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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..548d25b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52946 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52946) diff --git a/old/52946-8.txt b/old/52946-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8d111df..0000000 --- a/old/52946-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5596 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Three Sides of Paradise Green, by Augusta -Huiell Seaman, Illustrated by C. M. Relyea - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Three Sides of Paradise Green - - -Author: Augusta Huiell Seaman - - - -Release Date: August 31, 2016 [eBook #52946] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN*** - - -E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, Martin -Pettit, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 52946-h.htm or 52946-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52946/52946-h/52946-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52946/52946-h.zip) - - - - - -THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN - -by - -AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN - -Author of "The Girl Next Door," -"The Sapphire Signet," etc. - -Illustrated by C. M. Relyea - - - - - - - -[Illustration: Decoration] - -New York -The Century Co. - - -[Illustration: "I'll tell you after we've had our swim," said the Imp] - - -Copyright, 1918, by -The Century Co. - -Published, October, 1918 - - -Printed in U. S. A. - - - - -TO - -THE REAL HELEN ROBERTA - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - I THE JOURNAL IS BEGUN 3 - - II NEW DEVELOPMENTS 18 - - III THE IMP HAS THE BEST OF IT 36 - - IV THE MYSTERIOUS "MONSIEUR" 53 - - V TWO ACCIDENTS AND A MYSTERY 68 - - VI IN MONSIEUR'S ROOM 87 - - VII THE IMP MAKES A DISCOVERY 99 - - VIII THE PORTRAIT OF MYSTERY 114 - - IX CAROL MAKES A DISCOVERY OF HER OWN 125 - - X JOTTINGS FROM THE JOURNAL 138 - - XI LOUIS SPRINGS A SURPRISE--AND - THE CONSEQUENCES THEREOF 151 - - XII WHAT THE IMP KNEW 163 - - XIII SUSPICIONS 175 - - XIV A SOLEMN CONCLAVE--AND WHAT - CAME OF IT 190 - - XV MONSIEUR'S STORY 202 - - XVI AUGUST FOURTH, 1914 228 - - XVII THE IMP MAKES A LAST DISCOVERY 246 - -XVIII THE END OF THE JOURNAL 265 - - - - -THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE JOURNAL IS BEGUN - - -November 22, 1913. It's all on account of Miss Cullingford that I'm -beginning this journal. I never would have thought of such a thing by -myself. Neither would Carol. Now we've both begun one, and it's just -because Miss Cullingford is so sweet and lovely, and all the girls at -Bridgeton High School want to please her,--Carol and myself most of all. - -Miss Cullingford is our English literature instructor, and we all simply -adore her. She's the sweetest thing! She's little and slight, with -fluffy light hair and dark blue eyes. And she's _such_ an inspiration -about literature and English composition! She makes it seem actually -like a romance. They always seemed terribly dull, those subjects, when -we had Miss Trotter last year. But now we're just crazy about them. - -Well, one of the things she said yesterday in composition class was that -every one of us ought to keep a journal, not the kind of diary affair -that some people keep,--all about the weather and the number of jars of -jam they put up, and how Cousin Hannah called that day!--but an -occasional record, only written when we felt like it, of the things that -happen around us and our ideas about people and so on. She said that the -greatest minds of the ages had generally kept such a record, and that -they had proved a big addition to history and literature, too. - -Then, right there, I raised my hand and said that it was fine, of -course, for the great minds to do it, especially when they lived in -stirring times and had lots interesting to write about; but what was the -use of just plain, ordinary people, as young as we were, doing it, -especially when there wasn't anything going on that was interesting at -all,--just the same old thing every day? - -Miss Cullingford answered that I mustn't make the mistake of thinking -_any_ life uninteresting, no matter how quiet and ordinary it might -appear to be. You can always find something interesting to write about -any kind of life, if you try hard enough. And that was where the -advantage of a journal came in,--it made you look around hard to find -what was worth while, and you always found it. Also, it was a great help -to your style in writing. Then she asked if any of the girls would -promise to keep a journal faithfully for a year. Carol and I promised. - -Well, now I'm going to see. No life could possibly be more -_un_interesting than mine, here in quiet little Stafford where nothing -ever happens or ever _has_ happened that I know of, and in a family -that's awfully nice, of course, but as plain and uninteresting and -ordinary