girls. The leaves were piled in a
+huge mound, in a cleared space some distance from the house. They set a
+match to it, and the flames leapt hungry and fierce. The girls formed a
+circle and danced around it, singing. Mr. Benjamin stopped a second on
+his way to the barn, and called a warning about whirling skirts as he
+went on.
+
+The circle broke into dancing pairs. Some one started leap frog.
+Isabelle forgot everything except that she was having a good time. There
+were friendliness and joy and freedom. She drank of them to the full.
+She played wildly, excitedly. She began to lead in the games. Even Peggy
+forgot her role and joined in.
+
+The flames were lower now, and with a sudden running leap Isabelle
+jumped over them. Without hesitation the whole line followed--all except
+Peggy, who held back.
+
+"Come on, Peggy, don't be a 'fraid-cat!" shouted Isabelle.
+
+So Peggy made a half-hearted jump and landed in the fire. In a second
+her skirts were ablaze, and the silence of terror struck the girls dumb.
+Isabelle ran at Peggy and dragged her out, she threw her on the ground,
+tearing at her skirt with her bare hands.
+
+"Pile sweaters on her!" she ordered the girls.
+
+They obeyed, and Isabelle threw herself upon the smouldering heap, in an
+effort to quench the fire. Mr. Benjamin came upon them, and the girls
+explained in shrill unison. He lifted Isabelle off; picked Peggy up,
+half unconscious; cut away the still smoking skirt, and carried her into
+the house.
+
+The girls followed, awed and weak from fright. They sat in silence in
+the living room awaiting the report from upstairs. Both the Benjamins
+were up there. There had been no serious damage done. The heavy wool
+shirt had protected her legs, but the shock had played havoc with poor
+Peggy's nerves, and she screamed and cried long after she was rubbed,
+greased, bandaged, and comfortable.
+
+When Mrs. Benjamin finally came downstairs to get some hot milk for her,
+she found the frightened girls still sitting there. She relieved their
+minds at once.
+
+"How did it happen?" she inquired.
+
+They explained how Isabelle jumped the blaze and urged timid Peggy to
+follow.
+
+"Where is Isabelle?" demanded Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+It appeared that nobody knew. In the excitement they had not noticed her
+absence. Should they go and look for her?
+
+"No; I'll find her. Agnes, go to the kitchen and get a glass of hot milk
+and take it to Peggy. The rest of you go to bed as quietly as possible.
+I will find Isabelle," said Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+They tiptoed away as silent as ghosts. Mrs. Benjamin put a heavy coat
+about her shoulders, and went out. The clearing where the bonfire had
+been, lay on a knoll above the house. As she approached it she saw
+silhouetted against the moon a small figure, head bent upon drawn-up
+knees, silent, "lonely as a cloud."
+
+"My dear, thee will take thy death of cold," she said gently, leaning
+over the girl.
+
+She lifted tragic, pitiful eyes to Mrs. Benjamin's.
+
+"Have you come to send me home?"
+
+"No, I've come to take thee to bed,"--simply.
+
+She drew the girl to her feet, put her hand on her shoulder; and
+together, in silence, they approached the house. She led her to the fire
+and chaffed her cold hands.
+
+"You ought to punish me," said Isabelle at last.
+
+"My dear, when any one at Hill Top breaks the rules, or acts wilfully,
+we ask her to punish herself."
+
+Isabelle could scarcely believe her ears.
+
+"I think thee has been sufficiently punished, Isabelle, and now I shall
+give thee a hot lemonade to warm thee up before thee goes to bed," the
+kind voice went on.
+
+Suddenly without warning, Isabelle threw herself on the couch and began
+to sob. Not like a child's easy tears, but like the tortured sobbing of
+a nature long pent up. Mrs. Benjamin said nothing. She sat down on the
+couch, drew the child's head into her lap, and let the spasm spend
+itself.
+
+So it was that Isabelle, who never wept, spent her first evening at Hill
+Top School.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+
+
+The period of adjustment to life at the Hill Top School was a very
+bewildering one to Isabelle. The excitement over Peggy's accident was
+soon past, to that heroine's intense regret. She prolonged her nervous
+prostration as long as possible, and was duly petted and made much of by
+the girls. Isabelle, full of remorse for the trouble she had brought
+upon her room-mate, adopted her as her special charge.
+
+The routine of the school, if you could call it that, began. Mr. and
+Mrs. Benjamin had strange ideas in regard to the training of the young.
+They kept the school small, so that they might not be hampered in their
+experiments, and strangely enough, they drew their pupils largely from
+the families of the rich. When he was asked about this once, Mr.
+Benjamin said:
+
+"It seems to be our mission to teach these little richlings to
+
+        'Ride a cock horse,
+        To Banbury Cross,
+          To see what money _can't_ buy!'
+
+"They get life so crookedly from servants and such," he added. "Phoebe
+and I just try to straighten them out."
+
+The process by which these two rare souls accomplished this straightening
+out was quite their own. There was only one extra teacher, a Frenchwoman
+who came from Boston twice a week. For the rest, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin
+conducted the school, and did all the teaching.
+
+During October and November, and again in late April and May, lessons
+were all out of doors. The whole school studied Botany and Zoology with
+Mr. Benjamin. They wandered over the hills, on the brisk autumn days,
+with their boxes and cases and bottles for specimens. These lessons were
+a series of enchanted tales to Isabelle, of how the life force persists
+in bugs and plants. The whole morning on certain days of the week would
+be devoted to this peripatetic grazing, then note books would be written
+up before lunch.
+
+This function was also a lesson. Certain girls took charge of it each
+day--planned, ordered, prepared and cooked the meal, in the open, over a
+gypsy fire. The girls in charge were limited in expenditure, and there
+was great rivalry among them to find something new and toothsome to make
+in the skillet or the big kettle. Careful accounts were kept by each set
+of managers, and if, at the end of the school term, there was credit
+balance, a special party was given on the savings.
+
+A second committee took charge of serving the meal; a third, of the
+clearing away and dishwashing. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin were always treated
+as guests on these occasions.
+
+Arithmetic was accompanied by instruction in banking. Allowances were
+deposited in a central bank, with elected officers. All money was drawn
+by check. Books were balanced weekly, and penalty imposed upon careless
+financiers.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin conducted the classes in English Literature, and because
+she loved books truly, she led these girls step by step into the realm
+of the best. Shakespeare was studied and loved, and played under the
+trees. Wordsworth and Tennyson and Longfellow read in the open, are very
+different from Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Longfellow parsed indoors.
+Poetry was not a "study" to be pored over in the schoolroom; it was a
+natural beautiful expression of life, sung instead of spoken. So they
+came to our modern poets with interest and understanding, because these
+new poets, forsooth, spoke the language of these children of the
+present.
+
+Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, Victor Hugo, read aloud and discussed;
+these were a treat--no task--here. These great artists were considered
+not only as makers of romance, creators of literature, but also as
+historians of their times. Their books were studied along with the
+history of the countries and the peoples that they described. Then came
+the geography of the places wherein the stories were laid, then a study
+of the social conditions and customs of the periods to which they gave
+expression.
+
+American history was taught by both the Benjamins. It was their hobby.
+Not the sort of history taught in most schools, "fixed up" for the young,
+but the true history of our country--its blunders, its stupidities, its
+triumphs.
+
+So through the whole curriculum, acquiring knowledge was a pleasant
+thing. It was not a matter of being fed with little unrelated chunks of
+information, on this or on that. It was rather being led into a great
+field, where now this part, now that, held your interest, but you never
+lost sight of the whole expanse.
+
+As for play, there were nutting expeditions, hay rides, marshmallow
+roasts, any number of out-of-door joys. It was as nearly a normal life
+as can be reached in these days of ours.
+
+To Isabelle it was unbelievable. Everything they did during the day
+interested her. Her old passion for leadership spurred her on, but now
+it was a spur to excel in legitimate things. Her sense of rebellion was
+laid away, because she liked nearly everything she had to do, and her
+days were so busy that there was no excess vitality to work itself off
+in pranks.
+
+Not that she was a reformed soul--far from it! There were times when she
+balked the duties she liked least, and was gently called upon by Mrs.
+Benjamin to punish herself. After the first amusement of this novelty
+wore off, it became plain to her that the punishment she administered to
+herself was always more severe than any one else would have prescribed.
+Sometimes punishment was decided upon by the community as a whole. By
+degrees the girls all began to realize "the social spirit" for the first
+time in their self-centred, individualistic lives.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin," Isabelle said one day, bursting into the presence of
+that lady, "I feel full of the devil to-day!"
+
+"Dost thou, Isabelle? Dear me! we must think of something to dispossess
+him."
+
+"Better give me something _hard_ to do."
+
+"It is now half past eight. Suppose thee goes down to the big field to
+help Henry pitch hay until ten."
+
+"All right," agreed Isabelle.
+
+"Thee might speak to Mr. Benjamin on thy way out, about the seven devils
+that possess thee," smiled her teacher.
+
+Another influence that was working in the development of the girl was
+the dependent devotion of Peggy Starr. Her young room-mate worshipped
+Isabelle. She began by following her through fire, and she would not
+have stopped at water. What Isabelle did and said and thought was
+Peggy's law.
+
+Now Mrs. Benjamin took hold of the situation at once. She disapproved
+of the school girl "crush." She had a long talk with Isabelle and
+urged her to look after the younger girl, to help her forget her
+"claim" to invalidism, to influence her to normal activity. Isabelle
+accepted the responsibility and felt it deeply. She restrained herself
+from this and that because of Peggy. If she did things, Peggy would do
+them. So again, wise Mrs. Benjamin let her teach herself her first
+lessons in self-control.
+
+"Isabelle," Mr. Benjamin said to her, when she had been at the school
+about two months, "I have a letter from thy father. He says thee does
+not write home."
+
+"I've been busy," Isabelle said, frowning.
+
+"But what does thee do on Sunday afternoons, when the other girls write
+home?"
+
+"I'd rather not tell."
+
+"But thee writes; I've seen thee."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I want thee to write thy mother to-day, Isabelle," he said, sternly.
+
+He told his wife of this conversation later.
+
+"She writes volumes on Sunday," he said, "now what does she do with it?"
+
+"She is one of the strangest children we've ever had, Adam," she
+answered.
+
+"She is rather exhausting to me," he said.
+
+"She's lived under abnormal conditions of some sort. I cannot seem to
+visualize her parents at all. She never speaks of them. She was so
+bitter and sullen when she came to us," Mrs. Benjamin mused. "I must try
+to get her confidence about her parents, she may be needing help."
+
+"She came to thee just in time, my Phoebe."
+
+"Yes, that's true. A little more and she would have been a bitter
+cynic at eighteen. Even now when she just begins to respond, like a
+frost-bitten plant, I am not sure of the blossom."
+
+"Hot-house growth, thee must remember."
+
+"She interests me deeply, and I'm growing very fond of her."
+
+"Lucky Isabelle," her husband smiled.
+
+Later in the day when the other girls were out at play Mrs. Benjamin
+came upon Isabelle, pen in hand, gazing into the distance.
+
+"What is troubling my child?"
+
+"Mr. Benjamin told me to write to Max."
+
+"Who is Max?"
+
+"My mother."
+
+"Thy mother, and thee calls her Max?"
+
+"I always have."
+
+"But it is not respectful, is it?"
+
+"No, but I don't respect her much."
+
+"Doesn't thee?"--calmly.
+
+"No, you can't"--earnestly.
+
+"And what does thee call thy father?"
+
+"Wally."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin smiled. Here was all the clue she needed to the kind of
+parents Isabelle possessed.
+
+"It may have been considered precocious, when thee was little, to call
+them so. But if I were in thy place, I would not do it now. It gives the
+wrong impression of thy manners. I think thee has very pretty manners,"
+she added.
+
+Isabelle flushed with pleasure.
+
+"You see, Max--my mother--doesn't really care where I am, or what I do,
+so long as I'm not in her way, so I don't know what to write her."
+
+"Couldn't thee write thy father, then?"
+
+"Well, it would be easier," she admitted. "Wally is a good sort, and
+understands more."
+
+"Write to him then. That will do, I'm sure."
+
+"All right. But nobody writes _me_ letters. I never get any."
+
+"To whom does thee write in the letter hour, my dear?"
+
+Isabelle was on her guard at once.
+
+"Oh, to somebody I like."
+
+"Some friend of thine?"
+
+"Um--yes."
+
+"Couldn't thee tell me about this friend? Mr. Benjamin and I are
+especially interested in the friends of our girls. I have never seen
+thee post thy letters."
+
+"I don't post them"--shamefacedly.
+
+"Oh, they are to an imaginary friend," said Mrs. Benjamin, seizing an
+idea.
+
+Isabelle nodded.
+
+"That's delightful. I used to have an imaginary companion, too. Is thine
+a girl?"
+
+"No."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin ignored Isabelle's uncommunicativeness.
+
+"Why wouldn't that be a good idea for the theme class, Isabelle?
+'Letters to an imaginary chum'?"
+
+"Mine isn't a chum."
+
+"Would thee care to tell me?"
+
+Isabelle rose.
+
+"I'll show them to you," she said; and she ran upstairs, and brought a
+collection of letters to lay in Mrs. Benjamin's lap.
+
+"Thank thee, dear. May I read them?"
+
+The girl nodded. Mrs. Benjamin lifted the first one. It was addressed
+to: "My Regular Parents." Isabelle went and threw herself down by the
+fire, her face turned away, while Mrs. Benjamin read:
+
+    Oh my dear Parents:
+      I wish you could see this beautiful school I've come to. It has
+    hills, and a large house, and Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin. Mr.
+    Benjamin has a wrinkly smile, and Mrs. Benjamin is so
+    understanding. They are Quakers and say "thee" and "thou" for
+    "you." It is sweet. When I come home let us say "thee" and
+    "thou" to each other, will you? It sounds so very special.
+      We study out of doors, and it is fun. We play lots of things,
+    like basketball in the field, so we are healthy. My room-mate is
+    Peggy Starr, a very young girl, often tiresome.
+      This is Sunday, and all the girls write home, so I write you,
+    dear, dear, regular parents. I think of you a great deal. Mr.
+    and Mrs. Benjamin are just like you, that is why I love them so
+    dearly. I am glad we are poor and have only each other, aren't
+    you? I know some people named Max and Wally, who are rich. They
+    have so much golf, and parties that they can't ever bother with
+    their child, except to scold her. But you care about me, don't
+    you? And you like to hear what I do at school. I would be
+    lonesome without you.
+      I will try hard to do good, because I love you so much.
+                                  Your loving daughter,
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin finished them, then looked at the girl, whose face was
+turned away, and her smile was very tender. She spoke simply, without a
+touch of sentimentality.
+
+"Dear, they are very sweet and loving letters. I am glad thee thinks Mr.
+Benjamin and I are like thy 'regular parents.'"
+
+Isabelle looked at her shyly.
+
+"Suppose we make an agreement, Isabelle. Thee is to write a short letter
+to thy father every Sunday, and the rest of the letter hour can be
+devoted to thy 'regular parents.' This letter thee will post to me,
+and--since I have no 'regular daughter'--every Sunday afternoon I will
+post a letter to thee. Is that a bargain?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried the girl, flaming to meet this suggestion--this
+understanding. "Oh, dear Mrs. Benjamin," she added, "you are so
+love-ful!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+
+
+The new relationship established between Mrs. Benjamin and Isabelle was
+so precious to the little girl that she abandoned her banner of revolt
+once for all, and gave herself up to the congenial atmosphere of Hill
+Top. It was the only home she had ever known, since home is a matter of
+love and people rather than bricks and stones.
+
+The secret correspondence was a complete outlet for Isabelle's
+imagination, and she pored over the letters her "regular mother" wrote
+her with utter devotion. She put them away to keep for all her life.
+They were indeed wonderful letters, full of the fine idealism, the
+working philosophy that inspired the Benjamins. When there was some
+misdemeanour, or some fractured rule to be called to Isabelle's
+attention, it was delicately introduced into the weekly letter, instead
+of being talked out in the library.
+
+Excess vitality got the girl into scrapes sometimes, but as the
+Benjamins came to understand her better and to love her, they found ways
+of appealing to her common sense, or her instinct for justice, to which
+she never failed to respond. Her quick mind had already put her at the
+head of her classes.
+
+The out-of-door life and her enjoyment of everything began to show in
+her whole bearing. Her face lost its sharp curves, she took on some
+flesh, her colour was high and her eyes were bright. At last she was
+coming into her birthright of happy, normal girlhood.
+
+The letters home continued to be written to Wally, and once in a long
+while she had a brief note from him.
+
+"What kind of a father have you got?" she inquired of Peggy, one day,
+after the perusal of one of these epistles.
+
+"He is very nice, I think. He was sorry I wasn't a boy, but he always
+gives me five dollars whenever he sees me. What kind is yours?"
+
+"Wally is the nicest person in our family," she said guardedly.
+
+"Is your father handsome?"
+
+Isabelle hesitated a second.
+
+"Yes--very."
+
+"Mine isn't. He's fat--awf'ly fat. His head blouses over his collar all
+round."
+
+"You mean his neck."
+
+"No, he hasn't any neck--it's the back of his head. Don't you wish your
+father looked like a Gibson man?"
+
+"Mine does."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes. Very tall and broad-shouldered, with wavy hair, grey eyes, and
+_wonderful_ teeth! He's very smart looking--oh, very!"
+
+"Oh, Isabelle, he must be grand!" ejaculated Peggy.
+
+"You ought to see him on a horse. He's just superb," she answered,
+delighted with her fairy story.
+
+"Who is?" asked one of the crowd of six girls who joined them at this
+moment.
+
+"Isabelle's father. Tell them about him, Isabelle," urged Peggy, the
+adoring.
+
+So Isabelle began to enlarge upon the theme of the magnificent being who
+was her father. When she had finished his portrait Wally was a cross
+between a Norse Viking and a Greek god, with a few lines by Charles Dana
+Gibson just to bring him into the realm of reality. The girls were
+thrilled to hear of this heroic being. They entreated Isabelle to have
+him visit her, but she assured them that it was out of the question.
+This superman, this leader of society and Wall Street, could never find
+time to visit so obscure a spot.
+
+Isabelle's father became a legendary figure among them, beautiful and
+godlike. She shone in the reflected glory of him for weeks. His
+experiences and adventures were added to _ad infinitum_.
+
+"And my father was riding on his black horse, Nero, when he saw this
+_very_ beautiful girl, in distress. He asked her what was the matter;
+she told him that she was falsely accused--that the police were after
+her."
+
+"Oh, what was she accused of, Isabelle?"--breathlessly.
+
+"Murder," said Isabelle, promptly.
+
+"Mercy! what _did_ your father do?"
+
+"He hesitated not a minute. With one sweep of his arm he lifted her to
+the saddle before him, and started Nero on a gallop."
+
+"Did the girl scream?"
+
+"Oh, no. She relaxed in his arms. She knew she could trust my _father_.
+He rushed her to his shooting lodge in the forest and hid her there for
+several weeks."
+
+"But, Isabelle, didn't he fall in love with her?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But he was _married_."
+
+"Well, a little thing like that wouldn't matter to a man like my father.
+He loved her but he told her he could not marry her because of Max and
+me."
+
+"And did he leave her?"--disconsolately.
+
+"Yes, he left her."
+
+"Did the police find her?"
+
+"Never. She went off to Europe and nobody ever knew a thing about it."
+
+"How did you know about it?"--suspiciously.
+
+"Oh, I am my father's confidante," boasted Isabelle. "We tell each other
+everything."
+
+"Does he still love her?"
+
+"Oh, yes; he will bear the marks to his grave."
+
+A sigh of sentimental satisfaction went around.
+
+"I wish my father was interesting like that," sighed Peggy.
+
+It was in the spring when romance was in the very air, that a motor
+honked up the hill, and Wally inquired for Isabelle. Mrs. Benjamin
+received him.
+
+"I'm anxious about Isabelle," he said, early in their talk.
+
+"Anxious?"
+
+"Yes. You've never made any complaints about her, or threatened to send
+her home or anything."
+
+"We have no complaints to make," Mrs. Benjamin smiled. "She is a very
+clever and delightful child."
+
+"Delightful? Isabelle?"
+
+"We find her so. Affectionate, easily managed, full of life, and a
+natural leader."
+
+"How Isabelle must have changed!" said Wally, soulfully.
+
+When at a summons from Mrs. Benjamin the girl came into the room, he saw
+that she had changed. She electrified the room with her health and
+vitality.
+
+"Wally!" she exclaimed, and suddenly went white to the lips.
+
+"Hello, Isabelle; thought I'd have a look at you, in passing."
+
+He kissed her cold cheek awkwardly.
+
+"Don't seem very pleased to see me," he added.
+
+"Oh, but I am, Wally; I am," she said, with an anxious eye on the door.
+
+"Thou may'st have a holiday, Isabelle, to visit with thy father. We'd be
+glad to have thee spend the night, Mr. Bryce."
+
+"Just here for a few hours, thanks. Thought I'd look in on the kid. Very
+kind of you, I'm sure."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin left them.
+
+"Wally, do me a favour," said Isabelle, breathlessly.
+
+"So soon?" he laughed.
+
+"Take me off in the motor for the day."
+
+"But I want to see the school, and meet your pals, and get acquainted
+with the Benjamins."
+
+"Oh, Wally, it's just like any school, and I'm shut up here all the time.
+I'm just dying for a day in the country," she urged. "_P-l-e-a-s-e_
+Wally."
+
+"All right, come on. You aren't taking me off for fear they'll give you
+away, are you?"
+
+"Give me away?"--anxiously.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin says you're a prize pupil, but they can't get away with
+that, Isabelle; I know you."
+
+"No, you don't," she laughed. "I'm all new."
+
+She slipped her arm through his and urged him forth.
+
+"Come on, Wally, be a dear."
+
+So she managed to get him in the car and away from the house before the
+school trooped in. She had no plan beyond that, but she knew that she
+must never let Wally go back to that school. She looked at his little
+wizened face, muffled up in his coat collar, and his little pinched
+hands on the wheel. No; only over her dead body should the girls see
+Wally!
+
+She set herself to his entertainment, and got him into a good humour in
+no time. He roared at her stories, her comments on the girls. He noted
+her fine colour.
+
+"You're getting handsome, Isabelle."
+
+"Beauty is but skin deep. I rely on my line of talk," she replied, and
+joined in his laughter.
+
+"Look here, why did you railroad me out of that school so fast?"
+
+"I thought it would be nicer to have you all to myself," she replied,
+innocently.
+
+"Isabelle, Isabelle, what are you up to?" her father demanded.
+
+"Nothing, Wally--honest. I'm a reformed character."
+
+She induced him to take her to lunch at The Gay Dog Inn, and they were
+very merry over the meal.
+
+"I quite like you, Isabelle," said Wally. "You used to embarrass me to
+death."
+
+"I've always rather liked you, Wally," she retorted, to their mutual
+amusement.
+
+"See here, I must be getting on, if I'm to make Boston for dinner," he
+said, consulting his watch.
+
+"You needn't take me clear up to the school. You may drop me at what we
+call the cross roads."
+
+"Oh, I'll get you back," he protested.
+
+From the moment they were headed for the school she talked feverishly,
+and thought wildly. How could she keep him from going to Hill Top? They
+had some trouble with the engine and while Wally tinkered with it, she
+sat with her eyes screwed shut, praying that something would happen to
+save her face.
+
+"No extra tires and a balky engine. I'll bounce that mechanic when I get
+back," he grumbled, as they started off again.
+
+The short spring day was beginning to fade, when Isabelle laid her hand
+on his arm.
+
+"This is the cross roads. I get out here," she said.
+
+"I'll run you up," he answered, casually.
+
+"But I'd rather walk, Wally. I need the exercise."
+
+As she was beginning to get out, he had to stop.
+
+"What's the plot?"
+
+"No plot. You'll be terribly late now. It was _sweet_ of you to come,
+Wally, and I'm obliged for the party," she said, kissing him, and
+dismounting.
+
+"Isabelle, have you murdered anybody?" he asked, gravely.
+
+"Not yet," she replied, equally gravely. Then with a wave and a shouted
+good-bye she ran up the hill, and disappeared into the underbrush.
+
+"Well, I'm damned!" grinned her father; and he turned back on his way to
+Boston.
+
+Isabelle ran through the woods singing, whistling, praying. "Good Lord,
+I thank thee," she said, repeatedly. "You can rely on me not to lie
+again." Flushed and relieved from doom, happy as a cricket, she appeared
+at the school. She was greeted with howls of rage from the girls.
+
+"Isabelle, you pig! To carry him off without letting us see him."
+
+"How did he look? Is he handsomer than ever?" they chorused.
+
+But Isabelle escaped their catechism. She had been saved once, and she
+dared not tamper with fate again. At every thought of Wally, speeding
+back to Boston, she drew a deep sigh of relief.
+
+As they were all seated at supper Mr. Benjamin asked:
+
+"Didst thou have a pleasant day with thy father, little girl?"
+
+Ten pairs of envious eyes were upon her.
+
+"Perfect," she sighed.
+
+"Sorry we could not keep him overnight."
+
+The maid entered to speak to Mrs. Benjamin, whereupon she rose and left
+the table. Isabelle was enlarging upon the delights of her holiday when
+her tongue suddenly clave to the roof of her mouth. She heard a voice
+saying:
+
+"Engine wouldn't work--tire punctured."
+
+She prayed violently for a fatal stroke of lightning or paralysis, but
+in vain. Mrs. Benjamin entered, followed by an irritated dapper little
+man.
+
+"Adam, my dear, we have a guest. This is Isabelle's father."
+
+A gasp went round the table--audible, visible. Never in his life had
+Wally Bryce made such a sensation. He stared at these girls who turned
+such strange looks upon him. As for Isabelle, at the moment she would
+not have hesitated at patricide, but that being out of the question, she
+burst into peal after peal of hysterical laughter.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin were perfectly aghast at the behaviour of the
+school, and Wally remarked irritably,--
+
+"Shut up, Isabelle; shut up!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN
+
+
+That supper proved to be a most difficult meal! Usually when there were
+guests, the girls talked and behaved very prettily, but on this occasion
+they sat like silent, accusing ghosts, eating in unbroken stillness.
+Mrs. Benjamin tried to lead them into conversation, but in vain. There
+were cross currents of feeling which she could not understand or cope
+with. Isabelle babbled on, with intermittent fits of hysterical
+laughter. Whenever she spoke, black looks were concentrated upon her;
+when Wally spoke, they were transferred to him. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin
+did their best, but they were relieved when the ordeal was over and the
+girls went off to the study room.
+
+Isabelle was excused, because of her guest. She was glad of every moment
+that postponed her hour of reckoning. Wally could be disposed of, but
+the girls must be met. The Benjamins had duties to attend to, so Wally
+and his daughter were left alone for a quarter of an hour, in the
+library.
+
+"Look here!" he burst out at her. "What's the matter with those kids?"
+
+"Matter?"--innocently.
+
+"They glared at me as if I had murdered their mothers! Do they always
+eat in dead silence like that?"
+
+Isabelle cast a glance over her shoulders to see that they were quite
+alone.
+
+"This is what I tried to save you from," she whispered.
+
+"You mean that's why you bundled me off this morning, and barred me out
+this evening?"
+
+She nodded solemnly.
+
+"The machine balked, the tire blew out, I had to come back," he
+apologized. "What's the matter with 'em anyhow?"
+
+"You see we have a society for the Discouragement of Visiting Parents."
+
+"What's the point?"
+
+"You see, we endure a great deal from our parents, at home, but here we
+are free. The minute they begin visiting us, the trouble begins. So when
+they come, we are pledged to act like this, and they never come again."
+
+"Nice hospitable lot of kids! And do the Benjamins stand for this?"
+
+"They don't know about it; it's a secret."
+
+"They can see, can't they? A blind man could have seen their outrageous
+manners," he remarked, hotly.
+
+"Parents have outrageous manners, too, you know, and we have to put up
+with them"--calmly.
+
+"Well, I'm----"
+
+"Don't swear, Wally; Quakers don't like it."
+
+"I never heard such nerve in my life! Lot of kids setting themselves
+up----"
+
+"Try to put yourself in our place, Wally. When you were at school, did
+you long to have your mother visit you?"
+
+"That was different----"
+
+"No, that was the same," she said, finally. "I tried to save you, but
+you would come back. I've enjoyed your visit very much, but it's against
+our rules to act kindly to visiting parents, and if I do I'll be
+expelled."
+
+"I suppose you'd like me to leave to-night?"--sarcastically.
+
+"No, but get off as soon as you can in the morning, and let me manage
+things to-night."
+
+The Benjamins joined them at this point, so conversation became general.
+Isabelle withdrew into her own mind, to think ahead how to avert the
+next crisis. When the girls came down for the hour of relaxation, there
+would be more embarrassment, unless she could manage. She strolled to
+the window and looked out.
+
+There was a brilliant full moon, showering its largesse over the hills.
+They looked so calm, so remote--why did humans introduce such problems
+into the scheme of things? questioned Isabelle precociously. But the
+view gave her an idea.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin," she cried, "might we have a moonlight tramp and show my
+father some of our walks?"
+
+"Would thy father like that? We often go for a walk in the moonlight,
+Mr. Bryce. The girls like it before they go to bed. Would thee enjoy
+it?"
+
+Isabelle fixed him with a stern eye, and nodded.
+
+"Why, yes, I think that would be nice," said Wally, who hated walking.
+
+When the girls came down they silently accepted the plan. They put on
+their sweaters and boots, as the spring was young and the ground soft.
+Mrs. Benjamin marvelled at their restraint, but laid it to their
+commendable desire to appear well before their guest. Two by two they
+marched dumbly behind the Benjamins and the Bryces. Up hill and down
+they went. Isabelle felt their eyes like javelins in her back, even
+while she kept up a lively stream of conversation.
+
+"Girls, thee need not walk in line," protested Mrs. Benjamin. "Show thy
+father the sowing game, Isabelle. Lead the girls out. This is a game thy
+daughter invented, Mr. Bryce, and which we love to play."
+
+Isabelle, thus adjured, stepped forth, swept the enemy with a glance and
+took command. It was really a sort of a dance, whirling and circling and
+sowing seed in pantomime. Usually it was a wild, laughing happy
+affair--with antics and pranks extemporaneously introduced--but to-night
+it was as forced and funereal as a chorus of grave diggers. Mr. Bryce
+murmured appreciation, Mrs. Benjamin looked her question to her husband,
+who shook his head.
+
+After what seemed to Wally ages of torment and a hundred miles or so of
+action, they went back to the school and to bed. Reminded by Isabelle,
+he arranged for an early start, and then Wally's part in the episode was
+closed.
+
+But Isabelle's troubles had just begun. Peggy was in bed when she
+entered their room, and Isabelle was sure she was awake although her
+face was toward the wall, and no answer to questions passed her lips.
+Isabelle hurried to put out the light, but when she was in bed, whispers
+seemed to surround her, fingers to point at her, out of the dark. She
+turned the situation over and over in her mind. She had spared Wally the
+truth, but she herself must face it. Unless she could think of a way to
+explain her fairy stories to the girls, her position as leader in that
+school was lost. She invented this explanation and that, only to discard
+them. It seemed as if only her death could solve the problem, and she
+felt that to be extreme, in the circumstances.
+
+She turned and tossed and agonized for hours, to fall, finally, into a
+troubled sleep, beset by dreams of herself, as a sort of pariah,
+wandering through her school days, on the edge of things.
+
+The next day brought no soothing surprise. Cold nods of good-morning
+greeted her, groups of whispering critics edged away from her
+contaminating presence. Even Peggy, the faithful, had gone over to
+the enemy. The nervous strain of the day told on her, and when she
+made a bad mistake in a recitation the class tittered.
+
+"Why, girls," said Mr. Benjamin in surprise, "it is not courteous to
+laugh at a mistake."
+
+Evening brought Isabelle to a state of complete despair. The heavens had
+not opened to save her this time. She was to expiate in full. . . . Then
+she rose to new heights. She determined to make full confession and
+demand a public sentence. She would make herself suffer to the full
+extent.
+
+True to instinct, even in despair, she waited until the girls had
+gathered for recreation hour before bedtime. Then she rose up, and as it
+were, laid her head upon the block.
+
+"Mrs. Benjamin, I have to be punished," she said.
+
+"Hast thou, Isabelle?"
+
+"I want the girls to pronounce my sentence."
+
+Mr. Benjamin smiled at his wife.
+
+"I hope thy friends will temper justice with mercy, Isabelle," he
+remarked with the wrinkly smile threatening. "What is thy crime?"
+
+"It's about my father," began the culprit.
+
+"Yes, what about thy father?"
+
+The girls eyed her hostilely, where she stood, by the fireplace,
+dominating the scene.
+
+"I've always loved beautiful people so . . ." she began intensely.
+
+"That is no sin," encouraged Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+"I admire big, handsome men . . ."
+
+One of the girls sniffed. This sound let loose the flow of Isabelle's
+histrionic remorse.
+
+"Oh, you must listen to me," she cried, "you cannot condemn me until I
+have told it all."
+
+"That is fair," said the calm voice of Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+"It was always a disappointment to me that my father was so little and
+queer."
+
+"But, Isabelle," interrupted Mrs. Benjamin, quickly.
+
+"Please, I have to say what I think or it isn't a true story. Wally is
+much the nicest person in our family, but somehow he never seemed to
+count with anybody."
+
+This daring focussed their attention. Mrs. Benjamin shook her head at
+her husband, who was about to interrupt this performance.
+
+"I wanted a big kind of father, who blustered at you and made you feel
+respectful. I wanted him to have adventures, like Don Quixote, and make
+you thrilly all up and down your spine!"
+
+"Didst thou want him to wear a sword and scabbard?" interrupted Mr.
+Benjamin, who disapproved of these heroics. But Isabelle was warmed to
+her subject now, and she did not hear him.
+
+"Imagine what it meant to me to want that kind of a father, and to get
+Wally! You all know how I felt. It was just what you felt last night
+when you saw him first," she accused them. "When I was a lonely little
+girl I used to make up stories about the kind of parent I wanted. The
+made-up one got all mixed up with the real one. So when Peggy asked me
+if my father was handsome, I didn't stop to think which one she meant, I
+just said yes because the make-believe one was awf'ly good looking."
+
+"But you only have one father, Isabelle," Peggy defended herself.
+
+"I know I really have only one, but don't you see, I didn't _mean_ to
+tell a lie, even if it did turn out to be one."
+
+"What did thee tell, Isabelle?" inquired Mrs. Benjamin.
+
+"I told Peggy that my father was handsome, meaning my make-believe one.
+The girls asked me about him, and I told them a lot of stories about
+him. They were always asking me to tell more."
+
+"They were all about rescuing beautiful girls, and catching burglars,
+and saving children. You ought to have heard what she told us about
+him!" exclaimed Agnes Pollock.
+
+"Why, Isabelle!"
+
+"But they were true! They did happen to the other one!"
+
+"There isn't any other one!" retorted Peggy.
+
+"Yes, there is. I believe in him, and so do you, every one of you!"
+countered Isabelle. "He was just as real as Mr. Benjamin. You said so
+yourselves."
+
+"But he's only made up."
+
+"Oh, can't you see that the things you make up are lots realer than the
+things that are?" cried Isabelle with such conviction that they were all
+silenced.
+
+"The matter comes to this, doesn't it? Isabelle, not intending to lie,
+misled all of ye about her father," said Mr. Benjamin, gravely.
+
+"Yes, and we adored him so! When that little wizened man came in, we
+almost died!" blurted out Peggy.
+
+The light broke upon the Benjamins, but they tried not to smile at each
+other.
+
+"Isabelle's imagination can prove a gift or a curse," Mr. Benjamin
+continued. "Its possession lays a great obligation upon her. If it is
+used to mislead, or to obscure the truth, it is a dangerous power.
+Whatever the extenuating circumstances, it comes to this, that Isabelle
+lied to her friends. Phoebe, what does thee think about this situation?"
+
+"I think thee is right in saying that this is a very serious matter. I
+agree with Isabelle, that she should be punished, if only to remind her
+that such misuse of a talent is a very ugly thing."
+
+"I have been punished by the way the girls have treated me! I am
+punished when Mr. Benjamin says I have told a lie! But I want you to do
+something to hurt me! I wish Mr. Benjamin would beat me, or put me on
+bread and water. I hate myself. I'm just a common, mean liar! Whatever
+you decide to do to me is all right, and I deserve it!"
+
+As she denounced herself, she fairly glowed with indignation; she was
+radiant with humility. The girls were hypnotized by her!
+
+"I think Isabelle should miss the recreation hour for a month," said Mr.
+Benjamin.
+
+The girls gasped, for this was the extreme penalty, but Isabelle never
+flinched.
+
+"I will, Mr. Benjamin. I'll go to bed alone, in the dark, for a month
+and pray the Lord not to let me be a liar."
+
+"I think thee must not rely too much upon divine power, Isabelle. Set a
+watch upon thy tongue thyself," he said--very severely for the gentle
+Adam. "Thee may go to bed now."
+
+Condemned, abased, like a prisoner en route to the gallows, Isabelle
+walked from among them. She was disgraced, but, Isabelle-like, she wore
+her shame like a rose in her hair!
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER SIXTEEN
+
+
+Isabelle was not forced to abrogate her reign, after all. Somehow her
+cleverness and her oddity always kept the spotlight focussed upon her.
+Needless to state Wally did not repeat his visit, and the spring term
+came to its end.
+
+With its expiration came a letter from Mrs. Bryce asking whether the
+Benjamins would keep Isabelle at Hill Top until the end of August, as
+the Bryces were going to Europe and did not wish to take her with them.
+It never occurred to Mrs. Bryce to consult the girl's pleasure in the
+matter, but Mrs. Benjamin carried the letter to her at once.
+
+"Would thee like to stay, Isabelle?"
+
+"Like it? I'd adore it!" cried that young person, with the explosive
+over-emphasis of youth.
+
+Mrs. Benjamin smiled and patted her hand.
+
+"We would like it, too. I will write thy mother."
+
+So it was arranged, and Isabelle stayed on. Two other girls were to
+remain also. By special petition to Wally Isabelle was permitted to have
+the Peruvian horse to spend the summer with her.
+
+It was a never-to-be-forgotten holiday for those three girls. They took
+part in all the activities of the farm. They picked fruit and helped
+Mrs. Benjamin and the cook to can the big supplies of jam and jelly for
+the school. They helped in the garden with the vegetables or worked and
+weeded Mrs. Benjamin's beloved flowers. They pitched hay, they drove the
+rake and the grass cutter. They were busy in the open from morning until
+night and as happy as field larks.
+
+Lessons had stopped, but education went on. They read aloud with Mrs.
+Benjamin; they studied and learned, first hand, of Nature's prodigality
+or niggardliness. Always there was the cultivation of the spirit. Love
+and fair dealing made the foundation upon which these simple Quaker folk
+had builded their lives, and no one could live in the home of their
+making without feeling that these were as essential to life as
+breathing.
+
+Isabelle had long, wild gallops over the hills on her horse, during
+which she pondered "the long, long thoughts of youth" and brought the
+resulting problems to Mrs. Benjamin in the weekly letters, or in some of
+their intimate talks.
+
+"It is hard to believe that this is the freakish sullen child who came
+to us less than a year ago," Mrs. Benjamin commented as the girls went
+off to bed one night.
+
+"No, it is wonderful. Thou hast made a new being of her."
+
+"Thou hast done it as much as I have. It is evidently her first
+experience of being understood and loved."
+
+"What strange excrescences do grow up on our so-called civilization," he
+said.
+
+"Is thee calling the rich an excrescence?" she smiled.
+
+"I know that they are just human beings like ourselves, but how do they
+get things so awry? They put such a slight upon parenthood, with their
+servant-made children."
+
+She nodded, and he went on developing his thought.
+
+"It is ominous when the basic relationships are so abused--marriage held
+so lightly, children disdaining their own parents, as our Isabelle does.
+Where is it leading us, Phoebe?"
+
+"Dear knows--dear knows!" she sighed, shaking her head.
+
+It was a well-worn theme with them. They had to ponder deeply these
+tendencies, for it was their work to try to counteract these destructive
+forces--to build up in the hearts of these servant-made children, as Mr.
+Benjamin called them, a respect for God and man and the holy things that
+grow out of their relationship.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The summer passed almost without event. The three girls, hard and brown
+as Indians, were beginning to plan for the fall, when the others would
+return.
+
+It was in early September that the blow fell upon Isabelle. A telegram
+from Wally had appraised his daughter of their arrival in New York. They
+were to spend the fall at the Club house near The Beeches. He hoped she
+was well. Did she want him to come and see her?
+
+She answered this briefly, also a note from her mother. As Mrs. Bryce
+rarely troubled to write letters to any one, Isabelle pondered the
+reason for this amiable epistle. It was soon to be explained. Mrs.
+Benjamin received a letter from Mrs. Bryce saying that notification had
+arrived that Isabelle would be admitted this October to Miss Vantine's
+Finishing School, where her name had been entered for years. She wished
+the girl sent directly to this address in New York on the last day of
+September, as she was to board at the school for the present until it
+was decided whether the Bryces would open their town house.
+
+Mr. Benjamin shook his head sadly over this letter, and carried it to
+his wife.
+
+"Adam--Adam, we cannot let her go to _that_ school! It will be her
+ruination," she exclaimed.
+
+"My dear, it is the most fashionable school in New York," he replied,
+with a sigh.
+
+"It is shoddy, and artificial and false!" she protested in unwonted
+heat. "My poor, dear Isabelle! Adam, couldn't we make a plea for
+her?--tell her mother how she improves here, how fast she progresses?"
+
+"Phoebe dear, dost thou think that that would interest this lady?"
+
+"But we can't let her go without one effort to save her. I think it is
+as serious as that, at this stage of the girl's development."
+
+"Suppose thee writes a letter to Mrs. Bryce."
+
+"I will. Let us not speak of it to Isabelle until I have her mother's
+answer."
+
+"Very well, dear heart."
+
+Mrs. Benjamin wrote and re-wrote the letter. Finally one was despatched
+and she anxiously awaited the reply. It was long in coming, and it fell
+like a blow on her heart. Mrs. Bryce was glad to have such a good report
+of Isabelle, but her plan had always been that the girl should spend,
+at Miss Vantine's school, the two years previous to her debut, as she
+herself had done. All the girls of her daughter's set went there, and
+she wished Isabelle to be with them. Thanking Mrs. Benjamin for her
+interest, etc., etc.
+
+The Benjamins had a conference of disappointment over it, and it was
+decided that Isabelle must be told. Mrs. Benjamin's face was so rueful
+over it that her husband offered to do the telling. He and Isabelle were
+going off on an expedition together, which would give him an opportunity,
+and Mrs. Benjamin could provide the comfort that must follow.
+
+He found it no easy task. As he looked at his sturdy young companion,
+listened to her picturesque talk, he felt that he was called upon to
+tell a young vestal virgin that she was to be sacrificed to the god of
+mammon.
+
+"This is good air, isn't it!" she said, breathing deeply. "How do people
+live in cities, do you suppose?"
+
+Mr. Benjamin longed to shirk, but he took himself in hand.
+
+"I have had a letter from thy mother, Isabelle."
+
+She glanced at him suspiciously.
+
+"What does she want?"
+
+"She wants thee to go to a school in New York this winter."
+
+She stopped and faced him in alarm.
+
+"To leave Hill Top?"
+
+"I'm afraid so, little sister."
+
+"But I won't! I won't go away from here. I love it here, I love you and
+Mrs. Benjamin. Oh, why does Max always interfere with me? I hate her!"
+she cried, passionately.
+
+Mr. Benjamin laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, and walked beside
+her.
+
+"I understand what a blow this is to thee, and how unhappy it makes
+thee. But one of the things that we want our girls to learn is to honour
+and respect their parents," he said gently.
+
+"But how can I respect Max, Mr. Benjamin? She never respects me."
+
+He saw the justice of her remark and strove not to play the moralist.
+
+"Thee can put a curb on thy lips, my dear. I wish that thee might show
+Mrs. Benjamin and me that thy life here with us has meant something to
+thee, by obeying thy mother as cheerfully and willingly as thee can."
+
+He felt the young body under his hand shudder with the effort for
+control. She lifted stricken eyes to him, as he said afterward, and
+nodded without a word. He helped her as well as he could, by talking of
+other things, but he felt her suffering as keenly as if it had been his
+own.
+
+When they came back to the house, she went to her room, and he carried
+the report to his wife.
+
+"Sorrow goes so deep with them, at this age," he said, tenderly.
+
+"Poor, passionate child; she will always be torn by life," sighed Mrs.
+Benjamin. "I will not go to her yet. I'll let her try solitude first."
+
+She did not appear at lunch, so Mrs. Benjamin carried a tray to her. The
+girl was not crying, she was sitting by the window, looking out over
+the hills, in a sort of dumb agony.
+
+"I want thee to eat some lunch, my Isabelle."
+
+A white face turned toward her. The very sun-brown seemed to have been
+seared off by suffering.
+
+"I can't eat, dear Mrs. Benjamin," she said.
+
+"I've been thinking that we might make a plan, dear," the older woman
+said, setting the tray aside and dismissing it. She drew a chair beside
+the girl and took her cold hands. "Thou wilt go to this school, as thy
+mother wishes, but when thou hast finished--it is only two years--if
+thee thinks the kind of life thy mother plans for thee too uncongenial,
+thee must come back to us, and help us with the school. There will
+always be a place for thee here, my child."
+
+"But two years in that loathsome school!"
+
+"Thee dost not know that it's loathsome. I've no doubt that if thee will
+take the right spirit with thee, it may be very good for thee. There are
+opportunities in that great city which Hill Top cannot offer."
+
+"But there won't be any Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin! Oh, Mrs. Benjamin, why
+couldn't you have been my mother?"
+
+"I should have been proud to be, Isabelle," she answered simply. "Thou
+art as dear to me as a daughter."
+
+Isabelle bent and kissed the kind hands that held her own, but she shed
+no tears.
+
+"We all have bitter, disappointing things to meet. I shall expect my
+daughter to meet them with a fine courage," she smiled.
+
+"I'll try," said Isabelle; "but I'd rather die than leave here."
+
+"Thee has met life very squarely, so far as I have known thee. This is a
+test of thy quality, and I know thee will meet it like my true
+daughter."
+
+The girl's eyes brimmed at that, but she looked off over the hills and
+merely nodded. Presently she rose and leaned her cheek for a second
+against Mrs. Benjamin's hair.
+
+"It's all right, mother Benjamin," she said, with the old ring in her
+voice.
+
+The subject was not mentioned again. Save for a somewhat closer
+affection, a tenderer devotion on Isabelle's part, no one would have
+known that they were facing a separation, which was an agony of dread to
+the girl. As Mr. Benjamin had said, of his wisdom: "Sorrow strikes so
+deep at that age."
+
+She took her part in the duties and pleasures of the days. But the
+Benjamins' loving eyes marked a change. She brought no yeoman's appetite
+to the table, she had to be urged to eat. The morning often brought her
+downstairs with dark circles about her eyes.
+
+"Did thee sleep, dear child?"
+
+"Oh, yes, thanks," was the invariable answer.
+
+"She's getting all eyes again," grumbled Mr. Benjamin.
+
+Not until the very last day were the two other girls told of her coming
+departure. The last days were packed to the brim with duties, so that
+she might have no leisure to be sad. She put up a plucky fight; not a
+tear had she shed. But on the last day, when the clear bugle call
+roused her, she sprang from her bed, and ran to the window. Nature was
+at her painting again; splashes of red and yellow and russet brown
+streaked the hills. A sort of delicate mist enfolded them. Was it only a
+year ago that she had looked at these blessed hills for the first time?
+Again father Benjamin's salute to the day rang out. She leaned her head
+against the window, and her body shook with sobs, though no tears came.
+
+When Mr. Benjamin drove up to the door in the wide surrey behind the
+fat, dappled horses, she kissed the girls smilingly, she clung to Mrs.
+Benjamin for a long second, then she took her seat beside her friend.
+She looked up at them, in the doorway, waving their good-byes.
+
+"If I didn't know that I was coming back in two years to stay, I
+couldn't bear it, mother Benjamin," she called back. Then the fat horses
+started off briskly, down the road.
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
+
+
+Miss Vantine's School for Girls was probably no better and no worse than
+schools of its kind. It bestowed a superficial training upon its pupils,
+with an accent upon the social graces. Its graduates were always easily
+identified by their English a's, their good diction, their charming
+manners, and their intensely conventional point of view. Any departure
+from the Vantine "norm" in the way of investigation or conclusion was
+discouraged as not nice.
+
+Miss Vantine truly believed in herself as an educator and since her
+school had held its prestige for thirty years, she had reason to think
+that other people agreed with her. Her mark on a girl was absolutely
+guaranteed.
+
+Into this conventional atmosphere Isabelle came from the simple,
+friendly life of Hill Top; and she found it hateful. It was the spirit
+rather than the letter which had prevailed in the Benjamin school, but
+here only the letter counted. The outward forms, correct manners, were
+emphasized every day; but in the process, the courteous heart was
+neglected and left out.
+
+The teachers were the custodians of information, and of the law. They
+bore a perfectly formal relationship to the pupils. Education consisted
+in pouring facts into the upturned cups--the minds of the pupils. When
+Isabelle began to question, to dig deeper into the root of things, the
+why of things--if instead of the usual "Yes, Miss Vantine," or "No, Miss
+Vantine," she demanded basic reasons--the explanation was always
+repeated, patiently in the same words, and the lesson went on.
+
+Isabelle's "rough ways" were deplored, and she was reproved every hour
+in the day. Restraints were imposed on her mind and her body. She was
+like a healthy, curious young animal, all tied with bonds that she could
+neither loose nor fight.
+
+As for the girls, there were some old acquaintances among them--Margie
+Hunter for one. But their talk was of boys, of beaux, and for ever of
+males! They spent hours conversing about their clothes, or commenting on
+the manners of their parents and the morals of their parents' friends.
+They were deeply interested in the discussion of sex, and there were
+some phases of the subject dwelt upon which would have sent Miss Vantine
+down to her grave with the shock, could she have heard their talk.
+
+Now the Benjamins had handled the subject of sex hygiene in their school
+as a vitally important subject. The girls had been led through the study
+of botany and zoology, to procreation and the sex relation in human
+society. Mrs. Benjamin had talked the matter out with her girls with
+fearless frankness. She had encouraged their questions, she had touched
+on the pathology of sex, and she had made for them a high ideal of
+motherhood.
+
+Isabelle realized that the talk of these girls was false and ugly. She
+said so; and the result was that she was excluded from the intimacy of
+the leading group. In her letters to Mrs. Benjamin she poured out her
+whole heart. Protest, misery, loneliness; Mrs. Benjamin sensed them all
+in the poignant letters the girl sent her. She replied with long,
+intimate chapters of encouragement and understanding. It was her counsel
+which kept Isabelle going the first six months of this experience.