as all the rest of the families around here. - -Carol doesn't feel the same as I do about it. She's more hopeful. -That's because she has lots of imagination and is always romancing about -people and thinking there's some story back of their lives that we don't -know. I suppose her journal will be awfully different from mine. Well, -anyhow, we've both begun, and now we'll see what happens. - -November 23. I had to stop short last night because I suddenly got so -sleepy. Now I'll go on. I do wish we lived in Bridgeton, for things -surely happen once in a while in a big town like that. Or even down in -our own village of Stafford itself, and not way out, a mile off on the -main road, on this silly little triangle called Paradise Green. Even the -trolley doesn't run up this way; that would be _something_! But there's -nothing in the world around here except this little triangle of a green, -formed by the turning off of Cranberry Bog Road from the River Road, and -the short road that connects the two at the head of the green. I'm sure -I don't know why it was ever called Paradise Green. I suppose if I were -Carol, I'd find out. She probably will. She's always hunting up -historical facts. - -Even the automobiles don't come along this way. Nearly all of them keep -to the State road over on the other side of the river. There are just -three houses around the Green, one on each side, and not another -dwelling anywhere within half a mile. So we haven't many near neighbors. - -Our house stands at the head of the Green. It's a big square house, with -a cupola on top and a veranda around all four sides. Father's father -built it when that style of house was just beginning to be popular, and -everybody thought it very grand. I hate it myself, because it seems so -old-fashioned and dreary compared to those pretty new bungalows they are -putting up in Bridgeton. Mother and Father and the Imp and I live here. -Father does intensive farming,--he is just crazy about it,--and every -one comes to Birdsey's for ideas on the subject. - -Dave is my brother. He's seventeen and a half, and a very quiet and -thoughtful sort of person. All the same, he can do his own share of -teasing in a quiet way. He left high school this year because his health -wasn't very good, and is helping Father with the farming. Next year he's -going to study scientific agriculture at one of the big colleges. I'm -secretly awfully fond of Dave, but just at present he pretends to look -down on girls as entirely unnecessary articles in the general scheme of -things, so Carol and I are letting him severely alone. - -The Imp is my sister. She's twelve years old and a perfect nuisance. -Carol and I have named her "The Imp" because she acts just like one. She -likes to trot around with us all the time, but we won't have it. It's -impossible to have a child of twelve continually hanging on to girls of -fifteen or sixteen, and Carol and I simply won't stand it. The Imp is -fearfully miffed about this and spends her time thinking up revengeful -things to do to us. She makes our lives perfectly miserable sometimes, -though we wouldn't let her know it for the world. - -Carol's house is on the River Road side of the Green. She lives there -with just her mother and her Aunt Agatha. The Fayres are distant -relatives of ours, so Carol and I are really cousins. Their house is one -of the old style, a real New England farmhouse, and they have a glorious -big barn in the back, where we've all played ever since we were babies. -One little room off the haymow Carol and I have fixed up as our private -den and study. We keep our books and our fancywork there, and her mother -gave us an old desk where we do our school work. We always keep the den -locked with a padlock, because the Imp would like to get in and rummage -around. She's as mad as a hatter because she can't. She threatens to -climb in the window sometime, but I don't believe she could possibly. If -she did, she'd probably break her neck. - -Carol is fifteen years old, and I'm sixteen. Her name is really -Caroline, but she hates it and wants to be called "Carol" instead. She -says it's so much prettier. And mine is even worse--_Susan_! Could -anything be more dreadful? I've insisted on being called "Susette," -which at least is a prettier French form. But no one except Carol will -ever call me that. Every one calls me either "Susie" or "Sue," that is, -all but the Imp. She, of course, knowing how much I detest it, will say -nothing but "So-o-san" on all occasions. Carol she addresses by the -horrible nickname of "Cad." Why are some children so irritating, I -wonder? The infuriating part is that the Imp's own name is really -lovely--Helen Roberta--and she knows it, little torment that she is! - -Well, I haven't yet told about the third house on the Green, so now I -come to that. It's the one on the Cranberry Bog Road side. It's by far -the most interesting of the three,--a long, rambling colonial