+
+She tried with all her might to carry into her daily life the ideals
+taught and lived at Hill Top. But she seemed to be speaking a language
+that nobody understood. Her teachers bored her. She found she could keep
+ahead in her classes with only the most perfunctory study, so the ideal
+of a high standard for work was the first to go. What was the use? There
+was not enough to occupy her, so the old restlessness came upon her,
+with mischievous uses for her excess vitality. She gained a reputation
+as a law breaker, and she was watched and punished with increasing
+frequency. Her old leadership in misbehaviour was once more established.
+The precocious cynicism of her associates began to impress her as
+clever. She outdid them at it. Mrs. Benjamin's friendship was her only
+hope of salvation now. And then, in January, after a brief spell of
+pneumonia, dear Mrs. Benjamin left the world she had so graced, leaving
+an aching vacancy behind for her husband and her friends.
+
+To Isabelle it came as her first real sorrow. For weeks after, the girl
+retired into herself as into a locked room. She could not eat; she did
+not sleep; she grew thin, and haggard, and pale. Worse than that; in her
+rebellion at this loss, she grew bitter. She threw this suffering at the
+feet of God with a threat. She felt herself the victim of eternal
+injustice. Just as she achieved happiness, or friendship, it was always
+snatched from her. Always, before, Max had cheated her of things; now it
+was God.
+
+She came out of it the Isabelle of her early childhood--_revoltee_,
+enemy to authority, defier of God and the universe. Her wit against them
+all. She would take what she wanted now, and let them look out for her!
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+From that time on, she was the acknowledged school "terror." She put her
+entire mind upon misbehaving, and she was as ingenious as a monkey.
+Never a week passed that she was not shut up for an hour in the library
+with Miss Vantine, who always felt, poor lady, that she was dealing with
+a manifestation of the devil.
+
+"Did you, or did you not throw an electric lamp on the floor during the
+algebra lesson, Isabelle?"
+
+"I _dropped_ one on the floor."
+
+"Don't equivocate! You _threw_ it"--sternly.
+
+"All right; I threw it"--defiantly.
+
+"Why did you do it?"
+
+"To wake up the class. If you knew how dull that hour is you wouldn't
+blame me."
+
+"Don't be impertinent!"
+
+"Miss Marshall is a fool. If you ask her a question outside the lesson
+she has to look it up in the book."
+
+"You are not here to criticize your teachers, you are here to account
+for your misbehaviour."
+
+"I am telling you why I misbehave. I can't listen to her. Nobody does.
+She sets us all wild. Everybody was half asleep so I bounced the lamp on
+the floor. She ought to have been grateful to me for getting their
+attention."
+
+"This is the second time this week that you have been reported for
+insubordination. This conduct cannot continue. I am writing your parents
+to-day that unless you mend your ways, they must take you away from
+here. You are contaminating the entire school."
+
+"They can't take me away too quickly."
+
+Miss Vantine thought best to ignore this impertinence.
+
+"You will take twenty demerits, and miss your walk in the park for a
+week. You may go now."
+
+The girl sauntered insolently out of the room, leaving Miss Vantine
+white with rage. She wrote a very firm letter to Mrs. Walter Bryce, who
+in turn wrote a denunciatory letter to her daughter, and there the
+matter rested.
+
+One disgrace followed another, and finally the school year dragged to a
+close. Isabelle went to The Beeches for the summer. There were four
+months of war to the knife with her mother, the usual number of scrapes,
+and a violent love affair with Herbert Hunter, home from St. George's.
+
+"What became of your reformed character?" inquired Wally one day. "I
+thought the Benjamins had made a human being of you."
+
+"They nearly did. But Max dragged me off and sent me to that fool
+Vantine, and I got over being human. What's the use?"
+
+The Bryces were glad when fall came and she was sent back to the school.
+As for Isabelle she did not much care where she went. There was a
+certain satisfaction--an _esprit de diablerie_--which amused her. Sharp
+of tongue and of wit, she knew she had a real gift for making herself a
+nuisance, and she took pride in it.
+
+Miss Vantine warned her at the beginning of the term that she was a
+marked character, and that unless she behaved herself she could not
+stay. She tempered her behaviour somewhat during the first term, but it
+was no use. Like every dog with a bad name, all the mischief in the
+school was attributed to her. According to schoolgirl canons of loyalty
+it was an unforgivable sin to tell tales or "give people away," so
+Isabelle shouldered the iniquity of the whole school. The teachers hated
+and feared her.
+
+Miss Vantine bore with her like a martyr--for two reasons. One was that
+she liked Mrs. Bryce, who had been her pupil; and the other was that she
+had never yet expelled a girl, and she disliked the idea intensely.
+
+But there came a day in early February of Isabelle's second year of
+residence when the end was reached. Herbert Hunter had smuggled a note
+to her that he was coming to New York to have his tonsils out and he
+wanted to see her before he went to the hospital. She answered by
+special delivery and agreed to meet him on Sunday, in the Park. When the
+girls were entering church on that day, Isabelle was taken with a
+violent fit of coughing, and was left in the vestibule to quiet herself.
+She fled to her tryst. But she miscalculated the length of the sermon,
+and met the school coming out, on the church steps. She was questioned,
+led home in disgrace. She was accused of truancy; she admitted it, even
+confessed her rendezvous in the Park.
+
+Miss Vantine had to act this time. She sent a final letter to the
+Bryces with a sentence of suspension for their daughter, who was packed
+off home at once, in disgrace. Mrs. Bryce was furious because she and
+Wally were going off with the Abercrombie Brendons on their yacht. She
+explained their dilemma to their hostess and she was decent enough to
+include the girl, but it was a nuisance to have her along.
+
+No time was lost in letting Isabelle feel her disgrace. After a
+perfunctory greeting, her mother remarked:
+
+"You've made a nice record for yourself, haven't you?"
+
+Isabelle made no reply.
+
+"Why don't you answer me?"
+
+"Foolish question, Number One. Yes, I have made a nice record for
+myself."
+
+"If you make yourself a nuisance around here, I shall find a way to
+punish you," she threatened her.
+
+"Go ahead. Get it all off your chest at once and then drop it."
+
+Mrs. Bryce decided upon injured dignity, as her best role.
+
+"Where's Wally?" demanded Isabelle.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What's doing around here? I expect to enjoy myself on this little
+vacation. I hope you don't intend to be too disagreeable."
+
+Later at dinner Wally remarked to his wife--
+
+"Tell her about the trip?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What trip?" demanded their daughter.
+
+"We are going off on the Abercrombie Brendons' yacht, and your
+unfortunate return has forced Mrs. Brendon to include you in the party."
+
+"I hope you said 'No, thanks' for me."
+
+"We said 'yes' for you," replied Wally.
+
+"But I won't go. Shut up on a boat with you two and the Brendons? Not
+much."
+
+"You're not being consulted," remarked her mother, coolly.
+
+"You'll have to drag me aboard."
+
+Mrs. Bryce's temper flared.
+
+"You will walk aboard and you will behave like a decent individual while
+we are on this cruise, or there will be the most serious consequences
+you have ever met yet. Nobody wants you on this party, you understand,
+and the less conspicuous you make yourself, the better."
+
+Isabelle beamed upon them.
+
+"Thank you so much for your charming invitation, my dear, doting
+parents. I accept with pleasure, and I think I can promise you that your
+little outing will be a complete success, so far as I am concerned."
+
+She laughed lightly, and Mr. and Mrs. Bryce exchanged uneasy glances.
+Something in that laugh did not promise well for their holiday.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
+
+
+The motor boat from the _Empress_ was at the pier when the three Bryces
+made their appearance on the day of the departure. They were taken out
+to the yacht at once, where Mr. Abercrombie Brendon was already
+ensconced. He was a pompous, red-faced little man, with a great deal of
+stomach and a great deal of manner. He was in high good humour with the
+weather and the world in general. He greeted Isabelle by singing, a line
+from a light opera success of his younger days--
+
+"Isabella, Isabella, the love-e-ly queen of Spain."
+
+"Silly ass!" said she to herself, and she went to lean over the rail and
+watch for the coming of the others. They arrived shortly and she took
+inventory. First Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon ascended the steps. She was a
+big, arrogant, impressive woman whom Isabelle immediately named
+"Hecuba." She was followed by a lovely, blonde creature, with deep-blue
+eyes and a short upper lip.
+
+Isabelle fixed her attention upon the last comer, who certainly was an
+attention-fixing young man. He was extremely handsome. Here was the one
+and only hope of this party, so far as she was concerned.
+
+There was a great clatter of greetings.
+
+"Come here, Isabelle, and make your manners," ordered her mother. She
+obeyed, reluctantly.
+
+"So glad to have a young thing with us, my dear," boomed Mrs. Brendon in
+her big voice. "Althea, this is Isabelle Bryce. Miss Morton, Isabelle."
+
+The lovely vision smiled faintly and nodded.
+
+"This is Mr. Jerry Paxton," Mrs. Brendon continued.
+
+Isabelle shot a glance at him, but he failed to get it.
+
+"How do you do?" he said, absently, turning to help Althea adjust her
+veil.
+
+There followed the ceremony of apportioning the staterooms, getting into
+deck hats, and the other preliminaries, while the boat was steaming down
+the harbour. Isabelle stayed on deck and made friends with the captain
+and the sailors. It was fun to watch them padding about so swiftly,
+coiling ropes, and doing their tasks so featly.
+
+The first few days were clear and beautiful. They spent the time on
+deck. Isabelle appraised the situation the first day out. Mrs. Brendon
+intended that the handsome Paxton man should be permanently annexed to
+the blonde beauty, who entirely concurred in the idea. The Paxton man
+was not yet entirely won over to the plan; therefore, he was restless
+and on his guard. Max flirted with old Brendon, and Wally was at loose
+ends. He occasionally donated his society to his daughter.
+
+"I'll make a bet with you, Wally, that Madame Hecuba Brendon won't put
+it through."
+
+"Put what through?"
+
+"Marry Jerry Paxton to the lady with the short lip."
+
+Wally laughed.
+
+"You don't miss anything, do you?"
+
+"I do not."
+
+"You're too young to notice such things."
+
+"Lord! but parents are a bore!" quoth Isabelle at that.
+
+For the most part she kept out of their way those first days. Max
+noticed it, and warned Wally that she was probably cooking up some
+mischief to explode on them.
+
+It would have surprised them could they have peeped into the girl's
+mind. She liked being alone, being still. There had been considerable
+strain to keeping up a reputation as a school terror. It had meant being
+constantly on the alert for an opportunity to misbehave; it meant
+thinking up plots, living up to an exacting standard of wickedness. The
+reaction had come with these idle days and she enjoyed it.
+
+Then, too, she loved the vastness of the sea and the sky, between which
+they made their way. She sat for hours watching white gulls that
+followed in their wake. She wondered if they were not the souls of the
+departed, and she conceived one friendly one, which flew quite near them
+for days, to be the soul of Mrs. Benjamin. Sometimes when she was sure
+that no one was near she stood in the stern and called out to it.
+
+"Dear Mrs. Benjamin, I know you're there. Don't leave me, will you? I
+love so to watch you circling up there. Is it nice in Heaven?"
+
+She pondered about death a good deal, and about heaven. She had not been
+able to bear such thoughts since Mrs. Benjamin died, so bitter had been
+her grief. But there was soothing in the silent vastness, and she came
+to think of heaven as a sublimated Hill Top with Mrs. Benjamin still
+teaching the young.
+
+She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together. She noted the way
+she looked at him--the half-playful wholly tender way she appropriated
+him. It led the girl to ponder upon love also. Here were two beautiful
+people who, according to all the rules of play and story, should be
+making love every minute, in this paradise. Why did the beautiful young
+man hesitate?
+
+[Illustration: _She watched Jerry and Althea pacing the deck together.
+. . . It led the girl to ponder upon love also_]
+
+She decided to interview Althea and see what sort of creature she might
+be. It was not so simple, because Althea was barely aware of Isabelle's
+existence, also she was never without Jerry at her side, if either she
+or Mrs. Brendon could manage it. But there came a chance, when she was
+alone on deck, and Isabelle hastily took the vacated seat beside her.
+Althea glanced at her, faintly surprised.
+
+"Are you having a good time on this cruise?" Isabelle opened fire.
+
+"Oh, yes--very. Aren't you?"
+
+"Not especially. But then I haven't any handsome young man to play
+with."
+
+Althea frowned and made her first mistake.
+
+"You're quite too young for any such ideas," she said.
+
+"I'm out of the cradle, you know!"--hotly. "I'm old enough to know that
+I could handle a handsome young man better than you do, for all your
+age."
+
+"I think you're extremely impertinent!"
+
+"You ought to make a friend of me. I can tell you a thing or two. For
+one thing, he's too sure of you."
+
+Althea rose, white with fury.
+
+"I shall certainly report this impudence to your mother," she said,
+haughtily, moving away. But Isabelle fired the last shot.
+
+"Oh, Max will agree with me. You ought to watch her. She's got some
+technique herself."
+
+After that encounter Althea looked over and through Isabelle, as if she
+were thin air. It amused the girl immensely, and in her wise head she
+made a fair judgment of Miss Morton's mind and disposition. She decided
+that she was entirely unworthy of the god-like Jerry, and she was glad
+he hesitated.
+
+She began to watch him with increased interest. She made romances about
+him, with herself as heroine. She played scenes in which she outwitted
+the haughty beauty, and fled with the hero. She began to pity Jerry. He
+was the unwilling victim of Althea and Mrs. Brendon. How could she,
+Isabelle Bryce, rescue him from their clutches?
+
+In the process of her dreaming she wrecked the yacht, Jerry saved her, and
+as soon as they reached shore they were married. In one version, Althea,
+seeing that he loved Isabelle, threw herself overboard and perished. There
+were many stories, but they always had one ending--Isabelle won and wed
+the handsome young man.
+
+One windy morning when the other "stuffies" (as she called them to
+herself) were playing bridge inside, Isabelle squatted on deck, her chin
+on her knees, watching the big breakers, listening to the scream of the
+petrels, and as usual building air castles about herself and Jerry,
+when lo! her hero came striding down the deck and all at once he stopped
+before her.
+
+"Hello! Aren't you afraid you'll blow overboard?" he inquired.
+
+"No, I'm not. You've waked up, have you?"
+
+"Have I been asleep?"
+
+"You haven't seen me before," she retorted.
+
+"Well, I see you now. Do you know what you look like?" He smiled down at
+her.
+
+"Yes. I look like a ripe olive."
+
+"No, you look like a cricket. Are you always so silent? Don't you ever
+chirp?"
+
+"Me, silent? I've given the Wallys the blow of their lives. They think
+I'm sick, I've been so good on this rotten cruise."
+
+"What caused the reform--good company?"
+
+"No, I'm getting ready to break it to them, that I may not be taken back
+at that school. I got into the devil of a row."
+
+"Did you? And they expelled you?"
+
+"Suspended me, until they decide. That's why I had to come on this jolly
+party."
+
+"You don't like it?"
+
+"Of course, I don't like it. How'd I know whether you'd wake up or not?"
+
+"Did you want me to wake up?" he asked, curiously.
+
+"But, _oui_, aye, _ja_, yes, of course. You don't suppose I want to play
+with fat old Brendon, do you? Wally is a fearful bore, so there is only
+you."
+
+"Poor little cricket, she wanted a playmate," he teased.
+
+"She did. I can't rub my knees together and make a 'crick,' you know, so
+I had to wait until you came to. I'd have pushed you overboard if it
+hadn't happened to-day. I'm so full of unused pep, I'm ready to pop!"
+
+"Come on. I'm awake. Now what?"
+
+"Let's warm up," she said, and was up and off down the deck in one
+spring. Jerry pursued. She raced around the whole deck twice, then
+waited for him to catch up with her.
+
+"Puffing, Jerry? You're getting fat," she jeered.
+
+"You impudent little beggar, I'd like to shake you."
+
+"Try it!"
+
+This might have been called Isabelle's entrance on the scene, because
+from that moment on, she took the stage and exerted herself to hold it.
+She tantalized Jerry every minute. She took all the privileges of
+youthful sixteen, and made frank, outspoken love to him. She never left
+him alone with Althea for a moment. She roused in the breast of that
+blonde young woman such a fierce hatred that murder would have been a
+mild expression of her desires.
+
+Even Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon took a hand, trying first hauteur and
+disapproval, descending finally to bribery and entreaty. Max and Wally
+laboured with their offspring. She only turned big eyes upon them and
+entreated them to tell her what displeased them. She was trying to be a
+credit to them, to save them all from complete dissolution through the
+boredom that had settled down upon them like a cloud.
+
+"You let Jerry Paxton alone," ordered her mother.
+
+"But he adores me, and he is so bored."
+
+"Conceited jackanapes!" said Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"He'd jump overboard if it wasn't for me. I'm his only salvation from
+the wax doll."
+
+Wally laughed and the fight was lost. Mrs. Brendon ordered the captain
+to Palm Beach at once, all steam on. As soon as they landed Jerry
+prepared for flight. He produced a fictitious telegram calling him at
+once to New York.
+
+"Jerry, how can you leave me, in the house of the enemy?" Isabelle
+demanded, when she got him alone.
+
+"Hard lines, kid, but I'm off," he laughed.
+
+"If you loved me you'd take me too."
+
+"You're crazy!"
+
+"But you like me crazy, Jerry."
+
+He grinned and made no reply.
+
+But Isabelle had seen a way. She asked Wally for some money to buy a
+souvenir. The treasure she bought was a ticket to New York on the night
+train. When she was ordered to bed because she was too young for hotel
+hops, she bade Jerry farewell, and went off without protest. From that
+moment on, she worked fast. She pinned a note to Max's pincushion, in
+the most approved fashion. She packed a bag, took a cab to the station,
+went to bed, and what is more, to sleep, in the calm satisfaction, that
+the story was to have a happy ending!
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER NINETEEN
+
+
+The romantic adventure of running off with Jerry proved a dismal
+failure. She had failed to study the psychology of her _particeps
+criminis_ in the fascination of analyzing her own. Far from being
+pleased with her company, he was greatly annoyed thereat. He wired her
+father the facts, begged him to follow to Jacksonville and take her off
+his hands. When Wally stepped from under, as it were, directing Jerry to
+hand the pest over to a teacher in New York, the young man's irritation
+became excessive and he was at no trouble to conceal it.
+
+Isabelle confessed that she had informed her mother "in a pin-cushion
+note" that she had eloped with Jerry. She pointed out to him that, after
+this public announcement of her intentions, it would be necessary for
+him to marry her, "to save her honour" as she phrased it. He laughed,
+brutally. He inquired her age, and when she boasted that she was "going
+on seventeen"--that many girls were "wooed and married and a'," by that
+time--he laughed again.
+
+When, however, she persisted in the idea, and declared her love for him,
+he talked to her like a disagreeable elder brother, casting reflections
+upon her breeding and her manners. He told her that she was a silly
+little thing, that she did not amuse him in the least, and that it was
+high time she began to conduct herself like a lady. He began to address
+her, coldly, as Miss Bryce.
+
+She appealed to him, coquetted with him, abused him; all to no effect. He
+remained formal and distant during the entire journey. She was deeply hurt
+and humiliated by his actions, but on the whole she got considerable
+satisfaction out of the role of blighted being.
+
+They both concentrated upon the end of the trip. Jerry longed to be rid
+of his unwelcome responsibility, and Isabelle was interested because she
+had arranged a coup for the moment.
+
+Wally had assured Jerry, by wire, that a teacher from the school would
+meet Isabelle at the station. Isabelle, in the meantime, had wired Miss
+Vantine that a change of plans made it unnecessary for the teacher to
+meet the train. She signed the telegram with her father's name. She
+awaited the moment when Jerry realized that he was not to be rid of her,
+with considerable excitement.
+
+Arrived in New York at ten o'clock, she preserved a demure silence while
+he stormed up and down the station looking for the teacher. He was
+finally convinced that there was no one to meet them.
+
+"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
+
+"Come along," he replied, ungraciously, bundling her into a cab.
+
+They went to a studio building and Jerry pounded on somebody's door for
+ten minutes, in vain. Then he tried another.
+
+"None of your friends care to see us, Jerry," grinned Isabelle. Finally
+he unlocked a door and turned on a light.
+
+"This is your place, Jerry," she cried; and she began a swift inspection.
+
+"You can turn in here for the night, and in the morning I will take you
+to the school."
+
+"Where will you sleep?"
+
+"At a club."
+
+"And leave me in this spooky place alone? I won't stay."
+
+"Don't you see that I cannot take you around town at this hour of the
+night looking for lodgings?"
+
+"I'll go in the bedroom, and you can sleep on the couch. I won't stay
+here alone."
+
+Eventually he telephoned a friend of his, named Miss Jane Judd. He
+invited her to stay with Isabelle. He even went and brought her and
+explained to her that he would call for Isabelle in the morning.
+
+"Oh, Jerry, don't leave me," cried Isabelle, clinging to him. "I don't
+want to stay with this strange woman. I want to go with you--always,
+Jerry--because I love you so. Won't you take me, Jerry?"
+
+"Don't be a little goose, Isabelle."
+
+"Please don't hate me, Jerry," she sobbed.
+
+"I don't hate you when you're sensible."
+
+"Won't you call me Cr-Cricket, just once, Jerry?"
+
+"If you'll be a good girl and go to bed."
+
+"Kiss me good-night."
+
+"I'll do nothing of the kind. Miss Judd, take charge of this crazy kid.
+I'll be back in the morning," he said, desperately, as he escaped.
+
+Isabelle wept, more from weariness and chagrin than anything else, but
+a sort of amused patience on Miss Judd's part caused her to cut short
+any histrionic display. As they prepared for bed she began to regale
+Miss Judd with spicy descriptions of the yachting party. Jane Judd
+laughed heartily.
+
+"You're very naughty, but you are funny," she said to the girl.
+
+"I don't suppose Mrs. Brendon and Althea think I'm funny. Poor old
+baby-doll Althea! She must be furious. She was so sure of Jerry."
+
+"You hop into bed and forget all about Altheas and Jerrys. Sleep is what
+you need," said Miss Judd, putting out the light.
+
+But the flow of Isabelle's talk was not to be stayed. She was excited
+and keyed up high. There was a simplicity and directness about this Judd
+woman that made her think of Mrs. Benjamin, so she told all about Hill
+Top and her life there, her love of it, her despair at Mrs. Benjamin's
+death.
+
+Jane Judd listened with patience and understanding. Here was laid out
+before her the bared heart of the "poor little rich girl." She pieced
+the bits together until she had the whole picture of this odd,
+unnatural, hothouse child--antagonistic to her parents, to her school,
+yet full of feeling, and coming into the age when the emotions play such
+havoc. No wonder she had settled her youthful affections upon Jerry. He
+was so preeminently the type one loves at sixteen, Jane smiled to
+herself.
+
+"Do you think he will marry me?"
+
+"I doubt it."
+
+"Don't you think he loves me?"
+
+"Lots of other women are in love with Mr. Paxton, too," said Jane.
+
+"You just say that to scare me!" cried Isabelle.
+
+So the self-revelation of this young egotist went on and on until sleep
+laid a finger on her lips.
+
+Long after she was silent the older woman lay awake, and thought about
+her, about the conditions in our world that produced her. She was so
+sorry for the child, even while she laughed at the memory of Jerry's
+furious embarrassment, at the mercy of her jejune affections.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jerry arrived early, and Jane and Isabelle parted like old friends.
+
+"Miss Judd is very understanding," remarked Isabelle, en route to the
+school.
+
+"Yes, isn't she?"
+
+"She's not at all snippy like so many people. It's ridiculous to act as
+if it were so clever just to be grown up. It isn't clever; it's only
+luck."
+
+"The luck lies in being young, Isabelle."
+
+"Can't you even _remember_ how you hated being squelched by elders?" she
+inquired.
+
+"Do they ever squelch you, Cricket?"
+
+"You ought to know. You've done enough of it."
+
+"Let's make a new compact. Let's be good pals," he said, heartily.
+
+"I do not want your _friendship_," she answered, coldly.
+
+"O good Lord, you wretched baby!"--irritably.
+
+"It is all right, Jerry. I see that it can never be, but I shall always
+care for you deeply," she said with nobility.
+
+When they came to the school Jerry left her with a deep sigh of relief.
+She certainly was too much for him. He was no longer surprised that Max
+and Wally avoided the problem.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+There certainly was no fatted calf killed for the return of the prodigal
+in Miss Vantine's school. At her reappearance an air of chastened
+endurance settled upon all the teachers from Miss Vantine down to the
+elocution teacher. But their fears were doomed to disappointment,
+because Isabelle was for the time being absorbed in her unrequited love
+affair.
+
+She walked through her lessons like one in a trance; she devoted all her
+leisure, and some of her study hours, to a series of daily letters to
+the object of her passion. Most of these raptures were never to meet his
+eye, but they furnished an outlet for the girl's over-full heart, and to
+the psychologist they would have proved interesting. To her schoolmates
+she was, as ever, an enigma.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Isabelle? Trying to get one hundred in
+deportment?" they teased her.
+
+"I have larger things to think of, than deportment," she answered,
+airily.
+
+"She's in love again," scoffed Margie Hunter.
+
+This was greeted with a deep sigh.
+
+"Who is he, Isabelle?" they demanded.
+
+"He is a great artist whose name is sacred to me."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Intimately."
+
+"And does he care for you?"
+
+"I cannot betray his confidence"--nobly.
+
+"Is he handsome?"
+
+"He is wonderful."
+
+"Not so handsome as Shelley Hull, or Jack Barrymore," they protested.
+
+"Oh, heaps handsomer!"
+
+"Do have him come here. Couldn't we ask Miss Vantine to get him to
+lecture on art?"
+
+"He hasn't time. He goes from function to function. Many women love him,
+he's a great social favourite," boasted Isabelle.
+
+This distinction set her apart as never before. She went among them as
+one baptized with greatness. When in the course of their daily walks
+with a teacher, they encountered a personable young man, Isabelle's eyes
+would never swerve in his direction. When there were midnight spreads,
+Isabelle did not care for food, or she had her letter to write.
+
+"Isabelle, will you marry him as soon as you graduate from here?" Margie
+inquired.
+
+"Oh, no. I expect to spend years at work in the arts before I am worthy
+of him."
+
+"What arts?"
+
+"It is not decided. I may paint, or sing, or act."
+
+"But you haven't any talent for painting or singing."
+
+"You never can tell, Margie. I've had no chance ta show what I can do.
+Besides, I _can_ act."
+
+"I think you're too plain to go on the stage, myself," was the
+withering reply, but it did not wither Isabelle.
+
+"Beauty, my dear, is nothing; Art is everything," was her unassailable
+reply.
+
+So upon the wings of romance Isabelle floated through the spring term.
+She was to spend the summer at an inn in the mountains, as The Beeches
+was not to be opened. Her parents and teachers, encouraged by three
+months of good behaviour, believed that a permanent change of heart had
+taken place in the girl. On the day of her departure, Miss Vantine
+congratulated her upon her improvement, and alluded to the coming year
+as the crown of her achievements. Isabelle smiled politely, for she had
+thoroughly decided in her own mind that this was her farewell to school.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER TWENTY
+
+
+If Max and Wally had ever shown one grain of intelligence in regard to
+Isabelle they never would have taken her to this big, fashionable
+mountain inn where her field of adventure was so greatly enlarged. But
+they never had shown any discrimination in regard to her, so nothing
+could be expected of them at this stage.
+
+Isabelle was a marked figure wherever she went now. She had forcibly
+taken over the matter of her own wardrobe in the spring of this year.
+Max had never made a success of it because she never gave any study to
+the girl's points; she dismissed her as plain, and bought her things
+with indifference.
+
+Now Isabelle had a flair for the odd, and she understood her own
+limitations and her own style. She was small, and slim as a reed,
+without being bony. She had what she called "hair-coloured" hair, and an
+odd face--wide between the eyes, but a perfect oval in shape. Her eyes
+were her only beauty.
+
+Fluffy, young-girl clothes merely accentuated her lack of youthful
+prettiness. With unerring instinct as a child, she had chosen her riding
+clothes to show off in. Now these same clothes formed the basis of her
+system. By day she was always in tailored frocks of the strictest
+simplicity. They were linen, or silk, or wool, made after the same
+model. Slim, tight skirt; slim, fitted coat; sailor hat, and strange
+boots, which she had made to order after her own design. They were like
+short riding boots, pulled on and crumpled over the instep like a glove.
+She was striking, _chic_, a personality.
+
+"By Jove! Isabelle gets herself up smartly, Max," commented Wally, soon
+after their arrival at the inn. Their daughter walked toward them, with
+every eye on the long piazza following in her wake.
+
+"It is too _outree_, but it is effective. She knows everybody looks at
+her, she intends they shall, but look how the monkey carries it off,"
+laughed Max, struck into a sort of admiration.
+
+"What's doing with you to-day, my noble parents?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. What are _you_ doing?" Wally answered.
+
+"I'm going to ride. I can't stand this clack-clatter," she said,
+indicating the groups on the veranda. "Dull lot, don't you think?"
+
+"Have you met any one yet?" inquired her mother.
+
+"Don't have to. I know what they are by just looking at them."
+
+"L'enfant prodige!" jeered Max.
+
+A tall, very fine-looking man in riding togs passed them, with a swift
+look at Isabelle.
+
+"That's Cartel, isn't it?" Wally asked.
+
+"The actor man?" said Max, looking after him.
+
+"Actor-manager he calls himself now. Good-looking brute, isn't he?"
+answered Wally, idly.
+
+Isabelle seemed oblivious to the whole incident but privately she
+marked Sidney Cartel as her own. She went off, shortly, to change.
+
+"Why don't you ride with her, Wally? She oughtn't to go off around these
+mountains alone."
+
+"Too hot. She can take care of herself."
+
+"Which way did Mr. Cartel go?" Isabelle inquired of the stable groom who
+mounted her.
+
+"Sunrise Trail, Miss," he answered.
+
+Isabelle started off for Sunrise Trail, with the directness of purpose
+which marked all her actions. It was some time before she caught sight
+of him, and to her annoyance she saw he was with a party of friends.
+Whenever the trail permitted he rode beside a certain woman--leaning
+toward her with marked devotion. Isabelle brought up the rear of the
+procession. The others became aware of her, evidently commented on her.
+Mr. Cartel looked back frequently.
+
+When Isabelle came to a place wide enough to turn she retraced her
+steps. She went back to the inn determined to discover who Mr. Cartel's
+special companion was. The groom furnished it, for a price:
+
+"Mrs. Andrews was with him, Miss. She mostly is."
+
+Saturday night was the weekly hop, the most festive occasion of the
+week. Max had given Isabelle orders that she could not sit up for
+dances, as she was still a schoolgirl. The girl made no protest.
+
+"Hops don't interest me," she said, indifferently.
+
+After dinner she took a few turns on the piazza with Wally before she
+went to bed. She wore an odd, white crepe frock, which hung very close.
+Her hair was bound round her head like a cap.
+
+"Let's sneak in and have the first dance together," said Wally; "Max has
+a beau."
+
+"All right; then I'll skip," agreed Isabelle.
+
+With the first strains of music they swung into a waltz. They danced
+well, and enjoyed it.
+
+"Go to bed," ordered Max as she passed them.
+
+Isabelle saw Mr. Cartel idly glance in, then at sight of her he came to
+the door and watched them.
+
+"Some dance, Miss Bryce. Much obliged. Sorry you have to leave us," said
+Wally as the dance was over.
+
+Cartel strolled off down the hall, and a few seconds later she followed
+him. She saw him saunter into one of the many little rooms used for
+cards, or tea. She noticed it was not lighted and, on the impulse of the
+moment, she stepped in after him.
+
+In a second she was caught and lifted in strong arms. She was kissed
+again and again, while he said laughingly:
+
+"You little devil, you came after all."
+
+"I wonder who you are," said Isabelle sweetly, "and who you think I am."
+
+"Thunder!" said Mr. Cartel, holding her off, and trying to peer at her.
+
+"There must be some mistake," Isabelle suggested. "I will ask you to
+stand just where you are, until I have time to get into the elevator.
+That will save us both any embarrassment."
+
+"But I don't understand," he mumbled. "I do beg your pardon, I
+thought----"
+
+"Give me three minutes; and I rely on you not to peep into the hall,"
+she said, with a chuckle. And was gone, leaving the actor-manager more
+at a loss than such events usually found him.
+
+Now whether Mr. Cartel peeped or not, the next day he recalled a
+previous meeting with Wally, and asked to be presented to his daughter.
+
+"Haven't we met before, Miss Bryce?" he asked, giving her a very special
+look.
+
+"No," she replied, with the faintest suspicion of a taunt in her tone.
+
+"I was under the impression that we had."
+
+"I'm sure I couldn't forget."
+
+"Are you enjoying yourself here?"
+
+"Not especially."
+
+"What do you enjoy, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"Excitement."
+
+"Couldn't we find you some?"
+
+"You might," with the slightest accent on the pronoun.
+
+"Let's try," he countered.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+From that moment he devoted himself to the "little Bryce girl." He rode
+with her, walked with her, talked with her, roared with amusement over
+her _diablerie_, until all tongues clacked about it. Mrs. Andrews left,
+in a huff.
+
+"You've got to stop it, Wally," Max ordered. "Every one is talking."
+
+"How can I stop it? You never should have brought her here."
+
+"Well, I'm not going to leave because she makes a fool of herself, so
+you can just take a hand."
+
+About this time a group of enthusiasts decided to get up an entertainment.
+With fear and trembling they asked the great actor to take part.
+
+"How would you like to act a play with me, Cricket?" he asked her, in
+the tone of a god condescending to mortal.
+
+"It would amuse me," she replied.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"This to the great Cartel!" said he, modestly. "Do you know that the
+finest actresses in America esteem it a privilege to act with me?"
+
+She grinned.
+
+"There are women in this hotel who would give their eyes for the
+chance," he added.
+
+"I need my eyes for seeing my way about," she drawled.
+
+Well as she managed him she was greatly excited at the prospect of
+acting with him. She had a dreadful row with Max and Wally on the
+subject, but she won out, and the announcement was made that the great
+man would put on a Shaw playlet, assisted by the "little Bryce girl."
+
+There followed days of rehearsal and preparation, during which Mr.
+Cartel tried to impress his amateur leading lady, and succeeded not at
+all.
+
+"That's not the way to do it!" he thundered at her repeatedly.
+
+"All right. But that's the way _I_ have to do it. If I'm going to be
+this woman, I have to be her _my_ way, not yours."
+
+So the impudent little baggage faced him out, on his own ground; and he
+was forced to admit to himself that, crude as she was, she managed
+effects.
+
+"You might be able to act some day," he said to her on an occasion.
+
+"Give me a job, and let me try."
+
+"You mean it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But your parents?"
+
+"They'd howl--and give in. They always do."
+
+"H'm--well, we'll see."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The great night came. Needless to say that the Shaw playlet and the
+brilliant Cartel were the events of the occasion. Isabelle was by no means
+obliterated in his shadow. She made a very considerable impression. There
+was a sort of fire about her. Her lines were read, not recited; and Shaw
+is the acid test for the amateur. The performance received an ovation.
+
+"You were quite interesting," Cartel said, sparingly--inspecting her
+with half-closed, speculative eyes.
+
+"Do I get my job?" she inquired.
+
+Later, he spoke to her parents about her talent.
+
+"For goodness' sake, don't tell her," urged her mother.
+
+"You wouldn't let me take her for a season?" he inquired.
+
+"I should say not!" replied Mrs. Bryce, with emphasis.
+
+The fuss that was made over the girl was enough to turn her head
+completely.
+
+"We've got to take her away, that's all," said Wally, a day or two
+later.
+
+"Where?" inquired Max, irritated to brevity.
+
+"I don't know. She gets into trouble wherever she goes. We might open
+The Beeches."
+
+"Well, we won't."
+
+In the meantime Isabelle asked Cartel daily about a job in his company.
+
+"Nothing doing without your parents' consent."
+
+"If I make them consent, do I get it?"
+
+"Possibly; but they won't," he teased her.
+
+"You don't know me," she warned him.
+
+The end of August came, and with it the great man's departure, for
+rehearsals in town. Isabelle was desolated. Her god, her idol, was
+leaving her behind, and only because of those eternal drawbacks--her
+parents. She said her farewell to him demurely, and echoed his hope that
+they would meet soon in town.
+
+"You've made my summer for me, little witch," he said, in an aside.
+
+[Illustration: _"You've made my summer for me, little witch," Cartel
+said_]
+
+He left. There passed three days of utter misery and boredom. Wally went
+to New York on business, and refused to take her along; Max was cross;
+the devil of revolt entered Isabelle.
+
+She wired Cartel:
+
+    Terrible row. Disinherited by parents. Will apply at theatre
+    to-morrow, at ten, for promised job.
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+She sneaked two dress-suit cases on to the hotel baggage 'bus, and she
+took a morning train to New York. Arrived there she wired Max:
+
+    Am going on stage. Useless to try to stop me. Am determined on a
+    career.
+                                                               ISABELLE.
+
+Max received this message at tea time, as she sat with a group of merry
+idlers on the piazza. She read it--frowned. With an exclamation of
+annoyance she summoned a boy, and wrote as follows to Wally:
+
+    Isabelle has joined Cartel. Catch her and bring her back.
+                                                                    MAX.
+
+"Is anything wrong, dear Max?" inquired her best beau, noting her
+expression.
+
+"Yes," she replied, "but it's chronic in our family!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
+
+
+Isabelle went directly to their town house and demanded a bed of the
+caretaker, who was an old family servant. At ten in the morning she
+presented herself at the stage door of the New York Theatre, and sent in
+a card to Mr. Cartel. Word came out that he had not arrived. She was not
+permitted to go in, and to her great indignation she had to march up and
+down the alley for an hour until the great one came.
+
+At sight of him she felt that all her troubles were at an end. She
+hurried forward with a confident smile, as he stepped from his motor. No
+gleam of delight at the sight of her overspread his features, however.
+He saw her; he bowed.
+
+"Ah--I got your message," he said, absently. "I don't think that there
+is anything for you."
+
+"There's got to be something for me," said Isabelle with promptness and
+vigour. "You let me desert my family for a career, and you've got to
+help me."
+
+"But, my dear girl, I urged you not to break with your family, you
+know."
+
+"It's too late to talk about that. Here I am. Now, what are you going to
+do about it?"
+
+"Well, come in," he said, curtly; and they went into the theatre.
+
+It was Isabelle's first view of the hindside of the mysteries. It was a
+hot day, and rehearsal was in progress. A group of people sat listlessly
+about the stage, on kitchen chairs, while a man in a neglige shirt and
+no coat urged them to get a little "pep" into the scene "for the love of
+God!" Cartel's arrival caused a ripple. All the actors sat up, as if
+electrified. The stage manager advanced at once to speak with him. He
+glanced at Isabelle, but Cartel made no move to introduce them. In fact
+he seemed to have forgotten about her. He issued brief orders, asked a
+few questions, turned to go. Then, as if on an afterthought, he added:
+
+"By the way, Jenkins, this is Miss Isabelle Bryce. Try her out in the
+maid's part, will you?"
+
+Mr. Jenkins nodded to Isabelle, who was furious at her hero for this
+casual treatment of her career.
+
+"Come over here," ordered Jenkins, indicating a chair and offering her a
+script. "Read 'Mary,'" he added, briefly, and went on with the
+rehearsal.
+
+Isabelle was dazed. It was so different from her idea of it. She had
+supposed Cartel would introduce her to the company and the manager as a
+genius he had discovered this summer. She thought she would be made much
+of, as his protegee. Instead of which she was set upon a kitchen chair,
+like a strange kitten, and told to read "Mary." Nobody paid any
+attention to her. They did not even look at her. They went on,
+indifferently, reading their parts, moving here and there on orders from
+Jenkins. Suddenly her name was rapped out:
+
+"Your cue, Miss Bryce."
+
+She fumbled her script, blushed furiously, found the place, and read
+stupidly, beginning with the cue.
+
+" . . . Where is she? Mrs. Horton telephoned she would be here at five,
+sir."
+
+"Well, get up," ordered Jenkins, testily. "You enter R., upper door.
+Come front and answer Horton, who stands L. C. Then you exit L., up
+stage."
+
+They all looked at her now. She felt their impatience, their supercilious
+smiles. She knew she was that leper in the theatre--an amateur. She did
+not know what Jenkins was talking about with his down R's, and his up L's.
+He entered as Mary and showed her the business. She caught the idea at
+once, and he grunted something which might have been approval or a curse.
+The rest of the time she spent in fevered attention to the script, looking
+for the signal, "Mary," but it came no more in that act. They went all
+over it again, and she managed it without a hitch. Then they were
+dismissed until two o'clock, and every one hurried off for lunch.
+
+Isabelle waited, thinking that of course Cartel would ask her to lunch
+with him. But there were no signs of him. She inquired where his office
+was, and ascended the stairs with the intention of expressing her
+dissatisfaction with her part. She stopped outside the door at the sound
+of voices--Cartel's and Wally's. She went in.
+
+"Well!" exploded her father, "so there you are!"
+
+"Good morning, Wally. Max wired you?"
+
+"She did. You will come home with me at once."
+
+"There is no need of our boring Mr. Cartel with our family rows," she
+said, sweetly. "I have no intention of going anywhere with you. I've
+decided upon a stage career, and I'm rehearsing with Mr. Cartel now."
+
+The manager stifled a smile.
+
+"You're not of age, young woman, and you can be _made_ to do things!"
+said Wally.
+
+"Take it to law, you mean? Jail and all that? Public announcement that
+you and Max can't manage me? Stupid, Wally, very stupid."
+
+"You're not through with your education. It will be time enough to
+decide on a career when you finish school."
+
+"I have finished school. That I am determined upon. You may as well face
+it, Wally. I am on the stage, and I intend to stay on it."
+
+"Look here, Bryce, take a word of advice from me. I meet this every day.
+Girls get this germ, and my experience is that it's better to let the
+disease run its course. If you force her to go back to school, she has a
+grievance for life. If she goes back of her own accord, she's cured."
+
+"It's ridiculous! We'd be the laughing stock of the town!"
+
+"Oh, no; it happens in the best families. Believe me, it is not such bad
+training for young women who have never been disciplined--like your
+daughter. She'll get it, in this business. She'll learn to obey orders
+and to respect authority."
+
+"But she's struck on herself now, and if she goes on the stage----"
+
+"Don't bother; we'll take that out of her," remarked Cartel.
+
+Wally looked from Isabelle's set face to the manager's smiling one.
+
+"What is your idea?" he asked.
+
+"Let her try it. Let her live at home. Send her back and forth in your
+car; protect her, of course. But let her have her fling; it won't take
+long," said Cartel, with a wise nod at Wally.
+
+"Try it, Wally, just give me a chance," cried the near actress.
+
+"Your mother will raise the roof!" he began.
+
+"She'll come round, if you back me up."
+
+"I don't know," he said, miserably.
+
+Isabelle flew at him and hugged him wildly.
+
+"Oh, Wally, you're a dear," she cried, thus committing him to partnership.
+
+"We needn't treat Cartel to our family reconciliations," he said.
+
+"Come take me to lunch, then. I have to be back at two. That isn't much
+of a part," she added to Cartel.
+
+"No? Well, we all must begin, you know. That is the first blow to young
+ladies of your proclivities."
+
+He rose, and bowed them out, as sign of dismissal. Wally and Isabelle
+went to lunch, and it took them so long to work out their plans--where
+Isabelle was to stay at present, how the matter was to be presented to
+Max, and such weighty subjects--that Isabelle was late to rehearsal, and
+was sharply reprimanded.
+
+She felt this to be very unjust as her line did not come for a long
+time. At the end of a long, tedious day, she went home to dine in lonely
+state with the caretaker as cook, and to crawl into bed immediately
+thereafter.
+
+Wally managed the situation very well. He made Max see the futility of
+fighting their child; he assured her that Cartel promised that the
+seizure would be brief. He looked up old Miss Watts, and engaged her to
+act as companion to the girl, accompanying her to all rehearsals. They
+were to live in a suite of rooms, opened for them in the house, with the
+caretaker providing their meals.
+
+It was all satisfactory to Isabelle. She remembered Miss Watts with
+pleasure, and she proved an unobjectionable companion. She took a book
+and read during rehearsals. She seemed interested in Isabelle's future.
+
+The career was not exciting so far. The first real event was the day
+Cartel came to rehearsal. Everybody was on tiptoe with excitement. The
+stupid, mumbling thing they called the play suddenly took shape, and
+point, and brilliancy. It infuriated Isabelle that her only chance lay
+in a vagrant, unimportant line here and there, when she knew she could
+play the lead, Mrs. Horton, with a dash and distinction totally lacking
+in the performance of the actress who was to play it.
+
+She told Cartel so, on one of the infrequent occasions when she saw him
+to talk to. He laughed.
+
+"The nerve of you kids!" he said. "You think the Lord has made you an
+actress, don't you? All you need is a chance at a leading part, in order
+to startle New York!"
+
+Isabelle tried to reply, but he swept on.
+
+"This is an Art; you want to desecrate a great, important Art! It takes
+long years of preparation, hard labour, infinite patience, aching
+disappointment; it takes brain, and passion, and intelligence to make an
+actor. Now where do you come in?"
+
+"Well, but you thought this summer----"
+
+"I thought you were a clever little girl doing a sleight-of-hand
+performance," was his crushing answer.
+
+"But----"
+
+"Can you dance? Can you fence? Can you run? Is your body as mobile and
+lithe as an animal's? Do you breathe properly? Can you sing? Is your
+voice a cultivated instrument with an octave and a half of tones, or
+have you five tones at your command? Do you know how to fill a theatre
+with a whisper? Can you carry your body with distinction? Can you sit
+and rise with grace? Is your speech perfect?" He hurled the questions at
+her.
+
+"No," she admitted.
+
+"Then you don't know the a-b-c's of this art. When you can say 'yes' to
+all these questions, then you are ready to begin, and not until then.
+Mind you--to _begin_!"
+
+"But everybody on the stage cannot say 'yes' to all those things."
+
+"No, worse luck! Because soft-hearted fools like me permit crude little
+girls like you to speak a line without any excuse for so doing. We'll
+have no great acting in America until we shut the door upon every boy
+and girl who thinks he can act, by the grace of God."
+
+With this finale, the great man walked away, leaving Isabelle feeling
+very young and very flat. But she rallied presently. Of course, he had
+exaggerated it. It might be that the majority of people had to go that
+long, hard road of preparation, but always there would be some who would
+leap to the top without the ladder. In her deepest, secret heart she
+knew herself to be of that few.
+
+She took up the subject again that very night, after dinner, with Miss
+Watts.
+
+"What do you think is the most necessary thing for success, Miss Watts?"
+
+"Work."
+
+"But in something like the stage, I mean."
+
+"It doesn't make any difference what it is, true success is the result
+of hard work and nothing else," that lady persisted, bromidically
+enough.
+
+"Don't you think it is ever an accident?"
+
+"If it is, it's the worst accident that can happen to you."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because then you have to live up to something you haven't earned. You
+don't know what to do, and in most cases you slump back into mediocrity."
+
+"But there must be some people who don't grind----"
+
+"Geniuses, maybe; but they usually do."
+
+"How do you suppose geniuses recognize themselves?"
+
+"They don't, in most cases."
+
+"But if you felt that you had a great gift, that you were going to do
+wonderful things, mightn't it be that you were a genius?"
+
+"I should say that it meant that you were merely young," smiled Miss
+Watts.
+
+Isabelle decided that doubtless all geniuses met with this lack of
+recognition in those about them. She pinned her faith to herself! In
+spite of Cartel and Miss Watts--who, after all, were _old_--she rather
+thought that on the opening night, when she spoke her lines, few as they
+were, the critics would say simply, in large-type headlines:
+
+"CARTEL HAS FOUND A GENIUS!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
+
+
+October came, dragged by, with the opening night of the play coming
+nearer. Wally induced Max to come to town and open the house. It was a
+cold autumn and nearly all of their friends returned early, too.
+
+"I had hoped that nobody would be in town when this idiot child of ours
+makes her ridiculous debut, but now everybody on earth is home. Even the
+weather favours Isabelle's plans," complained Max to her spouse.
+
+"No one need know about it, if we can keep it out of the papers."
+
+"Yes, IF!"
+
+"Better make the best of it. Ask a lot of people to dinner, take all the
+boxes, and make a joke of it."
+
+"Isabelle may make a joke of us," commented her mother.
+
+"She gets away with things," Wally encouraged her.
+
+As for Isabelle, she was bored to the point of despair with her career.
+Day in, day out, she said her stupid lines. If she varied one inflection
+from yesterday's inflection she was reprimanded by Jenkins. Mary and her
+lines were as standardized as Webster's Dictionary, and no original
+turns were to be permitted. Cartel continued distant, every inch a star,
+wrapped in his greatness. The other members of the company paid scant
+attention to her, so she made no friends.
+
+It was all very dull and mechanical. The play started off and ground
+itself through as automatically as a machine. Jenkins ruled like the
+boss of the shop. There was no room for genius.
+
+Just to help herself endure the tedium of eternal rehearsal, Isabelle
+invented an absorbing game. She rewrote the play, in innumerable ways,
+with the plot revolving around Mary as the central figure. Mary was now
+the friend and adviser of Mrs. Horton, now the trusted confidante of Mr.
+Horton. But whichever she was, she was a noble, sublimated creature--no
+possible relation to Mary, the automatic servant. She had long,
+beautiful speeches, interesting and unusual stage business; she wore a
+striking maid's costume, designed by Isabelle. This Mary managed to keep
+Isabelle's imagination awake during the weary weeks in which the other
+Mary walked on and off, with her "Yes, Mrs. Horton," and her "No, Mr.
+Horton."
+
+Suddenly a Sunday Supplement blossomed out with a full-page drawing of
+Isabelle, and the announcement of her coming debut on the stage, in Sidney
+Cartel's new production to open on such-and-such a date. Thereafter every
+paper in town blared forth the news of this event. There were full columns
+of talk about the Bryces, their money, their position, Mrs. Bryce's
+beauty, Isabelle's eccentricities. The originality and daring of their
+only child were dwelt upon at great length.
+
+The performance with Cartel at the mountain inn was described. The
+hungry public was told how Cartel had seen her genius at a glance and
+persuaded her parents to let him have the training of her talent.
+Isabelle was snapshotted leaving the theatre, or riding in the Park. She
+was not safe a moment from reporters and camera men.
+
+There was unanimous disapproval of this state of affairs on the part of
+her parents and her manager. It was difficult to tell which was the
+angrier. The Bryces accused Isabelle, but for once she was innocent. She
+had no idea how the reports started. She had talked to nobody. Miss
+Watts corroborated this statement. Neither of them knew when the artist
+made the sketch of her, and they never supposed that the photographers
+were taking her picture.
+
+Cartel was furious. It was not in his plans at all to let this youngster
+take the middle of his stage on the occasion of his New York opening. He
+would have dismissed her at once, had the newspaper talk not gone so
+far. As it was he joined her parents heartily in a determined effort to
+shut them off. But it couldn't be done. Isabelle had caught the public
+eye; she was a marked personality, and editors played her up big.