farmhouse, -built, they say, way back in seventeen hundred and something. It has the -most fascinating additions in all directions from the main part, and -queer little back stairways and old slave quarters, and I don't know -what else. But the people who live in it are the interesting part. - -To begin with, there's Louis. His whole name is Louis Charles Durant. He -is seventeen and goes to high school in Bridgeton with us. We have known -him all our lives, and he's the nicest, jolliest boy we know. But the -people he lives with I've never understood at all, and if there were any -romance or mystery about any one around here, it would be about them. - -Come to think of it, they _are_ mysterious. Carol has always said so, -but I never thought much about it. And that only goes to show that Miss -Cullingford is right. Keeping a journal does certainly make you go about -with your eyes open wider and gives you an interest in things you never -thought worth while before. I never thought or cared a bit about Louis's -folks before, and now I see they're full of possibilities. - -November 24. Fell asleep again last night while I was writing. I guess -it's because there's nothing very exciting to write about. However, I'll -go on from where I left off about Louis's folks. First, there's the old -man. Louis's father and mother have been dead a number of years. I never -remember seeing either of them. So he lives with this old man, who, they -say, is his guardian. His name is John Meadows, or at least that is what -he is always called around here. But Louis says that he is French, and -that his real name is Jean Mettot. He is very old; he must be eighty at -least. And he is very feeble now, too. He sits all day long in a great -armchair by the parlor window. He never reads anything but the papers -and some great, heavy volumes of French history, but he spends a great -deal of time thinking and dreaming, while he looks way off over the -meadows toward the river. - -Then there's his daughter, Miss Meadows. She's about forty or fifty -years old, I should think. Louis says her name is Yvonne. Certainly, -that's a fascinating French name. She's very dark and handsome and quick -in her ways, but she's very, very quiet and silent. I never had a _real_ -conversation with her in my life, though I've talked to her a great -many times. I do all the talking, and she nods or smiles or says "Yes" -and "No," and that is absolutely all. I feel as if I'd never really -_know_ her, if I talked to her a hundred years. They have one servant, a -big French peasant from Normandy, who cooks the meals and takes care of -the garden and house. - -All this doesn't sound very strange, however. And there _is_ something -very mysterious about them,--at least, so Carol has always said. I never -paid much attention to the thing before, or noticed it. The curious part -of it all is the way they treat Louis. He isn't any real relative, so he -says. His parents and their parents have just been dear friends from a -long way back. It's plain that they think the world of him, too, just as -much as if he were a relative. But there's something more. They are -continually watching him with anxious eyes. They guard him as if he -weren't able to take care of himself any more than a baby. They don't -let him have half the liberty and fun that ordinary boys have. Lots of -mothers and fathers, who love their children to distraction, aren't half -as fussy and concerned about them as these two people are about a boy -who isn't even a relative. It makes Louis awfully annoyed, for he hates -like anything to be coddled. Once he fell out of an apple-tree and broke -a rib, and they nearly went wild. He had a fever that night and lay in a -sort of stupor. But when he was coming out of it he heard them talking -awfully queerly about him and wringing their hands and whispering that -"he would never, never forgive us if Monsieur Louis were to die." - -Who "he" was, or why his Aunt Yvonne and his Uncle Jean (as he calls -them) should allude to him as "Monsieur Louis," was something Louis -couldn't understand. And somehow, when he was better, he didn't like to -ask. - -They have taught him French, and with them he always has to speak that -language. But he doesn't like it, because he says he's an American -citizen and would rather talk "United States" than anything else. He's -awfully patriotic and proud of this country, and he can't understand why -this should bother Mr. and Miss Meadows. But it somehow does. He's sure -of it, for they won't let him talk about it, and are always telling him -that his great grandfather was born in France and that he should be very -proud of it. - -Then there's another thing, too, that seems to worry them a lot. Louis -is crazy about mechanical engineering. He declares he's going to study -that exclusively, when he's through high school, and become an expert in -it. This nearly drives them wild. They want him to be a "statesman," as -they call it, and study law and history and diplomacy and all that sort -of thing. - -"You can serve your country best that way," they are always telling him. - -Once he said to them: - -"The United States has plenty of that sort already. _I_ want to go in -for something special." And he says they never answered a word, but -just looked queerly at each other and walked off. - -Another time he found that the lock on their kitchen door wouldn't work, -so he unscrewed it and took it out. He was fixing it when along came his -Aunt Yvonne. When she saw what he was doing she burst into tears and -rushed away, muttering, "The ancient blood! It will ruin -everything!"