+
+Secretly she triumphed. It was only the beginning in the inevitable
+recognition of her greatness. It strengthened her belief that she was of
+the elect, and she rarely ever thought of the "Mary" part with which she
+was actually to prove herself, but she hurled herself into the
+development of the other Mary, which should have been hers, by all the
+laws of right. The two creatures merged--were one. Once or twice at
+rehearsal, aroused by her cue from some wonderful scene where Mary held
+the spotlight, she faltered for a second for those barren lines of the
+real Mary.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Miss Bryce? Keep your mind on what you're
+doing," warned Jenkins.
+
+She smiled at him. Poor fool! In a few weeks he would be bragging that
+he stage-managed her first appearance. She could afford to be patient
+with his bad temper, now.
+
+Dress rehearsal was called and became a fevered memory. The day of the
+opening Isabelle spent quietly at home, except for a ride in the Park.
+She was to rest, and have her supper in her sitting room. Wally came in,
+in the midst of her repast, and fussed about her room.
+
+"Aren't you nervous?" he inquired.
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"I am. I'm so nervous I could scream!" he exploded. "I hate all this
+notoriety. They say the house will be packed."
+
+"We always like a full house," she said, serenely.
+
+"Suppose you flunk it!"
+
+"But I won't!"--promptly.
+
+He looked at her uncomprehendingly.
+
+"If you could only be kept in a cage, in the cellar!"
+
+She laughed gaily at that.
+
+"Poor old Wally! Don't fret. You'll be very proud of me some day."
+
+Max floated in.
+
+"I thought I heard laughter."
+
+"You did," Isabelle replied.
+
+"Are you cool enough to laugh?"
+
+"Quite. Wally is the only nervous one. Who is coming to dinner, Max?"
+
+"Eighteen people. Christiansen for one."
+
+"Oh, good!"
+
+"When do you go to the theatre?"
+
+"Seven."
+
+"Come along, Wally, she ought to rest. For all our sakes, Isabelle, keep
+your head and don't make a fool of yourself."
+
+"Much obliged," said Isabelle. "I take it you are wishing me luck."
+
+Wally kissed her cheek, and they went out.
+
+"Poor dears," mused Isabelle, "it will be hard for them to accommodate
+themselves to my importance."
+
+Then she gave herself up to dreams of triumph until it was time to go.
+There was excitement in the air at the theatre. Voices were high, and
+eyes were bright. She was greeted loudly from open doors, as she went to
+her dressing room. Since the papers had boomed her, her position in the
+company had changed. Every one was dressed early and little knots of
+people discussed the big house, the critics, the chances of success for
+the play. It was a "strong" play, and, so far, the season had offered
+only trifles. It was too soon to know yet what the public appetite
+craved.
+
+"You got to change its meat. When it's fed up on crooks, ye got to give
+it sex; when it turns against that, ye got to try comedy. _My_ opinion
+is, this is a comedy season," said the gentleman who played the
+butler--a part even more inconspicuous than Isabelle's. They all
+inquired the state of her pulse, and marvelled at her calm.
+
+"She'll be a hit, or she'll be rotten," was the butler gentleman's
+comment.
+
+"She can't do much in that maid's part."
+
+"_Can't_ she? Remember the time they tried to bury Ethel Barrymore in a
+maid's part, when she was a kid? Took the show right away from John
+Drew!" said the authority.
+
+Finally the curtain was up, and the play was on. Isabelle's initial
+appearance was late in the first act, when Cartel was building carefully
+the foundations of plot for the subsequent superstructure. Isabelle
+entered with a visitor's card in the middle of an important speech by
+Cartel. She had one line. To his intense fury, at sight of her the house
+burst into applause, and he had to halt his oration until she disappeared.
+
+The play was a domestic drama, with the popular old-fashioned man, wed
+to the popular-new-fashioned woman who wants to "live her life." In the
+first act, the husband's point of view and character are expounded and
+contrasted with the woman's.
+
+In a daring second act, the husband--on the casual invitation of an
+acquaintance to come along to a supper party in a certain man's
+rooms--finds his own wife acting as hostess. After the modern manner he
+breaks no furniture, makes no scene; but in tense tones, aside, he
+demands an explanation from her. She promises him an interview at their
+home, the following day, at five. He refuses to wait; she insists. He
+leaves. Events follow rapidly. The host has a stroke of apoplexy and
+dies. A muddle-headed guest summons a police ambulance instead of a
+hospital one. Police arrive, murder is suspected, every one is arrested.
+There is a strong finale, with hints of astounding revelations to
+come--in act three, of course.
+
+The third act opens with a very tense atmosphere. Horton (Cartel), the
+husband--unaware that his wife is under arrest, suspected of murder--comes
+to his home, from the club, where he has spent a sleepless night. It is
+nearly five o'clock, the hour of the interview. Business of excitement,
+pacing, looking at watch. He rings for Mary, who enters.
+
+"Where is Mrs. Horton, Mary?" he asks.
+
+"Mrs. Horton telephoned she would be here at five o'clock, sir," answers
+Mary, who, according to the playwright, then goes out. But Mary did not
+exit.
+
+"She hasn't been home all night, sir," she added suddenly, unexpectedly,
+"and it may be that she is in some trouble."
+
+Cartel turned a fierce frown upon her.
+
+"That will do, Mary," he said, threateningly.
+
+Mary threw herself at his feet.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Horton, don't be hard on her! She may have been misled by this
+man; but at heart she is a good woman--I could swear it."
+
+Cartel was shaking with fury. He leaned over and grasped the prostrate
+Mary by the arm, so hard that he nearly cracked her bones. "Ouch!" she
+cried, "you're hurting me."
+
+The audience slowly grasped the fact that this scene was a surprise to
+Cartel. It was so still you could have heard a sigh. Mary resisted any
+attempt to get her on her feet, and this side of carrying her off Cartel
+was helpless.
+
+"If you'd only make a confidante of me, Mr. Horton, I could be a help to
+you in your hour of need," she cried passionately.
+
+"Get out!" hissed Cartel, _sotto voce_.
+
+"It looks as if she committed that murder, but I have facts to prove
+that she did not."
+
+The rest of the act was devoted to breaking the news of the murder to
+Horton. In one fell line this demon had demolished the play. The
+audience began to titter, to laugh, to roar! Cartel dragged Isabelle to
+the door, and literally flung her forth. But at the expression on her
+face the audience actually shouted with delight, they applauded
+deafeningly.
+
+Cartel acted quickly. He went up stage, turned his back, and looked out
+of a prop. window, for what seemed a lifetime, till the hysterics out in
+front subsided. Finally it was still enough for him to take up the scene
+again. But at the dramatic entrance of his wife, fresh from a night in
+jail, they were off again. Cartel glared at them, and in a shamefaced
+sort of way, they subsided, and the play creaked on, as dead as last
+year's news.
+
+Mary had a later entrance, which Cartel cut, but it necessitated the
+mention of her name, whereupon the monster mirth was loosed again.
+
+Finally the curtain descended upon the tragedy. Mrs. Horton went into
+hysterics, and Mr. Horton, bathed in sweat, went to look for Isabelle.
+
+The company stood about in frightened groups, but he did not see them.
+He threw open her door without so much as a knock upon it, and he
+shouted so you could have heard him in Harlem.
+
+"You little beast! You--you hell-cat! What d'ye mean by spoiling my
+scene like that?"
+
+"Oh, I am so sorry," said Isabelle, "I didn't mean to do it, but I got
+the two Marys all mixed up."
+
+"You're crazy--you're a mad woman! What do you think this will mean to
+me? It means failure--complete failure! I never could get through the
+scene again. It means thousands of dollars, that's what it means.
+Because I let a stage-struck fool like you speak a line! Talk about
+gratitude! You turn and ruin me!"
+
+"But I didn't know----"
+
+"Don't pull that baby stuff!" he shrieked. "You _did_ know. You
+_intended_ to do it all the time. You're so crazy about yourself, that
+you'd murder your own mother to get the spotlight! Get out of here!
+Don't you ever let me see your face again! Don't you ever step in this
+theatre, you dirty spy! Take her away! Take her away!" he raved, now
+entirely beside himself.
+
+Isabelle for once was dumb. Poor, terrified Miss Watts seized her by the
+arm, and dragged her out the stage door, and down the alley.
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
+
+
+Isabelle walked Miss Watts for miles. She would not answer questions,
+nor discuss the events leading up to Cartel's outburst.
+
+"Of course, he isn't a gentleman," was her only remark during the entire
+walk. Poor Miss Watts was utterly in the dark over the whole situation.
+She was sitting quietly in the dressing room, reading the _Atlantic
+Monthly_, under the impression that the play was going nicely, when the
+terrible outbreak of Cartel occurred. One thing she grasped, and that
+was that the girl was suffering, so she let her alone and trudged along
+beside her, as well as she could.
+
+Suddenly Isabelle called a taxi, and ordered the driver to hurry them
+home.
+
+"I won't see the Wallys to-night," she said, as they reached the house.
+"If they're home, you tell them whatever you like."
+
+But the Bryces were not in yet, so Matthews told them. Isabelle rushed
+upstairs, and went to bed, with a brief good-night to Miss Watts. An
+hour later Max snapped on the light in Isabelle's room, and evidently
+spoke to Wally.
+
+"The little beast is asleep!" she said. "Did you ever hear anything
+equal to that?"
+
+Isabelle heard him laugh; the light was turned off, and her parents
+went on their way. They never had any part in her crises. They thought
+this terrible, wracking fiasco was funny! She covered her ears to shut
+out the hideous wild laughing of that audience. She could never forget
+it as long as she lived--that gust of laughter, as if the solid earth
+had begun to rock and roll.
+
+She tried to think back to the beginning of the disaster, but it was all
+hazy in her mind--a chaos of lights, people, applause, excitement--a
+mixture of the role she was playing and the one she had made up for
+herself. She could not remember when it was that she began on the wrong
+Mary.
+
+She viewed the ruins of her hopes, lying all about her. She heard Cartel's
+shrieks of rage, and that awful laughing! It was terrible--terrible! And
+nobody would understand. There was nothing for her to do, but die.
+
+She thought back to another time when she had wanted to die, and dear
+Mrs. Benjamin had comforted her. If only she were here now she would
+understand, and help her to face her disgrace. What was she to do? How
+could she live it down? She must hide somewhere. Maybe she ought to
+disappear in the morning, before her parents were awake. That would let
+her out of the much-dreaded interview with them. So with this idea in
+her mind, she fell into troubled sleep, at dawn.
+
+When she woke, it was to broad daylight, and the presence of her father
+and mother.
+
+"Oh!" sighed Isabelle, as her eyes fell on them.
+
+"You've been asleep all day," said her mother. "We thought maybe you'd
+taken something."
+
+"Taken something?"
+
+"Drug, or something."
+
+"Is it late?"
+
+"Four o'clock in the afternoon."
+
+"Oh, and I intended to get away early this morning."
+
+"Get away where?" inquired Wally.
+
+"Anywhere out of sight"--desperately.
+
+He sat on the edge of her bed.
+
+"Look here, kid, just what did happen?"
+
+"You'll never understand, and I'm not going to talk about it," she said,
+sullenly.
+
+"You needn't take that tone," said her mother, sharply. "You've made an
+utter fool of yourself, and of us, too."
+
+"Now, Max, let her alone to-day," Wally protested.
+
+"It's always 'Let her do it her own way,' with you. You backed her up in
+this foolishness. We've had all the publicity I intend to have through
+Isabelle. She will go back to school, and stay in retirement, until we
+are ready to bring her out," said Mrs. Bryce, firmly.
+
+"All I say is that to-morrow is soon enough to take it up with her. The
+kid's had a bad fall, and she needs to get together."
+
+"Yes, she has! She comes home and goes to sleep for sixteen hours, while
+we read the newspapers."
+
+"Newspapers?"
+
+"Column after column of what you did to Cartel's opening. If he doesn't
+sue Wally for a fat sum, I miss my guess."
+
+"What did they say?"
+
+"You can read them for yourself. I intend that you shall. If there is
+any way to cure your conceit, I'd like to see it done," Mrs. Bryce
+continued.
+
+"Plenty of time later," urged Wally, distressed at his daughter's white,
+tragic face. "Did Cartel say anything to you last night?"
+
+Isabelle nodded.
+
+"Dismissed you?"
+
+Again she inclined her head.
+
+"I should hope so," laughed Max, shortly. "Paper says he has gone to
+Atlantic City with a nervous collapse."
+
+"And the play?" Isabelle said.
+
+"Closed. That's what you did. Must have endeared yourself to the
+company."
+
+With a groan, Isabelle turned her face to the wall, and Wally dragged
+Max out of the room.
+
+Later Miss Watts came in to offer tea. The girl refused it, but she
+begged her companion to bring her all the morning papers.
+
+"Wait until to-morrow, my dear," Miss Watts begged, alarmed at the
+change in her.
+
+"No. I want to get it over."
+
+So the papers were brought.
+
+After propping her up on pillows and seeing that she was bodily
+comfortable at least, Miss Watts withdrew. Isabelle began at the beginning
+and read every word about that unhappy opening. The articles were written
+with a jocularity hard to bear. Most of them had graduated out of the
+regular dramatic review columns on to the first page. "HILARIOUS OPENING
+AT THE NEW YORK THEATRE!" "CARTEL'S FIND!" "IMPROMPTU ARTIST MAKES BOW."
+These were some of the captions.
+
+They all developed the story for what it was worth: Cartel's discovery
+of Isabelle at the inn; a few paragraphs about her family; mention of
+the wonderful publicity provided for her; a description of the brilliant
+first-night audience, with the Bryces' distinguished guests in all the
+boxes; Isabelle's reception as the maid. Then followed the plot of the
+play, up to the awful moment when Cartel's "discovery" forgot her lines
+and began to improvise. They painted the star's astonishment and
+subsequent fury. They added speculation as to the real climax of the
+evening which must have taken place back on the stage after the dropping
+of the final curtain. Every article made you hear the uncontrollable
+laughter of the audience.
+
+Isabelle agonized over each one. She raged at the opinion of one
+dramatic critic who said that no doubt Cartel would release Miss Bryce
+on the morrow, but that a dozen managers would step forward to capture a
+young woman of such marked personality, and such a talent for publicity.
+
+Max was right; they were all ruined. She had made the whole family
+ridiculous. She wasn't surprised that Max hated her for it. She deserved
+anything from them now. She lay in bed for several days, scarcely
+touching food, brooding upon her disgrace until she was really ill.
+
+Wally hovered about her, deeply concerned, but not knowing how to
+comfort her. He kept Max out of the room as much as he could. Finally he
+sent for a doctor.
+
+"Perfectly unnecessary," said his wife. "She isn't sick. She's made a
+fool of herself and lost the middle of the stage, so now she goes on a
+hunger strike to work up a little sympathy."
+
+"The kid is suffering, I tell you. She is all broken up over this. I
+think we ought to take her away somewhere."
+
+"You can count me out. I've been dragged home to open this house for her
+convenience. I'm not going off to some empty resort place because she
+needs a change."
+
+The doctor had a talk with Isabelle, told her to cheer up, gave her a
+tonic, agreed with Wally that she needed a change, and went on his way.
+
+Martin Christiansen asked Max about Isabelle and was informed that she
+had the sulks. He asked permission to see her, and he was the first
+visitor admitted to her room. He was shocked at the change in her. She
+was thin, and haggard, and old. Her eyes hurt him. She was sitting up,
+in a big chair, wearing a bizarre Chinese coat, all orange and black and
+gold. She looked any age, an exotic little creature. The hand she
+offered was thin as a bird's claw.
+
+"I've been thinking that you might understand," she said to him, before
+he could speak.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+He drew a chair beside hers and waited.
+
+"You didn't think I forgot my lines, did you?"
+
+"It wasn't like you."
+
+"I didn't. I was bored at rehearsals, and so I made up a wonderful
+Mary-part for myself, a noble character whom every one trusted."
+
+Her eyes were upon his face, and he nodded slowly, hoping that his
+amusement did not leak through his expression.
+
+"Every day, all those hours, I used to be this made-up Mary, and just
+toward the last I got a little wobbly as to which Mary was which," she
+admitted.
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"I knew you would see that. Well, the night of the opening I was so
+excited that I mixed them all up."
+
+She said this with such tragic emphasis that he did not even want to
+laugh.
+
+"How unfortunate!" he exclaimed.
+
+"No, it wasn't unfortunate," she cried; "it was stupid, stupid, stupid!"
+
+"Yes, it was, a trifle," he admitted.
+
+"I thought I was going to be such a success. I just knew I could act.
+Cartel said it would take me years of hard work even to begin to be an
+artist, and I thought I could just show him."
+
+"I think you may be said to have shown him!" Christiansen remarked.
+
+"Yes, I did. I showed him I was a fool. I don't wonder that he nearly
+killed me for it."
+
+"No doubt it was real agony for a man as highly strung as he is. For
+months he had been building a fine house, and in three blows you sent it
+crumbling."
+
+"Oh, don't!" groaned Isabelle.
+
+"I didn't come to reproach you. I came to help. I want to be sure that
+we both understand that you have been to blame in this affair. That
+settled, we'll go on to the next step."
+
+"There isn't any next step. I've disgraced us all."
+
+"Oh, come, it isn't so bad as that. You have given a great many people a
+good laugh, and no doubt they are very grateful to you for it. Now, do
+you want to go on with the stage?--really to study the fine art of
+acting?"
+
+"No! _no! NO!_"
+
+"What are your plans?"
+
+"I haven't any."
+
+"You cannot spend the rest of your life in this room, my child."
+
+"I'd like to."
+
+"There's always something to be made of our tragedies, Isabelle. The
+first thing is to get yourself well again. You're all eyes. It won't do.
+You must go away and get together, and when you come back we will have a
+talk about your work. I'm sure you have talent of some sort, if we can
+just direct it properly."
+
+"I'll never believe in myself again."
+
+He laughed and patted her hand.
+
+"Europe is out of the question. How about Bermuda? Ever been there?"
+
+"No"--indifferently.
+
+"Just the place. Lots doing. Soldiers recuperating, people to watch,
+people to play with. Fine place for you. I'll suggest it to your
+parents."
+
+He rose and took her two small hands.
+
+"You promise me to get well, and to come back your old vivid self?"
+
+"I'll try. You _are_ a comfort. You helped that other time, too, when
+the guillotine nearly broke Tommy Page's neck."
+
+He threw back his head and laughed so heartily at the memory, that she
+laughed too.
+
+"I've always been rather ridiculous, haven't I?" she asked him.
+
+"My child, that is an elderly remark," he said, and he left her--on the
+whole, cheered.
+
+He promptly made his suggestion to the Bryces. It was discussed pro and
+con and then finally it was decided to ship the girl off, in Miss
+Watts's care, for it was evident that she was making herself ill with
+the humiliation of her failure.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+So, one day in November Wally saw them off.
+
+"You look like a Brownie," he said, as he kissed Isabelle good-bye. "For
+goodness' sake, get some flesh on your bones."
+
+"Don't worry, old thing," she answered. "I'll come back fat, and
+chastened in spirit."
+
+He grinned, and ran for the gangway, and stood waving and smiling as the
+steamer slipped from the pier.
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
+
+
+The two travellers settled themselves and took stock of the passengers
+in the casual way of those who go down to the sea in ships. Miss Watts
+was prepared to have Isabelle throw herself into the activities of the
+brief voyage, in order that she might forget her troubles. She did just
+the opposite. She lay in her chair, reading or contemplating the sea;
+she marched the deck in absent-minded solitude. Miss Watts was the only
+person she spoke to, or permitted to speak to her.
+
+But her odd face, her unusual clothes, and her great _hauteur_ marked
+her at once in the eyes of the idlers who sat on deck and gossiped. She
+was soon identified as the heroine of the Cartel opening. Speculation
+and much interest followed her.
+
+The second day out the chair to the right of Isabelle was occupied for
+the first time. A cursory glance was enough to assure her of the
+following facts: he was handsome "as an army with banners"; he wore an
+English officer's uniform; and he was very pale. She decided to have
+another look in a moment.
+
+She settled herself comfortably--aware that his eyes were upon her--and
+opened her book, with an air of great detachment. Miss Watts was not on
+deck at the moment. It was some time before she got another chance to
+look at him unobserved. She saw that he had crinkly hair and a
+ridiculous little moustache, twisted at the tips. He had his eyes
+closed. He certainly was white, but one strong, lean, brown hand lay on
+his lap, giving her a feeling of relaxed power. His eyes opened
+unexpectedly, and she had to return to her book in haste. His eyes were
+very blue and she thought there was a smile in them.
+
+Miss Watts's arrival interrupted this interchange, if it was an
+interchange. But in a few minutes another officer came to chat with the
+invalid.
+
+"Hello, Larry, old man, how are ye?" he inquired.
+
+"I'm fairly fit to-day, thanks."
+
+"Glad you can be on deck."
+
+"Rather. I thought I'd croak in that hole of a stateroom."
+
+"Lot of people aboard we know. Mrs. Darlington, for one. Remember her in
+London?"
+
+"Rather."
+
+"She's dying to see 'dear old Larry.' Sit tight, she's on her way now,"
+he added, in a lower voice.
+
+Isabelle permitted herself a look. A tall, handsome woman was coming
+down the deck, with a swaying sort of walk that was fascinating. She was
+very smartly turned out. A rather fat man, with prominent eyes,
+accompanied her. They stopped beside Larry's chair, and she exclaimed
+enthusiastically:
+
+"How are you, old dear? They would not let me into your stateroom, or I
+should have been holding your hand, and giving Mrs. Grundy a treat."
+
+"Larry" got to his feet and accomplished a gallant bow.
+
+"Awf'lly good of ye," he said, smiling, holding her hand in his.
+
+"You know Monty Haven, don't you? Captain Larry O'Leary, Monty, and
+Major O'Dell."
+
+So his name was Larry O'Leary, mused Isabelle. She liked its softness on
+the tongue.
+
+"Does your wound trouble you, you brave thing?" Mrs. Darlington purred.
+
+"Oh, no. Coming all right. It's nothing."
+
+"Nothing? Do you know what this wonderful creature did, under fire and
+all, Monty?" she demanded.
+
+"O kind and beautiful lady, spare me blushes. I'm after being Irish and
+susceptible to flattery," he cried.
+
+"Larry, you old heart-breaker, don't look at me in that wistful Celtic
+way," she commanded.
+
+"Mrs. Darlington, dear, ye may as well resign yersilf to bein' looked
+at," he retorted.
+
+"It is good to hear your blarney and your brogue, Larry. By the way, old
+Mrs. Van Dyke is aboard and demands a sight of you."
+
+"Does she now? Come along and let's pay our respects to the old lady."
+
+She put her hand through his arm, and they sauntered off, with the other
+two men in their wake.
+
+"Handsome woman, wasn't she?" Miss Watts remarked.
+
+"No. I don't like that type. She struck me as _bold_."
+
+Captain Larry O'Leary was the spoiled and petted darling of the boat.
+The tale of his gallant action under fire, of his wounds, of his
+decoration for valour, was passed from mouth to mouth, and lost nothing
+in the retelling.
+
+The men liked him because he was a simple, modest chap, in spite of it
+all. The women followed him around like a cloud of gnats. He jollied
+them all from old Madam Van Dyke, who was seventy, to the smallest girl
+child on the boat.
+
+He looked like a hero out of a fairy book. He had a rollicking,
+contagious laugh, and a courteous heart toward every one. At the ship
+concert for the benefit of wounded soldiers, he sang the songs of the
+trenches, and the marching songs of the Irish troops, the English and
+the French, in a clear baritone voice. There is no hope of disguising
+the fact that Larry O'Leary was too good to be true. Like the star in
+the melodrama, he was 99 per cent. hero.
+
+His only rival for the centre of the stage on the brief voyage was
+Isabelle. At first she kept to herself, because she was ill, and wanted
+to be alone. But after a bit she grasped the fact that her aloofness was
+a sensation, and she was not too ill to enjoy that. Her perambulations
+about the deck were watched with undiminished interest. Everybody knew
+everybody else. There were dances, and games and knitting contests, but
+to all invitations Isabelle replied in the negative.
+
+"Why don't you talk to some of these people, Isabelle? They seem very
+pleasant," Miss Watts said.
+
+"Oh," sighed the girl, "they bore me."
+
+Captain O'Leary had made several attempts to get an opening to speak to
+her in the afternoon, but she had successfully evaded them. Mrs.
+Darlington in search of the bonny Captain spoke to her.
+
+"Your handsome neighbour isn't on deck?"
+
+"Isn't he?" said Isabelle. "I hadn't noticed."
+
+Mrs. Darlington stared, laughed, retreated and the story went the
+rounds. It amused O'Leary, and it also piqued him. He was used to being
+noticed by ladies in his vicinity. He made up his mind that he would
+make that girl look at him. He intended to lay siege to Miss Watts, but
+he came upon Isabelle unattended, in deep contemplation of the sea, and
+he promptly sat down beside her.
+
+"I beg pardon, Miss Bryce, but are you Irish?" he said deliberately.
+
+She turned big, enquiring eyes upon him.
+
+"No. Why?"
+
+"I thought nobody could be as sad as you look except an Irishman."
+
+"I'm not Irish," she said, and returned her gaze to the sea.
+
+"I am," he exclaimed.
+
+No answer.
+
+"We're very sensitive to--to rebuffs."
+
+"I suppose so. You were shot in a rebuff, weren't you?" she said,
+politely.
+
+His laugh rang out at that.
+
+"Yes, but we're not so sensitive to a rebuff from guns as we are to a
+rebuff from ladies."
+
+"No?"
+
+"Have ye taken an unconquerable dislike to me, Miss Bryce?" he begged.
+
+"I think you're very--pleasant," admitted Isabelle.
+
+"Couldn't ye take a lesson from me?"
+
+"You think I'm unpleasant?"
+
+"I think your heart is as hard as the rocks in Flodden Field," he
+exclaimed.
+
+"Being pleasant hasn't anything to do with your heart," was her calm
+reply.
+
+"Hasn't it? Ye think I can be as pleasant as I am, and still have a
+hard, black heart?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"So you don't like me?" he persisted.
+
+"Yes, rather. But I'm a little tired of heroes just now," was her reply.
+
+"I'm afraid I don't qualify," he said curtly, "but as a possible
+nuisance I'll take mesilf off."
+
+He rose. He stopped behind her chair and leaned over her to say:
+
+"That rebuff, ye spoke of, in France. After all, it was an amateur
+affair, as rebuffs go."
+
+With which he marched off down the deck, his head very high in the air.
+Miss Watts sat down beside Isabelle with a quick glance at her.
+
+"Weren't you talking to Captain O'Leary?"
+
+"He talked to me."
+
+"Isn't he charming? All the women are so excited about him."
+
+"That's what's the matter with him."
+
+"Is he conceited?"
+
+"Fearfully!" quoth Isabelle.
+
+She went over that interview dozens of times. Of course he would never
+look at her again. She remembered how Mrs. Darlington purred over
+him--how Madam Van Dyke patted him. That was the way to make him like
+you, but she had scratched and spit at him, like an angry kitten. She
+couldn't imagine why she had acted like that. She admired him immensely.
+He was more attractive than Jerry Paxton or Sidney Cartel or any man she
+had ever loved, and yet--she had deliberately made him hate her. Well,
+anyhow, she liked the idea of her heart being as hard as the rocks in
+Flodden Field. It had an important sound. He could never say that to the
+gushing Mrs. Darlington, or any of the other women who ran around after
+him.
+
+So she closed the chapter of their acquaintance on the boat, but she
+worked out a scene or two at Bermuda, including an aeroplane flight in
+which he and she were lost in the clouds. On the whole she preferred the
+things she made up to the things that happened.
+
+As they neared the Islands the weather grew warmer. White clothes
+appeared on deck. Captain O'Leary appeared in an undress uniform that
+caused a flutter in feminine hearts. The night of the day of her
+encounter with her hero was stuffy and very hot.
+
+Isabelle was restless and wakeful. She tossed and turned and tried to
+banish all thoughts of the Irishman, but it was no use. She leaned out
+of her upper berth to gaze down upon the sleeping features of Miss
+Watts.
+
+"How wonderful to be so old that you don't care about handsome
+Irishmen!" mused Isabelle.
+
+A few minutes later she decided that, unless she had some air, she
+would perish. She made a most careful descent from her perch, without
+waking her companion. She opened the door cautiously, and put her head
+out. It was a trifle cooler in the passageway. Her watch reported three
+o'clock. There would be no one awake at that hour.
+
+She put on her slippers, and the tight little orange-and-black Chinese
+cloak. She left the door open, and went into the corridor. She walked up
+and down, up and down, trying to believe that she was cooler. It was
+rather spooky! Several stateroom doors stood open, and the sound of
+sleepers--breathing evenly, or snoring--came to her as she passed.
+
+Finally she turned in at her own door, slipped off the Chinese coat, and
+laid it across the chair. She moved very quietly not to disturb Miss
+Watts. She put her foot on the extreme edge of the lower berth to mount,
+when the boat rolled and threw her off her balance. To save herself from
+falling, she put out her hand; it descended upon the upturned face--it
+should have been the face of Miss Watts, but it was not. Her hand fell
+upon a moustache! With one bound Isabelle was out of the door, into the
+passageway, and into the next open door.
+
+"Miss Watts!" she gasped.
+
+"Yes, what is it?"--sleepily.
+
+"Oh, nothing. I went out to get a breath of air. I left the door open,
+but I wasn't just sure----"
+
+She was climbing up into her berth during this explanation. Suddenly a
+hideous thought caused her to collapse on the edge of her bed--she had
+left her Chinese coat behind!
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
+
+
+The day after the loss of her Chinese coat was the last day at sea. They
+were to land sometime in the morning. When she woke from her troubled
+dreams, Isabelle's thought was that she would stay in her stateroom
+until it was time to disembark. She could not decide whether to tell
+Miss Watts the story of her mistake and ask her advice, or whether it
+was sufficiently disgraceful to be kept a secret.
+
+She reviewed it for the thousandth time,--the open doors, all alike, the
+entrance into the wrong one, her leisurely disposal of her coat, and
+then her hand planted firmly in the middle of that strange face--that
+moustached face! Could he have seen her and recognized her in the moment
+she stood before him? It was dark in the room, except for a dim light
+from the corridor. Was there anything about the coat which could
+identify her? Should she give the stewardess twenty-five dollars and
+tell her to get it, and answer no questions? But how would she explain
+its being in that room? It was simple enough to her, how it got there,
+but you never could tell how other people would take a thing. She
+decided to let the coat remain, and tell no one of the incident.
+
+But granted that there was no way for the man to identify her, why need
+she hide? It was a beautiful warm day and the cabin was stuffy. No, she
+would go forth and count the number of men aboard who wore moustaches.
+
+_He wore one!!!_
+
+It flashed into her mind in italics! Captain Larry O'Leary wore one!
+Suppose . . . ! She blushed at the thought, and began hurriedly to
+dress. Miss Watts had already gone forth for a promenade before
+breakfast. Arrayed in one of her white linen suits and a close boyish
+white hat, Isabelle fared forth to join her companion. But half way down
+the deck, she hesitated, for her companion was already companioned. None
+other than the gallant Captain O'Leary strode the deck by her side.
+Before Isabelle could flee, they turned suddenly and saw her. They came
+toward her. Two feet from where she stood, the Captain halted, bowed,
+said audibly:
+
+"Thus far, and no farther, Miss Watts. Here lies the safety line." He
+indicated an imaginary line with an immaculate boot.
+
+Miss Watts looked her surprise.
+
+"You know Captain O'Leary, Isabelle? Surely I saw you talking. Miss
+Bryce, Captain O'Leary."
+
+He bowed gravely.
+
+"Miss Bryce," he said, formally.
+
+"Captain O'Leary," she replied, looking intently at his moustache.
+
+He passed his hand over his face slowly with inquiry in his eyes.
+
+"I beg your pardon," mumbled Isabelle, blushing.
+
+"I know. I remind ye of somebody. I always remind everybody of
+somebody," he added, with his pleasant suggestion of brogue.
+
+Isabelle seized upon the opportunity.
+
+"You do, rather. Isn't he like Patsy Reilly, the gardener's boy at The
+Beeches, Miss Watts?"
+
+"Why no!" exploded Miss Watts. "Certainly not."
+
+The Captain laughed.
+
+"I told ye so. Mine is the universal physiognomy! Stuffy night, wasn't
+it?" he added, changing the subject abruptly.
+
+Isabelle glanced at him quickly.
+
+"I didn't find it so," she said. "Coming to breakfast, Miss Watts?"
+
+"Yes. Walk round the deck with us once, as an appetizer?"
+
+"No, thanks. I'm famished."
+
+"Miss Bryce would rather devour an Irishman as an appetizer before
+breakfast. 'Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Irishman'."
+
+"I'd prefer an Englishman, or a German!" retorted Isabelle, as she
+nodded and led the way to breakfast.
+
+She pondered his remark about the stuffy night with a fluttering heart.
+Did he know? Did he suspect her? She watched men with moustaches, and
+tried to listen to their conversation. There were a good many English
+officers aboard with the regulation hirsute adornment of the upper lip.
+True to our custom of following English fashions, more than half the
+American men aboard had diminutive twisted affairs on the upper lip.
+There was no use trying to identify "the man" by the moustache. She
+listened for conversation verging upon the Far East--incidentally
+Chinese embroideries--but in vain.
+
+She watched her chance when no one was about, to consult the ship
+register to see what men were in that corridor. She discovered five
+English officers were in that tier. In short they arrived, and
+disembarked without Isabelle finding a single clue to the gentleman who
+had her treasured coat.
+
+Captain O'Leary was civil about their baggage, and getting them a
+vehicle to go to the hotel.
+
+"Are ye sure that ye have everything that belongs to ye?" he inquired,
+his eyes on Isabelle.
+
+What did he mean? Did he mean anything except what he said?
+
+"Yes, thanks," replied Miss Watts. "So glad you are staying at our
+hotel. We'll see you later," she added, and they rode off, leaving him
+smiling after them, bare-headed in the sunlight.
+
+"Most charming man I ever met!" exclaimed Miss Watts.
+
+"Umm-m," said Isabelle.
+
+It was like a miracle to step out on to the terrace of the hotel, after
+dinner that night. To have left New York on a cold, raw fall day, and in
+two days to find oneself in this warm, odorous night air. The band
+played, and white-clad figures walked, danced, sat in groups over
+coffee. Everywhere relaxed, happy, laughing people.
+
+It was not the season on the island but so many English officers came to
+recuperate here, so many Americans, shut out of Europe, came down from
+New York for a week or so, that it was unusually gay.
+
+Mrs. Darlington and Captain O'Leary were dancing when Miss Watts and
+Isabelle entered the large gallery at the edge of the platform. Mrs.
+Darlington was regal in evening dress, and the pair attracted much
+attention as they danced. The Captain bowed as he passed and evidently
+spoke to his partner about them, for she glanced back at them. She
+shrugged her shoulders, and he led her in their direction.
+
+"Lovely night, isn't it? Mrs. Darlington, Miss Watts and Miss Bryce," he
+said.
+
+"I tried to meet Miss Bryce on the boat, but she snubbed me," laughed
+Mrs. Darlington, making Isabelle feel very young and crude.
+
+Isabelle frowned and made no denial, so Captain O'Leary remarked:
+
+"Do you disdain the dance, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Would you honour me?"
+
+Isabelle glanced at Miss Watts, who looked uncomfortable.
+
+"Isabelle is not out yet. Her mother wishes her to be inconspicuous
+here," she began.
+
+"Imagine Isabelle inconspicuous," laughed Mrs. Darlington again.
+
+Isabelle decided that she hated her!
+
+"But it's different out here--it's not a ball room, ye know. It's just
+dancin' round," said the Irishman.
+
+"Yes, that's true. Oh, I think it would be all right," agreed Miss
+Watts, unable to deny him the moon, if he asked for it.
+
+"The next then, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"Thank you," she said.
+
+He went away with his partner, who was decidedly bored with the
+conversation.
+
+"Surly little thing," she remarked, audibly.
+
+"She is certainly a beautiful woman," Miss Watts remarked, looking after
+them.
+
+"Beautiful? Oh, yes, if you like a vamp."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"Vampire; you see them in movies."
+
+"Isabelle!" protested the older woman.
+
+They strolled about, drank in the rich tropical perfume of the night, and
+looked off to where the sea lay--huge, mysterious, and musical--lipping
+the beach. There was a moon and the stars hung low and yellow in a deep
+blue velvet sky.
+
+The band swung into a waltz, and the dancers began to revolve.
+Isabelle's heart beat an extra tap or two. She saw Captain O'Leary's
+closely cropped head in the distance. He caught sight of her, and
+hurried toward them with that swinging, marching gait of his. He bowed
+and offered his arm. Isabelle took it in silence and they went to the
+dancing floor.
+
+She looked like a little girl in her straight white gown, and the top of
+her head came well below his shoulder. They glided off without a word.
+The Captain was an accomplished dancer, also he danced because he loved
+it. In the same way it was speech to Isabelle; it expressed her, it was
+a natural gift. They were like one person, moved by one will. Encore
+followed encore. Only once was a word exchanged between them; and then,
+as they waited for the music to begin again, she lifted shining eyes to
+his, and he leaned toward her quickly:
+
+"Ye little moonbeam!" he said, softly.
+
+Then they went on again. Time and space were not, for Isabelle. She was
+a part of elemental Nature--a part of sea and sky and deep bosomed
+tropical night. Even as Larry O'Leary had said, she was a child of the
+lady moon, a beam of her silver light.
+
+When, finally, it was over, they found Miss Watts waiting for them, a
+few steps away.
+
+"Here I am," she said, in her usual voice, as if the whole world had not
+changed its face. "You had a nice long dance, didn't you?"
+
+"Wonderful!" said the Irishman, in a voice that thrilled. "Now we're
+getting acquainted," he added, bending down to Isabelle. "I thank you,
+Miss Moonbeam," he whispered.
+
+Isabelle smiled at him. She had not said one word since he led her
+forth. She felt a little dizzy with everything. Speech was unnecessary.
+He left them, then, and Miss Watts smiled at her.
+
+"Did you enjoy it, Isabelle?" she asked pleasantly.
+
+"No!" flashed the girl, unexpectedly. "I am going to bed."
+
+"That's sensible. We will enjoy our sleep to-night in a real bed."
+
+But Isabelle was not thinking of sleep!
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
+
+
+The next morning floated in upon Isabelle's senses, warm and fragrant.
+She felt that this was to be one of the most important days of her life.
+She loved and she was loved at last! It never entered her head that
+there could be any doubt of Captain O'Leary's feelings for her. He had
+called her, tenderly, "little moonbeam," and in one long rapturous dance
+it had come to them that the meaning of life was love.
+
+She dressed in a daze of happiness, in the knowledge that presently she
+was to see him again. How would they meet? Where? What would the odious
+Darlington woman say when she knew that "the surly little thing" had
+captured her captain?
+
+She took great pains with her toilet, stared at herself long in the
+glass. She wished she were beautiful, like Mrs. Darlington, or Max. He
+deserved the most radiant creature in the world! How could he care for a
+plain mite like herself? _Did_ he?
+
+In a sudden collapse into deep depression she sought Miss Watts and
+hurried her downstairs. No signs of him in the breakfast room. Later she
+led Miss Watts up and down every veranda, but a complete survey of the
+grounds brought no results.
+
+"We ought not to exercise so violently right after breakfast, Isabelle.
+Let us sit down in the shade for a little."
+
+Isabelle agreed; it did not matter to her what they did just now, and
+these seats gave a view of every one who came out of the hotel.
+
+"What shall we do to-day?" inquired Miss Watts.
+
+"Oh--I don't know"--indifferently.
+
+Some people were coming out now. A tall woman, a girl, and a boy. The
+girl stared at Isabelle and then advanced.
+
+"Aren't you Isabelle Bryce?" she asked.
+
+"Why, Agnes Pollock!" exclaimed Isabelle.
+
+Introductions and explanations followed. The girls had known each other
+at Hill Top School. Agnes was convalescing from an appendicitis
+operation. She was with her mother and her brother, who greeted Isabelle
+cordially.
+
+"Heard a lot about you!" said Percy Pollock, who was a beautiful blond
+person, slightly older than the girls. "You were the terror at Hill Top,
+weren't you?"
+
+"I didn't have much chance. I was only there one year," laughed
+Isabelle.
+
+"I hope you'll wake up this dull isle," said he.
+
+"Dull?" cried Isabelle, blushing furiously at her tone.
+
+They all sat down together, in the aimless way of holiday makers, but
+Isabelle's eyes were ever on the door. Where was the man? Did he lie
+abed all morning? And such a morning!
+
+"Isabelle, let's go for a walk down the beach. I've such heaps to tell
+you about Hill Top."
+
+"Good idea," said Percy, promptly.
+
+"Not you. Just Isabelle and me. We want to talk."
+
+"I--think I won't this morning. I--I'd rather not," began Isabelle.
+
+Then she stopped short. He, the Son of the Morning, was coming forth.
+She scarcely noticed that Mrs. Darlington was with him. Her face was
+suddenly so radiant that the others turned to look. He saw them. Now he
+would come to her--show them how it was between them!
+
+But he did no such thing. He bowed, a trifle absently, and passed within
+a few feet of them--near enough for them to hear him say:
+
+"Paula, ever young and ever fair!"
+
+They also saw the ravishing look she threw him.
+
+"What a handsome man!" exclaimed Agnes.
+
+"Lady-killer, I bet you," jeered Percy.
+
+"Come on, Agnes, let's go for that walk on the beach," cried Isabelle.
+
+She started off almost before any one understood her purpose.
+
+"Hi there! are you trailing me behind?" called Percy.
+
+"No," said Isabelle, shortly.
+
+Agnes hurried after her, and when they had tramped the beach for a
+while, they sat down in the sand. Agnes remembered that Isabelle was
+"queer," but there was something passionate about the way she threw
+herself into their reminiscences, that struck her as unnecessary. They
+spoke of Mrs. Benjamin, with tears on Agnes's part. She told of Mr.
+Benjamin's pitiful efforts to go on with the school. He had been forced
+to give up the struggle, and Agnes lamented the necessity of going to a
+new school when she returned to New York.
+
+"Now tell me about you," she demanded. "Why are you out of school?"
+
+"I hated the school they sent me to last year, so this year I struck and
+went on the stage for a while."
+
+"Why, Isabelle Bryce!" cried her friend, thrilled to the bone.
+
+"But I didn't like it; it made me sick. So I, too came down here to get
+well."
+
+She evaded questions on the subject of her stage career, and after some
+desultory talk they went back to the hotel. People were strolling to the
+beach for the bathing hour.
+
+"Let's find Percy and go in," said Agnes.
+
+Isabelle, having agreed to meet them on the beach, hurried off to
+change. Miss Watts went down to the sea with her; she did not wait for
+Agnes and Percy. She struck out for the farther raft. There was one a
+hundred feet from shore, and one farther out, for expert swimmers. She
+had just passed the former when she became aware of some one in her
+wake, some one coming with speed. She slowed up a little.
+
+"What do ye mean by swimmin' off alone like this?" demanded a well-known
+voice. She made no answer, but she did not increase her speed. He came
+up beside her. "This is plain childish folly, that's what it is," he
+blustered.
+
+Isabelle rolled on her back and smiled faintly at the sky.
+
+"Ye ought to be spanked, ye little devil."
+
+"Some people are good at calling names," she remarked to the sky.
+
+"I'm tellin' ye it's dangerous for you to start off for that far raft
+alone."
+
+"Well, I'm asking you what business it is of yours?"
+
+"Do ye want me to stand by and see ye drown yerself?"
+
+"It's my privilege to drown myself if I like," she replied, as she
+struck off for the raft again. They swam to it in silence, and she
+pulled her slim satin body, like a shining eel, up onto the platform. He
+followed.
+
+"You're a very disturbin' young person!" he said, sternly.
+
+She lifted her eyebrows at him, with a baby stare. He looked away with a
+frown.
+
+"Where is 'Paula! ever young and ever fair'?" she inquired. "Is she
+displaying herself on the beach?"
+
+He grinned.
+
+"Not she. Paula is a very clever woman--she knows her own limitations,"
+he replied. "Hello! here comes somebody."
+
+It proved to be Major O'Dell, the man who had looked after Larry on
+shipboard. He glared at them and climbed aboard the raft.
+
+"Larry, ye fool, what do ye mean by takin' such a swim as this on yer
+first day?" he demanded, hotly.
+
+"I came to rescue this young mermaid," he answered.
+
+"It's damfoolishness--that's what it is. I beg yer pardon, Miss--Miss----"
+
+"Bryce" from Larry.
+
+"This man is here convalescing, and it is folly for him to over-exert
+himself in any such manner," he scolded her.
+
+"I didn't invite him to come," said she. "He forced his society on me.
+Now that you're here to tow him in, I'll leave him to you," she added;
+and with that she dived off.
+
+"Wait a minute. Major O'Dell wants to rest," cried the Captain.
+
+"Let him. Let him rest a month," came back the answer, as the shining
+head turned toward the distant shore.
+
+"I've got to go after her, O'Dell. It isn't safe," protested Larry.
+
+"Who appointed you her nurse?"
+
+"Damn it! man, the child might drown."
+
+He went overboard and started after Isabelle. O'Dell, with a
+far-from-pretty word, followed. In some such procession they finally
+arrived at the beach. Isabelle stepped forth, shook her slim black
+self, ran up the beach and back like a colt, and joined Miss Watts,
+sedate as a debutante. Captain O'Leary approached them.
+
+"Miss Watts," said he, "it is none of my affair, of course, but if you
+have any authority over this young woman, you will forbid her to swim
+alone to the farther raft."
+
+Isabelle grinned at him, but he frowned and walked away without another
+word.
+
+Isabelle spent the rest of the day near the hotel that she might be at
+hand if he came out, but there were no signs of him. Percy Pollock had
+introduced two boys, who urged the girls on all sorts of expeditions,
+but Isabelle was adamant. She could not bother with boys if there was
+any chance of another encounter.
+
+Major O'Dell came out on the terrace, saw her, and strolled over.
+
+"May I speak to you, Miss Bryce?"
+
+She joined him and they walked over to a seat by a wall.
+
+"I wish to apologize for being so short-tempered this morning," he
+began.
+
+"Yes, you were," she replied.
+
+"Captain O'Leary has been in bed since that junket you took him on this
+morning."
+
+"I didn't take him," said she, "he came."
+
+"He is in no condition to endure such a strain. I ask you not to let him
+do such a thing again."
+
+"I'm not his mother," she burst out. "He is old enough to take care of
+himself and I do not intend to act as his trained nurse."
+
+She looked--and sounded--so young that Major O'Dell laughed.
+
+"All right. I'll tell him. You were on our boat, weren't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you travel much, Miss Bryce?"
+
+"Oh, not much. Why?"
+
+"Have you ever been in the Far East?"
+
+She glanced at him quickly. He was twisting the ends of his little
+moustache and gazing off to sea. Heavens! was this the man? She had
+almost forgotten the Chinese coat in the emotions which had swept her
+since landing.
+
+"The Far East?" she managed to repeat with a semblance of indifference.
+
+"Yes, the Philippines, Japan, or China."
+
+"No, I've never been there."
+
+"Um. You should go. Full of treasures, jewels, embroideries, brocades--all
+the things that women like"--he continued, looking directly at her.
+
+"So?" queried Isabelle, obviously bored.
+
+"I'm afraid I am keeping you from your friends. So I'm to look elsewhere
+for a nurse for Captain O'Leary?"
+
+"Why don't you try Mrs. Darlington?" she inquired. Then with a nod, she
+went back to her playmates.
+
+An hour or so later a group of people, Mrs. Darlington among them, took
+a near-by table for tea. Major O'Dell and Captain O'Leary, the latter
+looking very white, came out and joined them. They did not look in her
+direction until she heard Mrs. Darlington remark:
+
+"Larry, just see what a collection of little boys your ugly duckling has
+made."
+
+At this they all looked. Isabelle glanced at her little boys, and said
+something that made them shout with laughter. But it was not so loud but
+that the wind carried her his reply:
+
+"She's not _my_ ugly duckling. She's a wicked little leprechaun, born
+under a mushroom, on a black night, but she swims like a fish, and
+dances like a pixie. I tell ye she's not human at all at all!"
+
+She heard their laughter, and her eyes smarted. What a fool he had made
+of her! How she despised herself. There was only one way to square it,
+to get back her self-respect. She would find out what a leprechaun
+meant, and she would bedevil the honourable Captain O'Leary, like the
+pixie that he named her!
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
+
+
+Bright-coloured days followed, like beads slipping along a thread.
+Isabelle did not formulate any plan of bedevilment for the Captain, but
+she watched for opportunities with lynx-eyed attention.
+
+She and Agnes were very intimate, and while Isabelle was not given to
+confidences, she allowed her friend to see that there was something
+between her and the handsome O'Leary--a sort of flirtatious feud. Agnes
+adored him from afar, and envied the other girl her power to attract
+him. She did not understand just what Isabelle wanted of him, but she
+stood ready to help her get it.
+
+Early in their friendship Agnes had fired Isabelle with a new zeal. She
+told her about the wonderful patriotic work to be done by writing
+letters to soldiers, who had no relatives, and to keep them cheered up.
+She, Agnes, had become _marraine_ to half a dozen Frenchmen; she
+considered them more exciting than plain English "Tommies" or American
+"Sammies." Besides, it was good practice for your French. You made them
+presents, sent cigarettes and candy, and they sent you back the most
+thrilling letters.
+
+Agnes displayed some of hers, in confidence, and at once Isabelle felt
+the call of duty to rescue a French soldier. She could not wait to go
+through with the formality of applying to the organization in charge of
+this work, for names of the letter-needy; instead, she borrowed two from
+Agnes. She chose the two who wrote the most picturesque letters and
+"adopted" them at once.
+
+Together they worked out her first letters, telling the gentlemen in
+question of the transfer of god-mothers. After much consideration she
+adopted the tone of maternal concern for their comfort and welfare, with
+a cheerful optimism intended to be elderly.
+
+"Jean" and "Edouard" were told of life in Bermuda; pictures (cut from
+society weeklies) of the island and the people there were enclosed for
+their entertainment. Cigarettes and candy were promised at once and the
+letters despatched with much excitement.
+
+The other patriotic offering which grew out of this beginning was the
+preparation of gift boxes for the soldiers. Not knitted things, but
+things intended to amuse them. The girls searched every gift shop and
+delighted in the discovery of some new trinket for "their sons."
+
+In the meantime an earnest contest for Isabelle's favour was going on
+between Percy and one of his friends, Jack Porter. She accepted their
+attentions indifferently, played with them when it was convenient, and
+disposed of them cruelly when it was not. She loved to dance and, as
+they both danced well, they were useful after dinner; unless, of course,
+Captain O'Leary danced with her more than once, which sometimes
+happened.
+
+Major O'Dell had shown signs of appreciating her talents since her brief
+encounter with him on the raft and later. She decided to cultivate him,
+and--eventually--to ask him for her Chinese coat.
+
+Major O'Dell asked her to take tea with him one day. Mrs. Darlington,
+and a Miss Devoe, who made eyes at O'Leary, were also his guests. The
+Captain, and the fat little man, named Monty Haven, who had been on the
+ship, were there.