--or something in French like that. - -All these things do not happen frequently, of course, but when something -like it does occur, it puzzles Louis dreadfully. He always talks it over -with us when we come home together from Bridgeton High School on the -trolley, so that's why I happen to know about it. - -Well, now I've begun this journal by telling all about ourselves and our -homes and everything else I can think of. But as I read it over, it -doesn't sound one bit exciting or likely to become "an interesting -contribution to history," as Miss Cullingford would say. I wonder what -she'd think about it. I'm glad I didn't promise to _show_ her my -journal, for I'm not very proud of this sample. I'm crazy to see what -Carol has written. We're going to compare our journals to-morrow. - -One thing is certain, though. I'm not going to write another word till -I've something more interesting to talk about, even if I have to wait -six months! - - - - -CHAPTER II - -NEW DEVELOPMENTS - - -December 1, 1913. I haven't written a thing in this journal for over a -week, for a number of reasons. In the first place, I'd made up my mind -not to write till I had something worth writing about. In the second -place, we've been having some exams at school that took a lot of work to -prepare for. Third, Thanksgiving holidays came along, and we were all -pretty busy and had a lot of engagements. Altogether, I haven't had a -minute till now--_and_ something has happened that's rather interesting -to write about. - -Carol is ever so much better at this journal business than I am. She -writes nearly every other day. But then, she doesn't mind writing about -all the little ordinary occurrences,--the things she does about the -housework and her studies and so on. But I simply can't do it. If I -can't tell about something a little out of the ordinary, I won't write -at all. And as nothing besides the usual ever happens in either one of -our two households (or at school or in the village!), I find myself -turning more and more to Louis and his affairs for interest. - -It's strange (I've heard other people speak of the same thing, too) that -when you once get to thinking about a certain thing, all sorts of other -ideas and events connected with it will suddenly begin to appear. I -never gave a thought to Louis and his affairs before I began this -journal. He has always lived here, and we've always known him and never -thought there was anything strange about his folks. But now so many -queer little things have happened and so many strange ideas have come to -us (Carol and myself, I mean) about that house across the Green that it -seems as if there _must_ be some mystery right near our commonplace -lives after all. - -Before I tell what happened, however, I must remark that the Imp has -been particularly exasperating lately. She got wind somehow or other -(at first we _couldn't_ think how) that Carol and I are keeping -journals. Later I discovered that it was because Carol had carelessly -left hers on the desk in our den, and had forgotten to padlock the door. -Carol is so thoughtless at times, because she gets to going about with -"her head in the clouds," as her Aunt Agatha says, and doesn't remember -half the things she ought to do. It's generally when she's thinking up -some verses. Carol _does_ compose very pretty verses. Miss Cullingford -has praised them highly. But she's always awfully absent-minded when -she's thinking about them. - -Well, the way we learned that the Imp had discovered our journals was by -a large sheet of paper pinned to Carol's barn-door. This was written on -it: - - - November 29. How these precious autumn days fly by! Each one is - like a polished jewel. I made my bed and dusted my room at eight A. - M. Then I composed a sweet little poem on "Feeding the Pigs." After - that I slept in the hammock on the porch till lunchtime. The days - are all too short for these many duties! - - -Of course we were furious. Carol confessed to me that she had left her -journal open on the desk in the den, and the last entry was awfully like -what that little wretch had written, only Carol had spoken of composing -a poem on "Feeding the Pigeons." She _had_ slept on the porch all -morning, because it was a lovely mild day and I was away with Mother at -a luncheon in Bridgeton. But she hadn't mentioned this in her journal. - -It is perfectly useless to argue with the Imp, or to scold or reason -with her. She can go you one better every single time. We concluded that -the best thing to do was ignore the incident entirely. So we left the -paper hanging on the barn-door till the wind blew it away. A course of -action like that makes the Imp madder than if you got purple in the face -with fury. I've advised Carol not to leave her journal in the den any -more, but to keep it in her room, and she says she will. - -All this, however, isn't telling what happened to Louis. He told us -about it this afternoon while we were resting on our veranda after a -hot session of pitching the basketball about. After a while we just had -to sit down and get our breath, and the Imp strolled off by herself -somewhere. It was then that Louis told us the strange thing that -happened yesterday. - -It seems that his Aunt Yvonne has gone to New York on a visit for a few -days, and he has been alone with his Uncle John and the servant. -Yesterday afternoon, about five o'clock, a boy rode up from the village -on a bicycle with a telegram for his uncle. The old gentleman opened it, -but couldn't read it because he had mislaid his glasses. So he got Louis -to read it to him. Louis says the thing was a cablegram from some place -in France--he can't remember the name--and that it was the queerest -message. It ran like this: - - - Time almost ripe. Have you the necessary papers? Sail next month. - - -When his uncle heard this he became terribly excited and began to walk -up and down the room very fast. But when Louis asked him what it all -meant, all he would say was: - -"It is not for you to inquire or for me to explain just yet, Monsieur!" -Louis says his uncle often calls him "monsieur," and he can't understand -why. He thinks it's generally when the old gentleman forgets himself or -is excited. But it makes Louis feel very queer. - -After that his uncle wouldn't say anything more, but Louis says he began -to rummage around through all his letters and papers, and looked through -all his books and in all the closets, evidently hunting for something he -couldn't find. And the more he hunted, the more nervous and excitable he -grew. Every once in a while he would exclaim, "Ah, why is not that -Yvonne here?" By bedtime he was pretty well worked up, for it was -evident that he couldn't find what he was searching for. Louis tried and -tried to get him to explain and let him help in the hunt. But the old -gentleman would only mutter, "No, no! That cannot be!" Louis says he -doesn't think his uncle slept all night, because he heard him rummaging -about in all sorts of places till nearly morning. To-day he seems -terribly used up. He just sits in his chair by the window, staring out -and watching for his daughter to come. Louis says he had to go down to -the village at eight o'clock last night with a telegram, telling his -Aunt Yvonne to come home at once. - -How mysterious it all sounds! Louis declares he can't imagine what it -means, and it makes him very uneasy, because he is almost certain that -it is something concerning himself. He says he sometimes thinks his -uncle is planning to send him to France before he gets much older, to -complete his studies there and to become a French citizen, and he -doesn't want to go. - -My idea was that perhaps he had some relatives there and that they -wanted him to come back. But Louis says his uncle has often told him -that he hasn't any relatives living. And if he had, he says there's no -reason why there should be all this secrecy about it. But he can't -understand who the people are with whom his uncle is corresponding. - -Carol's opinion was that perhaps Louis was a descendant of some titled -person,--a count or a marquis or something like that,--and that these -people are trying to bring him back to his legal title and estates. -Louis simply hooted at that. He says that his great grandfather was a -plain "monsieur" when he came over here long ago; that he never had been -anything else and didn't want to be. So that Carol's idea was all -nonsense. Carol is always romancing like that, and generally getting -laughed at. Just at this point the Imp came suddenly around the corner -of the veranda and demanded: - -"What are you talking about? I warrant dollars to doughnuts it's about -Louis." - -That child has a perfectly uncanny way of lighting on just the thing you -don't care to have her know about. She's a veritable mind-reader. None -of us cared at that particular moment to explain what we were -discussing, so no one said a word. Meanwhile the Imp eyed us with a -grin. And before any one could think of something to say that would -change the subject, she exploded this bomb in our midst: - -"Louis' Aunt Yvonne has come home. She's having a fit!" - -Louis just scooted for his own house as fast as he could. We asked her -how she knew Miss Meadows