+
+"I've captured a charming recruit," said the host as he presented
+Isabelle.
+
+"I didn't know that you could be captured, Miss Bryce," said Mrs.
+Darlington, insolently.
+
+"It takes the military!" retorted Isabelle.
+
+"That's right. Plain civilians haven't a chance with you girls any more,
+have we?" Haven asked Isabelle.
+
+"Not much," she agreed.
+
+"What could a nice fellow like me do to get into the running, Miss
+Bryce?"
+
+"Why don't you train down?" she answered, literally.
+
+"Oh, Miss Bryce! you're stepping on Haven's toes," laughed Captain
+O'Leary.
+
+"Am I?" she said, peering under the table.
+
+"The dear, ingenuous little thing," said Mrs. Darlington, tartly.
+
+She turned and deliberately engaged the men next her in an aside. She
+had no intention of letting this impertinent miss occupy the entire
+attention during tea.
+
+Captain O'Leary turned to the protection of Isabelle.
+
+"Haven't seen much of you lately," he began.
+
+"No?"
+
+"I see you are always followed by a retinue of boys. No chance for an
+old fellow like me."
+
+"The young ones _are_ more diverting."
+
+"Who is the blond Adonis, me chief rival?"
+
+"You refer to Percy?"
+
+"Percy? Am I to be cut out by a youth named Percy?" he cried.
+
+"You are--if you don't look out."
+
+"Never! What can I do to reinstate meself?"
+
+"You can't expect me to think up ways."
+
+"What does Percy do?"
+
+"Ask him."
+
+"Give me two dances to-night, and take a walk with me in the morning,"
+he demanded.
+
+"I make no promises. You will have to take your chances"--airily.
+
+Miss Devoe, on O'Leary's other side, said audibly:
+
+"Give her a spoon to play with, Larry, and pay some attention to me."
+
+Isabelle leaned across to her.
+
+"_I'm_ using him now," she said.
+
+"Do you know what Captain O'Leary calls you?" retorted Miss Devoe.
+
+"No"--with great interest.
+
+"A leprechaun."
+
+"It _sounds_ naughty," said Isabelle, turning reproachful eyes upon him;
+"_is_ it?"
+
+"Very," he admitted.
+
+"That is just his pet name for me. What does he call you?" she inquired
+of Miss Devoe.
+
+Miss Devoe ignored the rejoinder, by whispering to Larry. Isabelle
+turned to Major O'Dell.
+
+"You'd better talk to me about something. I don't seem to be a popular
+favourite."
+
+"Yours is the unforgivable sin."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Youth."
+
+"But they are much prettier than I am, every one of them."
+
+"I'll take your eyes and your tongue, thanks," he laughed. "Let's take a
+look at the sunset."
+
+They rose.
+
+"Where are ye going, you two?" inquired O'Leary.
+
+"Sunsetting," replied Isabelle.
+
+Then, turning to the ladies, she made a curtsey.
+
+"Good afternoon," said she.
+
+"Lord, that was wonderful!" exclaimed the Major.
+
+"What?"--innocently.
+
+"You know what, ye clever little rascal."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain O'Leary got only one of his dances that night, but he announced
+his intention of taking her to walk on the beach at ten the following
+morning. When, at that hour, he presented himself to Miss Watts, she
+looked distressed--thought Isabelle must have misunderstood, for she had
+gone off to walk with Percy Pollock.
+
+The Captain thanked her and set off in pursuit. He was annoyed at
+himself for being annoyed with this chit of a girl. But she should not
+play tricks with him! In due course of time he spied them ahead of him.
+He increased his speed and caught up.
+
+"Good morning," he said, briefly.
+
+"Oh, good morning, Captain O'Leary," said she.
+
+"Miss Watts gave me your message."
+
+"Message?"
+
+"That you would meet me here. By the way, Pollock, your mother asked me
+to say that something important came for ye in the morning mails. She
+wants ye at once."
+
+With a firm and masterly hand he detached Percy and sent him off. Then
+he turned to Isabelle.
+
+"Ye can play tricks on Percy and your other youngsters, but not on me."
+
+"I haven't the slightest interest in playing tricks on you," she
+answered. She sat down, opened a parasol, and planted it in the sand. He
+threw himself down beside her.
+
+"You are a very interesting little girl," he remarked, "but you have a
+great deal to learn."
+
+"Teach me!" she exclaimed, with such ingenuous enthusiasm that he was at
+a loss to know whether she was making fun of him or not.
+
+"I will. First, you mustn't be so pricklish."
+
+"It's the only way to protect yourself."
+
+"Against what?"
+
+"People."
+
+"Ye start on the basis that people are your enemies?"
+
+"I think they are."
+
+"Look here, tell me about yourself. What shall I call you? Do I have to
+say 'Miss Bryce'?"
+
+"My name is Isabelle."
+
+"Doesn't suit ye. Have ye no pet name?"
+
+"Somebody I liked once called me 'the cricket'."
+
+"That's it--Cricket--may I call ye that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now, Cricket, tell me all about yourself."
+
+She looked at him intently for a moment. He lay stretched out on the
+sand, his elbow crooked to support his head. He looked frankly back at
+her.
+
+"Go on, as friend to friend," he urged.
+
+And she did. She did not touch it up a bit. She made him see her life,
+her people, the Benjamins, her experience at Miss Vantine's--all--through
+the eyes of her youth, her wistful youth. She told him about Martin
+Christiansen; she even confessed the fearful catastrophe with Cartel;
+and she did not mind when he rolled on his back and sent gusts of
+laughter up to the clouds.
+
+"O ye delicious, crickety Cricket!" he groaned. "Go on."
+
+"There isn't any 'on'. That's up to now. Tell me about you."
+
+And he did. He told her about his people, his young life near Dublin.
+How he went to an English University, how he enlisted in the war. He
+told her about his life in the trenches, about his wounds, about his
+decoration. He talked as he had talked to no one else about the whole
+experience of war.
+
+She sat tense and still, concentrated on his every word. When he had
+finished, they sat in silence for several seconds.
+
+"And that's up to now, for me."
+
+"You've got to go back?--there?"
+
+"When I'm well again."
+
+Her tell-tale face registered her distress. He laid his hand over her
+little brown one.
+
+"Not for a while. I shall often think of this place and this day," he
+said, gazing off over the sea. "Ye're a comfortable cricket, when ye
+want to be. I'd like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!"
+
+[Illustration: _"Ye're a comfortable cricket, when ye want to be. I'd
+like to capture ye, to sing on my hearth!"_]
+
+She sprang up.
+
+"Well, I'm not ready to settle yet, so your hearth must go bare."
+
+"Like Mother Hubbard's cupboard! Where are ye hoppin' off to?"
+
+"Hotel, for lunch."
+
+"Is it time?"
+
+She nodded. He fell in step beside her.
+
+"Ye haven't missed Percy?"
+
+"I wonder what Percy's mother wanted with him," she evaded.
+
+"So does Percy's mother," he retorted.
+
+She looked up at him.
+
+"You didn't----?"
+
+"I did, Cricket; I jumped a longer jump than you did," he boasted.
+
+"Why, you old grasshopper!" she exploded.
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
+
+
+Miss Watts found Isabelle more reasonable, more amenable than ever
+before in their association, and as she had made some pleasant
+acquaintances, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She hoped their stay
+would be long. In her reports to the Bryces she conscientiously
+mentioned Isabelle's good behaviour and her improvement in health.
+
+She watched the career of her charge with interest and some concern. She
+saw with surprise that the girl had hit upon the only possible way of
+intriguing the interest of a spoiled darling like Captain O'Leary. She
+flitted like a will-o'-the-wisp before him.
+
+Larry thought that their talk on the beach had established a new
+relation, but he soon found that he could not rely on it. When she was
+particularly annoying he reminded her how sweet she had been that day,
+but all she could recall of it was that he had cut Percy out! If he
+ignored her completely, suddenly she was like a soft little rabbit in
+his hands, all heart-beat. She puzzled and annoyed him.
+
+These were busy days for Isabelle. Percy and Jack were always under
+foot. They furnished comic relief when her military intrigue threatened
+to become serious. Then her "god-son," Jean Jacques Petard, who was
+wounded and in a hospital, replied to her maternal solicitude with
+prolonged and passionate devotion. Isabelle shared the treasure with
+Agnes, who protested that none of her godsons wrote to her like that;
+and she asked to have Jean back. Isabelle stoutly refused. A gift was a
+gift. Agnes had given her Jean and she intended to keep him.
+
+"But you took my two best ones."
+
+"You gave me my choice, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes, and I was a silly to do it. I might have known you'd take the best
+ones"--hotly.
+
+"But you had letters from him. You say yourself he never wrote to you
+like that. It's _me_ he's writing to, not you."
+
+"Well, of all the conceited things!" cried Agnes.
+
+"I'm glad I am. I'll give you Edouard back, if you're going to make such
+a row."
+
+"I don't want him."
+
+"All right, that settles it. It wouldn't be fair to Jean to give him
+back to you."
+
+"Fair! Lots you care about fair."
+
+"Do you think it's fair to pass a soldier of France--one of our
+allies--back and forth between mothers, like a bean-bag?"
+
+"I have nothing more to say. I have found you out, Isabelle Bryce. I
+give to you generously, and you prove a false friend."
+
+Agnes walked away with her face flushed and her head high. It was too
+bad to be treated like this when you were doing your patriotic duty. She
+brooded on the matter for several days, avoiding her false friend, and
+then an idea of revenge took possession of her.
+
+Chance played into her hands at the moment, by putting into her lap a
+copy of a fashionable magazine. It had two pages of pictures of the
+idlers at Bermuda. An enlarged snapshot of Isabelle coming out of the
+sea, was featured with a brief biographic sketch of her meteoric career
+as actress, of her family, and her wealth. Agnes cut this out, enclosing
+it with an anonymous letter to Petard. She told of the miserable trick
+played upon him. Isabelle was only seventeen and a half, and in no way
+fit to be a god-mother to him. She was infatuated with him, and
+pretended to be old, so she would have an excuse to write him.
+
+This malicious mischief mailed and headed for France, Agnes felt better,
+and awaited results. She would make up with Isabelle in time to hear
+what Jean Jacques Petard would say now. She hoped he would denounce her
+as a traitor!
+
+So far as Isabelle was concerned, Agnes and her injured feelings were of
+no moment. It was a trifle awkward when Percy and Jack arranged a
+foursome, but by strict formality of intercourse, they managed the
+situation. The boys were soon aware of it, and found much amusement in
+urging the combatants to battle. Percy tried to pump Agnes as to the
+cause of the rupture, but nothing could unseal her lips on the secret.
+She could imagine what those boys would do if they knew the truth. So
+poor Agnes suffered in silence, nursed her secret triumph, and staged
+the moment of Isabelle's downfall.
+
+Major O'Dell, whom by this time Isabelle counted a friend, approached
+one day as she dallied with her two admirers.
+
+"I impersonate Mercury, bearing an invitation," he said.
+
+"I'll do anything with you, Major O'Dell, but I don't want to play with
+your crowd."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't like the women. They pick on me."
+
+"Larry and I will protect you."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+"I have the permission of the amiable Miss Watts. It is all arranged."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Monty Haven's yacht is at anchor and he wants you to come for a sail
+and lunch aboard."
+
+"Sorry. I'm engaged to-day with Percy."
+
+"May I add that a certain gentleman, not at the moment in your good
+graces, entreats you to come?"
+
+"Sorry. You wouldn't let me off, would you, Percy?"
+
+"No"--firmly.
+
+"Alas! This is final?" asked the Major.
+
+"Convey my thanks to Mr. Haven, please, dear Major O'Dell, and
+mention----"
+
+"'Percy'," he interrupted with a smile, and left.
+
+"What did you put it on me for?" complained Percy.
+
+"Come down on the beach and watch them go," ordered Isabelle, leading
+the way.
+
+They sat them down and watched preparations on the yacht. A motor boat
+came ashore and carried off the guests.
+
+"Now aren't you sorry?" said Percy.
+
+"Nope."
+
+The motor boat presently put off again--in their direction. It came as
+near shore as it dared, and stopped. Captain O'Leary stepped overboard
+into the shallow water, and advanced upon the puzzled three. He bowed,
+leaned over, picked up Miss Isabelle Bryce in his arms, and marched into
+the sea and toward the boat.
+
+"Hi there! what are you doing?" cried Percy.
+
+"Come and get me, you big idiots!" called Isabelle over O'Leary's
+shoulder.
+
+The two boys plunged in. O'Leary laughed and ran. He set her in the
+boat, jumped in himself, and they were off, leaving the two swains hip
+deep and helpless.
+
+Isabelle turned smouldering eyes on the Captain.
+
+"Cricket, my dear," said he, "I feel that there is an excess of Percy!"
+
+She blazed in silent fury.
+
+"Cricket, don't be cross. It was only a joke to tease your beaux. They
+were funny, standin' there in their neat white flannels, weren't they
+now?"
+
+No answer.
+
+They were received with a shout of delight from the boat. Haven met them
+at the rail and greeted Isabelle.
+
+"Larry, you win!" he shouted, and they all shook hands with the Captain
+and beat him on the back.
+
+"Win?" inquired Isabelle.
+
+"Major O'Dell bet Larry that he couldn't get you aboard and Larry took
+him."
+
+"Major O'Dell, that wasn't fair," cried Isabelle.
+
+They all stared at him, and she added with a chuckle:
+
+"It happened just as we planned it, didn't it?"
+
+"Did you put something up on me, O'Dell?" cried Larry. "Ye cheat--ye old
+pirate!"
+
+He fell upon him, and a rough-and-tumble inaugurated the party. When
+O'Dell found a chance he joined Isabelle.
+
+"You little witch!" he said. "Ye certainly made a booby of ole Larry.
+But don't you be coming between me and my best friend."
+
+"I won't if he keeps out of my way," she blazed, "but I'm mad!"
+
+"'Twas only a joke. We wanted ye to come. For my sake, be nice and
+funny, an' like yourself."
+
+"All right," she answered amiably. "But you owe me something, if I am."
+
+"Name it, and it's yours."
+
+"It's mine already. I want my Chinese coat back."
+
+He stared at her for a full second.
+
+"It is yours, then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I told him it was----"
+
+"Told _him_?"
+
+"It wasn't my room ye left it in."
+
+"No? How did you know, then?"--in alarm.
+
+"The man who found it asked every woman aboard and never thought of
+you, because--well--you're such a baby," he added, staring.
+
+"What's that got to do with it? I went out in the corridor to get some
+air, and I went in the wrong door, by mistake. I took off my coat, and
+started to climb up to my berth, when the boat joggled, and I put my
+hand on _a moustache_! I was so scared that I ran off without my coat."
+
+The Major began to laugh.
+
+"What's the joke?" inquired Larry, joining them.
+
+"It's a secret between Major O'Dell and me. On your sacred honour,
+Major, you won't tell," said Isabelle.
+
+"On my sacred honour."
+
+"Go away, O'Dell, and let me make my peace with the Cricket."
+
+"Major O'Dell, you will stay, if you please."
+
+True to her promise to O'Dell, she played up and kept them all amused,
+but she never so much as looked at Larry. Thoroughly annoyed, he devoted
+himself conspicuously to Mrs. Darlington and Miss Devoe. But he might
+have been in China for all the impression his flirtation made on
+Isabelle. They landed late in the afternoon, with the Bryce-O'Leary feud
+still on.
+
+Isabelle told the story of her capture to Miss Watts, but with that
+lady's perverted English sense of humour, she thought O'Leary's prank
+was funny. She knew that she ought to disapprove of it, but she only
+laughed.
+
+Isabelle went off to read a letter which she found awaiting her, from
+her god-son Jean. It proved rather a surprise. She read it twice. It was
+undeniably a love-letter. In it he told her--that he adored her in a
+great many ways and a great many times. He had known all along that she
+was not old, and now that he saw how young she was, how lovely . . . it
+went on and on. He wished to address her father at once, and ask her
+hand in marriage. He enclosed a photograph of himself; he was quite good
+looking. It was a thrilling letter, but it took her breath away. How
+could he know she was young and lovely?
+
+She answered it instantly, tearing up many sheets of paper in the
+process. She assured him that he was mistaken, that she was too old to
+think of marriage, even if she loved him--which she could not say she
+did, because she didn't know him. Her father was long since dead, so he
+could not address him, etc., etc. In short, unless he could think of her
+as his devoted _marraine_ they must end the correspondence, there and
+then.
+
+She despatched it at once, with a resolve to handle "her son Jean" with
+more restraint in the future. Needless to say she did not mention the
+letter to Agnes, whose overtures to peace she had finally accepted.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Life went on its interesting way. Captain O'Leary made his peace with
+her, too, and lost it again. Major O'Dell acted as intermediary in their
+battles. He was delightful, in this capacity, but he would not tell any
+more about the coat. He said he would see that it was returned to her,
+but that it might take some time.
+
+The next letter from Jean Jacques Petard was a flaming torch of passion.
+She might as well drop her disguise. He knew her for her true self. He
+loved her madly; he read her love, in the cold lines she forced her pen
+to write. One word of love from her and he would come. He was on
+convalescent leave and at her service.
+
+She was really alarmed now. Nothing but the impossibility of getting a
+cable sent kept her from that extravagance. She wrote him at length. It
+was all a mistake. She admitted that she was young. She told him that
+she did not love him, and that--deeply grateful though she was for his
+beautiful devotion--she felt that this must be her last communication to
+him. She added, in the hope of putting an end to his letters, that she
+was about to leave Bermuda. With a sigh of relief she posted this
+dismissal, and at that moment she ceased to be _marraine_ to Jean and
+Edouard. It was too bad that duty should carry so amiss!
+
+Two weeks later, with no explanation or excuse, a cable came from Wally
+to Miss Watts:
+
+"Come home by next boat."
+
+It was a blow to them both, they were having such a good time. But it
+was "theirs not to question why"--so they packed hastily, to catch the
+steamer leaving on the morrow.
+
+It happened that hostilities were on at the moment, between Isabelle and
+the Captain. She did not want to leave him without a farewell, nor did
+she want to make overtures toward peace. He was off on Haven's yacht
+when the news of the approaching sudden departure spread about. It
+happened that on his return no one spoke to him about it. Isabelle saw
+him after dinner on the terrace. He lit a cigarette and strolled off
+alone toward the gardens. She followed him. He wandered into a sort of
+kiosk, where the view was fine, and she darted in after him, and
+straight into his arms.
+
+"Good-bye," she said, "good-bye. I hope it isn't for ever."
+
+He held her to him in complete surprise, and laid his cheek upon her
+hair.
+
+"Cricket," he said softly, "little old crickety-Cricket! Good-bye for
+what?"
+
+She started back and looked up at him.
+
+"You! You!" she cried. "Oh! But I thought you were----"
+
+"Not Percy!" he exploded.
+
+But she ran away fast, through the garden, and he heard her laughter.
+
+This was the memory that Isabelle carried with her on the way home. It
+was sweet and warm. She was content with it for a while.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wally met them at the pier. It was plain that he was excited. After
+hasty greetings, he turned to his daughter.
+
+"Who in thunder is this Frenchman you're engaged to?"
+
+"What?" she demanded, startled.
+
+"Jean Jacques Petard visits me; Jean Jacques Petard patrols our house;
+Jean Jacques Petard shadows your mother----"
+
+"But I--but he isn't----"
+
+"None of your tricks!" ordered Wally. "What we want to know is who is
+this Jean Jacques Petard, who demands your hand in marriage?"
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
+
+
+On the way home from the pier Isabelle demanded explanations about the
+Frenchman, but Wally refused to talk.
+
+"Your mother has something to say on the subject. Wait until we get
+home."
+
+She and Miss Watts were summoned before the bar of judgment as soon as
+they reached the house. Max met them in the library and after a
+perfunctory greeting opened fire.
+
+"Miss Watts, what does this mean?"
+
+"I am sorry, Mrs. Bryce, but I must ask you to be more explicit."
+
+"Explicit? I send my daughter away in your charge and you bring her back
+engaged to some unknown poilu. Then you ask me to be explicit!"
+
+"But I know nothing of this affair, Mrs. Bryce. It is as much a surprise
+to me as it is to you."
+
+Mrs. Bryce turned an exasperated look to the girl.
+
+"It's true," said Isabelle, "she doesn't know anything about it."
+
+"But how could you get engaged to him without her knowing it? She could
+see him around, couldn't she?"
+
+"But he wasn't around. We met no Frenchman in Bermuda," protested Miss
+Watts, utterly at sea.
+
+"Will you kindly explain this mystery?" inquired Mrs. Bryce, hotly.
+
+"Yes, if you'll keep your temper and let me. In the first place, I'm not
+engaged to him."
+
+"He says you are practically engaged and that you love him," contributed
+Wally.
+
+"But I've never seen him."
+
+"What?"--in chorus from both parents.
+
+"It's true."
+
+"You'd better have a look at him," said Wally, going, to the window.
+
+Isabelle followed him hastily. A man in French uniform gazed up at the
+windows.
+
+"_Is_ that Jean Jacques?" inquired Isabelle with interest. "He isn't bad
+looking, is he?"
+
+"He patrols the block day and night. But get ahead with the plot. What
+hold has he got on you?"
+
+"None," said she, promptly. "I merely adopted him as my son."
+
+"Are you crazy?" inquired her mother.
+
+Even Miss Watts looked alarmed.
+
+"No, I'm a patriot. Down at Bermuda I met a girl I knew at school, Agnes
+Pollock. She told me about being patriotic, and how she wrote cheerful
+letters to soldiers in the trenches. So I borrowed two from her, Jean
+and Edouard. I wrote them nice motherly letters, about keeping their
+feet dry----"
+
+Wally burst into laughter, but Mrs. Bryce hushed him with a violent
+gesture.
+
+"They called me '_Ma chere marraine_,' and wrote long letters back. It
+was splendid practice for my French," she added.
+
+"But this man wouldn't be wanting to marry his '_chere marraine_',"
+challenged Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"No. He wrote rather warm letters from the first, but Agnes and I
+decided that he had a warm, appreciative nature."
+
+"Little fools! Then what?"
+
+"I wrote a very cooling letter, but it didn't work. He was worse than
+ever; he said he knew I was beautiful and young; that he loved me
+madly--wanted to ask Wally for my hand in marriage, and a lot of stuff
+like that."
+
+"And you accepted him?--this man you've never seen?"
+
+"Of course I didn't accept him. I told him that I was old; that I didn't
+love him; that Wally was dead, so he couldn't address him; and that that
+was my last letter."
+
+Again Wally laughed.
+
+"But Isabelle, why didn't you tell me something of all this?" begged
+Miss Watts.
+
+"Why should I boast of doing my bit?"
+
+"Rubbish!" exploded her mother. "You've got yourself into a nice scrape.
+How do we know what she said in these letters?" she asked Wally.
+
+"But I've told you what I said."
+
+"You didn't keep copies of them, did you?" asked Wally.
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"Have you got his letters?" from her mother.
+
+"Yes, in my trunk."
+
+"There's nothing to be done until we see them," said Mrs. Bryce,
+impatiently.
+
+"They are private letters, and I must say . . ." began Isabelle, hotly.
+
+"You be quiet," ordered her mother, angrily. "I can't see that you were
+much use, Miss Watts."
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, I had no idea that this was going on. I knew she wrote
+letters, but I supposed they were to you or to school friends. I did not
+feel it necessary to censor her mail."
+
+"You ought to know her well enough by now to know that when she seems to
+be behaving she is doing her worst."
+
+Mrs. Bryce summoned a maid and ordered Isabelle's trunk to be reported
+the moment it arrived. While they waited Mrs. Bryce interrogated Miss
+Watts as to whom Isabelle had met in Bermuda. Isabelle was at the
+window, gazing from behind the curtain at her admirer, but she noticed
+that Captain O'Leary's name was merely mentioned in a list of the
+English officers they had met.
+
+"Look here, Isabelle, how about Edouard?" whispered Wally, at her elbow.
+"Does he think he is engaged to you, too?"
+
+She felt the laugh behind his words, so she answered gravely:
+
+"No, Wally, Edouard was a dutiful son."
+
+He chuckled. Max turned at the sound.
+
+"Don't encourage her, Wally."
+
+"I can't. It's too late."
+
+"Don't worry. I disinherited them both," Isabelle assured him.
+
+"Did she have any violent love affairs?" inquired Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"There were two very devoted young men, Percy Pollock and Jack Porter.
+But I thought Isabelle handled them very well," replied Miss Watts.
+
+"Are you engaged to them?" whispered Wally again.
+
+"Wally, I'm not engaged to anybody," answered his child.
+
+The maid announced the trunks and Isabelle went in search of her
+treasures. When she returned she carried in each hand a bundle of
+letters tied with ribbons.
+
+"Son Jean's," she said, offering one bundle to Max. "We need not go over
+Son Edouard's."
+
+Mrs. Bryce began to read. As she finished a page, she handed it to
+Wally, and he in turn passed it to Miss Watts. The two women read
+solemnly, but Wally laughed occasionally. Isabelle sat by, now and then
+taking a peek at the author of this new trouble.
+
+"Well!" remarked Mrs. Bryce when the last tender words had been read.
+
+"Going some, Isabelle!" added Wally.
+
+"We'll have him in," said Max.
+
+"Oh, no; now, I wouldn't do that."
+
+"I would. Matthews will go across the street and tell him to come."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Max, what are you going to do?"
+
+"Get her letters back, of course."
+
+"Isabelle, you and Miss Watts go somewhere else and wait," Wally urged,
+as his wife gave the butler instructions.
+
+"No. I shall stay here."