was having a fit, and she said: - -"Because I saw her drive up and get out of the hack and run up the -steps. I had climbed a tree in their side yard to look into an oriole's -nest, and I heard her open the door and call out a lot of things in -French to old Mr. Meadows." - -The Imp is terribly quick about picking up languages, and she has teased -Louis into teaching her quite a little French, which he declared to us -she picked up with lightning speed. It makes Carol and me furious -sometimes to feel that she has this advantage over us, for we haven't -come to French yet in high school, and are so busy digging out our Latin -that we haven't either time or interest to learn another language on the -side. Well, it humiliated me to pieces to have to ask her what Miss -Yvonne said, but I swallowed my pride and did so. All the little wretch -answered, as she walked away, was: - -"Wouldn't you like to know?" - -[Illustration: "Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied, exasperatingly] - -We didn't see anything more of Louis to-day, and Carol and I are just -burning up with curiosity. I could shake the Imp till her teeth -chattered! - - -There was a cosy group gathered about the open fire in the Birdseys' -big, comfortable, and not too tidy living-room. At a large center table, -drawn close to the blaze, sat Carol and Sue, scribbling away for dear -life in two large, fat note-books and covering the table with many trial -sheets of mathematical figuring. They were exact opposites in -appearance. Sue was tall and slim to the point of angularity. She had -dark eyes, and her dark hair was coiled heavily about her head. Carol -was short and plump, with dreamy blue eyes and wavy auburn hair that -still hung in a thick braid. - -On the davenport, curled up like a kitten in one corner, sat the Imp, -or "Bobs," as she was generally called,--her chin propped in her hands, -a book balanced against her knees. In sharp contrast to the other two -girls was her tiny body and dark, straight hair, and the big blue eyes -that could at one moment gaze with liquid, angelic candor, and at the -next snap with impish mischief. There was mischief in them at the -moment, as she stared reflectively at the two girls bent over the table. -Unaware of her gaze, they scribbled on, comparing notes at intervals. - -"Do you get the answer 4ab(ab+2bm) ½ to your third problem?" presently -inquired Sue, without looking up. - -"No, I don't!" moaned Carol in depressed tones, pushing aside her work -and running her fingers through her hair. "I don't get anything at all." - -"Well, don't worry. Let's see what's wrong. Hand over your work and I'll -compare it with mine," said her companion soothingly. She dragged -Carol's note-book toward her and compared it with her own. - -"Oh, I see what you've done!" she exclaimed in a moment. "In the first -equation you didn't put down--" - -At this instant the Imp, whose eyes had been smoldering with suppressed -mischief, yawned loudly, stretched herself, and remarked with apparent -irrelevance: - -"It's a long day when you don't go to school, isn't it?" - -Both girls sat up with a jerk and surveyed her sternly. - -"Do you mean to say that you haven't been to school to-day?" they -demanded in a breath, and Sue added, "I'd like to know why not." - -"I had a bad headache this morning, Susan," explained the Imp sweetly. -"Mother let me stay home. I was all right by two o'clock, though. Louis -and I had a game of basketball before it began to rain." - -Her companions glanced at each other with a meaning expression, none of -which was lost on the Imp. With a grin of satisfaction, she proceeded: - -"His aunt called him in just before we finished, and he didn't come out -again." - -With a visible effort, Sue inquired: - -"Did he say why he wasn't at school to-day? We thought it rather queer -when he didn't come, but perhaps, after the strange thing that happened -yesterday--" - -This was precisely the trap into which the Imp had planned that they -should fall. - -"I didn't ask him," she remarked, with exasperating calm. - -"No doubt you didn't," retorted Carol heatedly, "but perhaps he told you -without being asked." - -"Perhaps he did," returned the Imp, "and perhaps he told me a lot more. -However, I must say bye-bye for the present. I've got to go and study my -lessons somewhere where I won't be disturbed!" - -She scrambled down and sailed out of the room, waving airily to them -from the doorway. - -"Isn't she simply maddening!" exclaimed Sue. "The idea of saying she had -to go and study! I never knew her to study a thing in my life. She -seems to know her lessons by instinct." - -"But what _do_ you suppose Louis told her?" mused Carol. - -"Not much, or I miss my guess," returned Sue. "She's only trying to -tease us. But it is strange that he stayed home to-day. Something -serious must be the matter. He hasn't missed a day this term before." - -"But if it was serious," argued Carol, "why