+
+"You'll do no such thing. You've done your part, now you leave the rest
+of it to us," ordered her mother.
+
+"It is my hand he is asking for; those are my letters, and this is my
+affair. I shall stay right here and see it through," Isabelle asserted
+with firm determination.
+
+Max saw that, except by force, there was no way to eject her, and it was
+too late for that, as Matthews was approaching with the Frenchman.
+
+The hero entered with a ceremonious bow. He was good-looking in a
+dare-devil way, with a somewhat dissipated face. His eyes went from one
+to another until they came to Isabelle.
+
+"_Ah! mon adoree, c'est toi!_" he cried, and before any one could stop
+him, he seized her hands and covered them with kisses.
+
+"None of that!" shouted Wally, jerking Isabelle away.
+
+Max took command. She spoke, curtly, in French.
+
+"Monsieur Petard, we have read your letters to our daughter, and heard
+her story of her correspondence with you. She is, as you see, a mere
+child. I appeal to you as a soldier and a gentleman, to return her
+letters to us, and to close this painful incident."
+
+He turned to the girl.
+
+"I ask you one question. Do you love me?"
+
+"Why, no," she said, simply, "I told you I didn't."
+
+"I did not believe. Your friend, the Mademoiselle Pollock, she say you
+are infatuate wiz me; she send ze picture; she tell me you are crazy
+about me."
+
+"Agnes Pollock? Why, the dirty little liar!" cried Isabelle.
+
+"My daughter is a schoolgirl, she knows nothing about love. Will you or
+will you not, give us those letters?"
+
+He considered a second.
+
+"I have come all ze way to zese countree, because of ze lettaires of
+your schoolgirl!"
+
+"That does not interest us"--firmly.
+
+"No-o? It ees an expenseef voyage."
+
+Max looked at Wally.
+
+"Now, we're getting to the point," she said. "How much do you want for
+those letters?"
+
+"Oh, Madame, you----"
+
+"Hurry up! What is your price?"
+
+"Ver' good. I say five sousand dollaires."
+
+"Nonsense! I'll give you $1,000."
+
+"But I cannot accept zese."
+
+"That or nothing."
+
+"I have already an offaire of five sousand dollaires."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"Ze editor of what you call _Chit-Chat_."
+
+"So, you threaten us, do you?"
+
+"I would not say zat. I geef you a chance Madame, to regain ze
+indiscretions of ze schoolgirl daughter. But five sousand dollaires is
+five sousand dollaires."
+
+"What is your address?"
+
+He gave it.
+
+"Our lawyer will call on you at ten in the morning at this hotel, with
+our offer. Good morning."
+
+He bowed.
+
+"Five sousand dollaires is my price, Madame."
+
+Wally started to speak, but she stopped him.
+
+"You will hear from us to-morrow," she said.
+
+He bowed again, most formally.
+
+"_Ma petite marraine_, vous etes tres charmante," he sighed as he left.
+
+"Why didn't you give him what he asked? We don't want the thing hashed
+up in _Chit-Chat_," objected Wally.
+
+"You are going right now to the editor of _Chit-Chat_ and make a bargain
+with him. Get your lawyer, Clifford, on the 'phone and have him meet us
+there."
+
+"You needn't come, Max. It may be nasty."
+
+"I'll come," said she.
+
+Mrs. Bryce went hastily out of the room, without a look at Isabelle.
+Miss Watts followed her.
+
+"Well, Isabelle?"
+
+"Wally; I'm sorry!" she said, earnestly.
+
+He looked at her speculatively.
+
+"It may cost a pretty penny to get rid of him. Are you sure Edouard
+knows that he is disinherited?"
+
+"I hope so," she said, solemnly. "Wally, it does discourage you with
+being patriotic, or having children or anything!"
+
+"Wally, are you coming?" called Mrs. Bryce, sharply.
+
+He hurried away, trying his best to cover a smile with a befitting
+dignity.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER THIRTY
+
+
+The negotiations between Monsieur Petard, the editor of _Chit-Chat_, and
+the Bryces were neither so brief nor so simple as Mrs. Bryce had
+supposed that they would be. She did not have to be told that, after the
+notoriety of the Cartel incident, the name of Isabelle Bryce was one for
+editors to conjure with. This wily editor, who made his living by
+scandal, obligingly outlined the advertising campaign he would follow,
+to lead up to the publication of the letters.
+
+Anxious as Mrs. Bryce was to have the scandal suppressed, she was
+unwilling that Wally should pay the price which these rascals demanded.
+So lengthy and irritating meetings followed--discussion and bargaining.
+Wally insisted upon paying anything they asked, and putting a period to
+the affair. But Mrs. Bryce was upheld by Clifford, in the idea that they
+would beat them down to a much lower figure, if they persisted.
+
+During this period Max was so furious at both Isabelle and Miss Watts
+that it seemed wise for them to keep out of her way. They were like two
+conspirators slipping in and out of the house. But the most annoying
+detail was the espionage of Jean Jacques Petard. They soon discovered
+that he lay in wait for them, near the house, and on all occasions save
+when he was closeted with Bryce _pere et mere_, he was at the heels of
+Bryce _fille_.
+
+He made Miss Watts so nervous that she could hardly be induced to go
+out. Isabelle was all for having a talk with the man, and speaking her
+mind, but Miss Watts prevented this. She repeatedly said that she must
+tell Mr. Bryce of his behaviour, but Isabelle begged her not to do that
+as it would only result in their being ordered to stay indoors. After
+all, he did not speak to them, his presence could not hurt them. Let him
+follow!
+
+These were the most difficult days Isabelle had ever known. Usually,
+before, she had rescued herself with a high hand, from her escapades.
+But this thing had descended upon her head, like an avalanche, and for
+once, she saw no way of extricating herself.
+
+Then, too, she was so homesick for Bermuda that she could scarcely bear
+the thought of it. The long, happy days, with Percy and Jack at heel,
+and Captain Larry O'Leary somewhere on the horizon, they haunted her. It
+was ten whole days since they left them, and not a word from any of
+them. To come from that paradise into this prison--from that atmosphere
+of devotion to this one of reproach--from that freedom--to this--tagged
+by the horrid little Frenchman!
+
+The strain was telling upon poor Miss Watts, too. She was thinner than
+ever, and she looked haunted. Isabelle begged her to leave her, but she
+always replied: "My dear, we will face this together."
+
+But in her innermost heart Miss Watts lamented that Isabelle had not
+tried harder to interest Captain O'Leary. He was the right man for her,
+she knew it; and they certainly did need a man on their side. Wally
+might be there in spirit, but Mrs. Bryce did not allow him to express
+it.
+
+The twelfth day since their return was a dark one for everybody. Max and
+Wally had to meet the enemy at eleven, in the lawyer's office. The air
+was electric with Mrs. Bryce's irritability. She left the two culprits
+in a state of collapse.
+
+"One more performance like that, and I shall marry Jean Jacques Petard,
+and disappear," announced Isabelle, violently, as the door closed on
+them.
+
+"Isabelle, don't talk like that," begged Miss Watts.
+
+"Let's go back to Bermuda; I hate it here!" said the girl, going to the
+window. "We've got to get out of this hateful house. The spy will be
+busy this morning, so we'd better make the best of it."
+
+A motor drew up to the curb and a man got out, looking up at the
+numbers.
+
+"O my Lord!" cried Isabelle, as if it were a prayer. She ran out of the
+room and down the hall, with Miss Watts, startled into action, hurrying
+after her. Before the bell sounded, Isabelle had the door open. Captain
+O'Leary looked, first surprised and then delighted.
+
+"Cricket!" said he.
+
+"Larry--Larry!" she cried.
+
+He took both her hands and beamed on her--beamed. Then suddenly he was
+aware of Miss Watts, and he surprised everybody, including himself, by
+saluting that lady's cheek.
+
+"Captain O'Leary!" she exclaimed, and kissed him back.
+
+They all went into the living room, talking in chorus--asking questions,
+answering them--incoherent and excited.
+
+"Larry, when did you come?"
+
+"Just landed. Where are your parents?"
+
+"They're out. Oh, I'm in an awful lot of trouble with them."
+
+"Why didn't ye tell me ye were leavin' down there?"
+
+"I thought you knew. We left on a cable from Wally to hurry home. I told
+everybody."
+
+"I didn't know. What's this trouble ye speak of?"
+
+"I oughtn't to begin the moment you come."
+
+"Yes, ye ought. Let's hear."
+
+Miss Watts gave a deep sigh of relief. Isabelle began the story of her
+patriotism. Here and there Larry asked a question, and when the climax
+was reached, he leaned back and roared. Isabelle's eyes suddenly misted
+with tears.
+
+"Oh, but Larry, it isn't funny, it's awful! He's trying to make Wally
+pay a lot of money for my letters, and if Wally doesn't pay up, he is
+going to sell them to a nasty society sheet called _Chit-Chat_."
+
+His face was grave enough to suit her now.
+
+"Where is the little whelp?"
+
+"He's usually across the street looking at the house, or following me
+around," she began.
+
+"Ye mean to say he follows ye?"
+
+"You may think I'm to blame, Captain O'Leary, for not telling Mr. Bryce
+of this, but Isabelle thought it would mean that her parents would keep
+her indoors. She is dreadfully in disgrace with her parents," Miss
+Watts said.
+
+"Poor little crickety-Cricket," he murmured.
+
+"You don't blame me, do you, Larry? I know it was silly, but I just
+wanted to be a patriot, and to practise my French."
+
+"Sure I don't blame ye, ye blessed baby," he laughed.
+
+She choked a little; it was so good to be championed.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Bryce have gone for a conference with these men this
+morning, and we all hope they may settle it," sighed Miss Watts.
+
+"Where is this conference?"
+
+"At Wally's lawyer's office," said Isabelle.
+
+"Get your hat, Cricket; we'll go say a word or two at this conference."
+
+She looked at him inquiringly, and went for her wraps without a word.
+
+"Oh, Captain O'Leary, we have needed you so!" exclaimed Miss Watts.
+
+"Woman, woman, why didn't ye cable me? As it is I took the first boat."
+
+"I know you and Isabelle want to be alone, but I'm so in disgrace now,
+with Mrs. Bryce, that I dare not let her go with you, unless I go."
+
+He frowned, then smiled.
+
+"Of course, get your bonnet. Isabelle and I will have enough time later,
+to catch up on our affairs."
+
+So all three of them got into the Captain's taxi, and hurried to the
+address which Isabelle gave the driver.
+
+There was some little difficulty in Mr. Clifford's outer office, but
+Captain O'Leary simplified it, by lifting the office boy out of the
+way, bodily, opening the door and marching in, followed by the two
+women.
+
+Startled glances were lifted to this tall officer, stranger to them all,
+who strode in, unannounced. The lawyer rose angrily.
+
+"How did you get in?" he demanded.
+
+"Walked. Present me to the Bryces, Miss Watts," he replied.
+
+Miss Watts in a trembling voice said:
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, this is Captain O'Leary, a friend of Isabelle's and mine
+from Bermuda."
+
+Mrs. Bryce stared--too astonished to speak. The tall, young man bowed.
+
+"This is my father," said Isabelle. The two men shook hands.
+
+"I object to this man's coming in here," began the editor of _Chit-Chat_.
+
+Captain O'Leary fixed him with a stormy eye.
+
+"We'll hear your objections later. I know all about this rotten deal. Is
+this Jean Jacques Petard?"
+
+"This is none of your business," began Clifford, but he never finished
+it. With one long arm Captain O'Leary reached for Monsieur Petard,
+lifted the gentleman by the seat of his trousers and his collar, bore
+him toward the door. Isabelle opened it for him.
+
+"Don't kill him," she said, as he went out.
+
+Wally and Clifford rushed after him. Isabelle followed and Miss Watts
+got as far as the door. Max and the editor sat still, but sounds came to
+them from the outer hall.
+
+It was about ten minutes later that O'Leary strode into the room again,
+with heightened colour but otherwise undisturbed.
+
+"We'll hear no more of Mr. Petard, I think. Now sir, it is your turn."
+
+The editor defended himself with a chair.
+
+"What business is this, of yours?" he yelled.
+
+"Miss Bryce is going to do me the honour of marrying me, and you'll
+jolly well see how much it is my business. Put down that chair, it is
+words for you, not blows. Mr. Bryce, if the ladies will leave us, we can
+settle shortly with this gentleman."
+
+Max and Miss Watts lost no time in obeying the hint.
+
+"Close the door, Isabelle, please," he said to her.
+
+"Who is this man?" demanded Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Don't talk! If that creature hurts him," said Isabelle, her ear at the
+door.
+
+There were sounds of angry voices inside, loud argument. Then silence.
+After what seemed a long time, Larry opened the door.
+
+"Come in, now, please."
+
+They filed in. The editor was huddled in his chair. He was pretty much
+to pieces, nervously. Larry held up a package of letters.
+
+"Mrs. Bryce, the letters are in my possession. May I keep them, for the
+present, Isabelle?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"This gentleman has just signed a paper, drawn up by Mr. Bryce and me,
+signed by Mr. Clifford. This will be held by Mr. Clifford, in case of
+need. That ends this conference, I believe," he said affably.
+
+The editor left hastily. Mr. Clifford went into the outer office, and
+Max turned to Isabelle.
+
+"Why didn't you tell us you were going to marry this man?" she demanded.
+
+Isabelle looked at Larry inquiringly, whereupon he took her hand and
+drew it through his arm.
+
+"Ye must forgive her, Mrs. Bryce, ye see she didn't know it. I've never
+had a chance yet to ask her."
+
+Max was used to shocks, but this morning had been too much for her. At
+this astounding statement on the part of their god-like liberator, she
+sat down suddenly, bereft of words, and stared at the two young people.
+
+"Take me home, Wally," she said, "I can't stand any more!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
+
+
+"Suppose,"--said Mrs. Bryce, as they got into the limousine, "--suppose
+we postpone explanations until after lunch. I'm too worn out to
+understand anything you may say."
+
+So conversation was casual enough on the way home. Once there, Isabelle
+manoeuvred to get Larry alone, but Wally stuck to him like a father.
+
+"Wally," said his daughter, sternly, "Max wants you."
+
+"What does she want?"--impatiently.
+
+"You."
+
+He went, reluctantly. Larry held out two eager hands to Isabelle, but
+she ignored them.
+
+"Sweetheart," he said, anxiously.
+
+"Larry, you told a lie."
+
+"Many of 'em, darlin'. Which one?"
+
+"You said I was going to marry you."
+
+"Aren't you, crickety-Cricket?"--anxiously.
+
+"I haven't decided--yet."
+
+"But won't ye decide, dearie?"
+
+"I may--when I'm properly asked."
+
+"What is properly, Mavourneen?"
+
+"I don't know. I've never been proposed to before, except by Jean
+Jacques Petard."
+
+She was entirely in earnest, so he humoured her.
+
+"Would ye prefer the formal 'Will-ye-do-me-the-honour-to-become-me-bride?'
+sort, or a more impassioned style?"
+
+"Oh, Larry, you must advise me! Which would you take?"
+
+With a laugh--half amused, wholly tender--he took her into his arms.
+
+"I'd take the quickest way to get ye, little wee leprechaun."
+
+"Larry, I won't let you off. I do so _want_ to be proposed to."
+
+"My dear," he said gently, "I love ye a very great deal. I want ye to
+love me a very great deal, and to be my wife."
+
+Both arms went around his neck. She drew his tall head down to her, and
+kissed him.
+
+"Thank you, Larry; I will," she said.
+
+He gathered her up and went to sit in a chair big enough to hold them
+both. He kissed her eyes, her saucy chin, her hair. He told her in
+tender ways, known only to the Irish, how he loved her, how he wanted to
+make for her a shield of his love, to keep her safe and happy.
+
+"Do ye love me, Cricket?" he begged her.
+
+"Larry," she said, solemnly; "I feel as if you were all the people I
+have loved in my whole life--Ann, Mrs. Benjamin, Jerry, and Herbert----"
+
+"And Percy?" he teased her. "When did ye begin to love me?" he asked, in
+the old way of lovers.
+
+"On the boat, going down."
+
+"Ye didn't."
+
+"I did."
+
+"I felt it comin' on me, stronger and stronger, at Bermuda, but that
+night when ye came into my arms in the garden settled it. I had to come
+and find out who ye thought ye were lovin'."
+
+She only laughed. Luncheon was announced and the family appeared. The
+meal was more or less the usual midday repast, but to Isabelle and Larry
+it might have been ambrosia, or sawdust. They made motions of eating,
+between long glances. Wally and Max tried not to notice, but Miss
+Watts's face was wreathed in a fatuous smile of satisfaction.
+
+Later, when they went to the living room, she started to slip away, but
+Isabelle put her arm through the older woman's and led her along.
+
+"We'll face this out together," she whispered.
+
+"We seem to have had the end of this story, Isabelle; suppose we now
+have the first of it," said her mother in an amused tone.
+
+The Captain and Isabelle smiled at each other.
+
+"Will you recite it, or shall I?" he asked.
+
+"Together."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"_Chapter One. The good ship 'Astra.' The hero forces his acquaintance
+upon the heroine . . ._" he began.
+
+"Didn't you want to meet him?" inquired Max, curiously.
+
+"Certainly, but I didn't want him to know it. All the women on board
+made fools of themselves about him."
+
+"Deceivin' little minx! Is this the way ye brought her up, Mrs. Bryce?"
+
+"I didn't bring her up. She's brought herself up. Go on with the story."
+
+"_The hero curried favour with one Miss Watts in hope of advancing his
+suit . . ._"
+
+"Miss Watts was foolish about him, too," announced Isabelle.
+
+"I was," admitted Miss Watts.
+
+"_The heroine promptly acquired one Major O'Dell, of the English army,
+one odious youth, named Percy, one nondescript yclept Jack----_"
+
+"And an Irishman named O'Leary," boasted Isabelle.
+
+"_And an Irishman named O'Leary. She led them all a pretty dance, and
+when her affairs were so complicated that a lawyer couldn't straighten
+them out, whist! she disappears._"
+
+"Engaged to a Frenchman!" supplied Wally. "Catholic tastes, our
+Isabelle, a regular internationalist."
+
+Larry looked at Wally as if seeing him for the first time, and laughed
+appreciatively.
+
+"The Irishman followed," prompted Isabelle.
+
+"_The Irishman followed. Now he wishes to apologize for the abrupt way
+in which he intruded into the peace conference. He makes the proper, if
+somewhat belated request, that Mr. and Mrs. Bryce will look upon him
+kindly as a son-in-law._"
+
+His gay smile went swiftly from Max to Wally.
+
+"Isabelle, has he proposed yet?" asked Max.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you accept him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I cannot believe that you could ever do anything so sensible."
+
+"Thank you," bowed the Captain. "Mr. Bryce, the British consul has full
+information about me. I am a captain in the ---- Regiment. I am on sick
+leave, wounded at Ypres."
+
+Wally put out his hand and grasped O'Leary's.
+
+"I'll have a talk with the Consul this afternoon, but if Isabelle likes
+you as well as I do, your case is safe right now."
+
+Isabelle fell upon Wally and hugged him. The next victim was Miss Watts.
+
+"I know you'll be happy, my dear. You know how to take care of her,
+Captain O'Leary."
+
+"Trust me," he said.
+
+Isabelle went and stood in front of her mother.
+
+"Well?" said Isabelle.
+
+"I think you ought to kiss me, don't you?"
+
+She did.
+
+"It is ridiculous for you to be engaged before you're out," remarked
+Mrs. Bryce.
+
+"Max, I never intended to come out. I made up my mind about that long
+ago."
+
+Max shrugged her shoulders and held out a hand to Larry.
+
+"I'm glad we are going to have such a handsome person in the family,"
+she said.
+
+He bowed over the hand.
+
+"Ye're remindin' me that 'handsome is as handsome does.' I invite ye to
+watch me."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Don't talk any nonsense about getting married, for this child is only
+eighteen."
+
+"I'm expectin' my orders any day," he said, turning to the girl.
+
+"To go back--there?" she cried.
+
+He nodded. She went to stand in the circle of his arm.
+
+"Max, when Larry goes, I go with him, if it is to-morrow," she
+said--quietly, firmly.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+No more was said about it at that time, but it was an issue that had to
+be faced very shortly. Two halcyon weeks followed for the lovers, and
+then for Larry a summons came. He brought the news to her one afternoon.
+When he came into the room she knew. She went into his arms with a
+little cry--
+
+"Dearest, when?"
+
+He held her close for a moment.
+
+"I must sail on Saturday, belovedest."
+
+He felt the shiver that went through her, but she made no protest.
+
+"I can be ready," she said.
+
+"Little love, I've been thinkin', maybe ye'd better not go. Maybe ye'd
+better stay here and wait for me."
+
+"I'll wait for you, just as close to those dreadful trenches as they'll
+let me come!" she said, fiercely.
+
+She summoned the family and told them the news. She wished to be
+married on the morrow and sail with her boy on Saturday.
+
+"But you've got no clothes!" protested Max.
+
+"We'll be married to-morrow at five, Max; here or in a church, whichever
+you say."
+
+"Here, of course," said Wally.
+
+"We don't want any fuss, or people, or excitement. I will pack to-night
+so that Larry and I may have the whole day free to-morrow," said
+Isabelle, with a quiet authority that silenced them all.
+
+For once Max let her have it her own way. She had always dreamed of
+Isabelle's wedding as a big fashionable event. It was like her daughter
+to do it this way. She actually went off for the entire day with her
+lover, coming back only in time to dress.
+
+There were no guests except Miss Watts and Martin Christiansen. Major
+O'Dell, whose orders took him back on the ship with them, acted as best
+man for Larry. Just as she was hurrying downstairs, Isabelle met Wally,
+waiting for her. He slipped a box into her hand and said brokenly:
+
+"Little secret between us, Isabelle. I know you're going to be happy
+with this chap, but I'm frightened,--it's all such a gamble!"
+
+She put her arms about him and kissed him tenderly. He felt that she had
+grown into a woman over night.
+
+"It's all right, dear. I'm not frightened. I'm sure!"
+
+"Lord, but I'll miss you!"
+
+"Dear old Wally--dear old Wally!" she said very close to tears.
+
+It was a simple brief ceremony, this wedding. They were all a little
+solemn with the thought of what this world in dissolution might hold for
+these radiant young lovers. Larry O'Leary's face was something to
+remember, when Isabelle plighted him her troth, and there was a sudden
+womanly dignity in Isabelle's bearing that made the eyes smart.
+
+But later, at the wedding supper, no one could resist the boyish
+happiness of Larry. He swept them all into his joyousness, and when the
+time came for their farewells, there were no tears, only good wishes and
+high hopes.
+
+In the motor car on the way to the hotel, Larry's arm held Isabelle
+close.
+
+"Wee wife," he said, softly; "wee wife."
+
+There was no need of words, their happiness was folded round them like a
+cloak. They dined in their sitting room, as merry as larks.
+
+"Happy, darlin'?" he asked her.
+
+"I suppose that's what you call it! I've got a whole new world, Larry.
+That's your wedding gift to me!"
+
+He kissed her hair and went into the other room for a second. When he
+came back he held something behind him.
+
+"Heart of me," said he, "I've a confession!"
+
+"Larry!"
+
+"It's only luck that you're here to-night."
+
+"What?"
+
+"There once was a leprechaun visited me in the night, and she left me
+something to know her by. I've been lookin' for her ever since. I swore
+I'd marry her when I found her!"
+
+"Yes?"--anxiously.
+
+"Will ye see if ye'll fit my leprechaun coat?"
+
+He held out the orange-and-black Chinese coat, and laid it about her
+shoulders.
+
+"Larry! it was you!"
+
+"Yes, darlin', an isn't it luck that it's _you_!"
+
+The coat and its owner were folded close to Larry's heart. Both of them
+had come home.
+
+
+                                THE END.
+
+
+
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                         THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS
+
+                           GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+
+Spacing around ellipses and em-dashes is as in the original.
+
+An oe-ligature was used in the words manoeuvre and Phoebe. These have
+been replaced with the letters oe.
+
+The following corrections have been made to the text:
+
+    Page 6: "{original had a single quotation mark}Well, if you want
+    her to go to this party, you'd better make a bargain with her. I
+    know her."
+
+    Page 12: "{original had a single quotation mark}I'm free an' a
+    half, an' I don't take off my cloves at a party,"
+
+    Page 14: "{original had a single quotation mark}Why?"
+
+    Page 32: There was something about the little
+    beggar----{original had superfluous closing quotation mark}
+
+    Page 46: "Put her down and let{original had ler} her walk then.
+
+    Page 67: "Most flattering. I would prefer that."{original
+    omitted closing quotation mark}
+
+    Page 68: "Very well. I'll wear a white linen dress, with a black
+    belt, and my black hat," announced the girl.{original had
+    superfluous closing quotation mark}
+
+    Page 148: "I want thee to eat some lunch, my Isabelle."{original
+    had a single quotation mark}
+
+    Page 183: "{original omitted opening quotation mark}Yes," she
+    replied, "but it's chronic in our family!"
+
+    Page 233: Major O'Dell and Captain{original had Captaim}
+    O'Leary, the latter looking very white,
+
+    Page 238: "Give{original had Giver} her a spoon to play with,
+    Larry, and pay some attention to me."
+
+    Page 242: She nodded. He fell in step beside her.{original
+    omitted the period}
+
+    Page 264: "I didn't know. What's this trouble ye speak
+    of?"{original had a single quotation mark}
+
+The following words appear with and without a hyphen. They have been
+left as in the original.
+
+    godlike/god-like
+
+    hothouse/hot-house
+
+    pincushion/pin-cushion
+
+    rewrote/re-wrote
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cricket, by Marjorie Cooke
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