should he be out playing -with the Imp?" - -At this moment the door opened and a tall, slender boy of seventeen or -eighteen strolled in, his hands in his overcoat pockets, his cheeks and -overcoat still wet with the driving rain. - -"Hello, girls!" he remarked, warming his hands by the blaze of the open -fire. - -"Hello, Dave!" they replied. "Where did you come from?" - -"Been over to Louis's. Queer thing about it, too," he commented, -dropping down on the vacant davenport. - -"What?" they gasped in breathless chorus. - -He looked at them inquiringly. - -"Why all the astonishment on _your_ part?" he demanded. "What do you -know about it, anyway?" - -"Oh, a lot of queer things seem to be happening to Louis lately," -explained Carol. "But go on! Tell us all about it." - -"Well, Father didn't need me to-night, so I thought I'd stroll over to -Louis's and see if he wanted a little session with that higher -mathematics course that he and I are working at together on our own -hook. I rang at the front door several times, but didn't get any -response. Then I tried the back door, with no better luck. There was a -light in the parlor, too, but, on glancing in the window, I saw that no -one was there. Mr. Meadows had evidently gone to bed. I had just started -out to the barn, thinking that Louis might be in his work-room there, -when I noticed a light in one of the cellar windows. I then felt sure -that Louis was down there, clearing up or getting vegetables for his -aunt, so I went over and peeped in, thinking to give him a surprise. It -was _I_ who got the surprise, though!" - -"What did you see?" demanded Sue in an awestricken whisper. - -"Funniest sight ever! There Miss Yvonne was standing with a lamp in her -hand, and Louis, with a pickaxe and shovel, had pried out one of the -stones in the foundation near the big chimney and was poking around in -the hole he'd made, while Miss Yvonne stared into it, those big black -eyes of hers as round as saucers. While I was still looking, she shook -her head, motioned Louis to put the stone back, and pointed to another a -little farther along. I began to feel as if I'd lit on something that -wasn't any business of mine, so instead of knocking on the window as I'd -intended, I just got up and came away. Guess they must be hunting for -buried treasure or something. Never knew they suspected the presence of -any in their old ranch. Louis didn't look as if he were particularly -enjoying the job, however." - -"Well, that's about all," he ended, suddenly remembering what, in the -excitement of the little adventure, he had momentarily forgotten,--his -superior pose toward all girls and toward his sister in particular. Then -he vanished swiftly out of the room, lest they be moved to ask him any -further questions and lest he be tempted to answer. - -After he had gone, Sue and Carol stared at each other in a maze of -excited conjecture. - -"What do you make of it?" sighed Carol. - -"I don't make anything of it," declared Sue. "It sounds too mysterious -for words. But I know this much. They weren't hunting for buried -treasure. It's for papers of some kind. I'm sure of it. But what can -they be about, and why should they be in the cellar?" - -But Carol was off on another tack. - -"At last we'll have something worth while to write about in our -journals," she remarked. "Don't you ever think again, Susette Birdsey, -that nothing exciting happens in our lives! I can fill up three or four -pages about it." - -Her companion assented absently. - -"Do you realize," she suddenly exclaimed, "that here's where we got way -ahead of the Imp? Serves her right for playing us such a mean trick and -going out of the room. I call it a piece of downright luck!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE IMP HAS THE BEST OF IT - - -December 31. This is New Year's Eve and it's nearly twelve o'clock. -Carol and I promised each other that we'd sit up and see the old year -out, and write in our journals. Carol is finishing a lovely poem she's -been writing, called, "On New Year's Eve." It begins: - - - The silent snow is falling light, - On New Year's Eve, on New Year's Eve,-- - - -That's all I can remember of it. The only trouble is that there isn't -any snow falling to-night. There's a regular thaw on, and it's -dreadfully warm and mushy. - -There's something awfully solemn about New Year's Eve. It makes you feel -sorry for all the mean things you've done, and you form all sorts of -good resolutions for the future. At least, I do, and so does Carol. But -I have my doubts about the Imp. I don't believe she is sorry for a -single thing she's ever done. She doesn't act so, anyway. - -And speaking of her, I've made it my principal resolution for the new -year to be more patient with her. I suppose every one has to have some -great trial in life, and the Imp is certainly the chief one for Carol -and me. Lately she has been more than usually infuriating. Every -afternoon during the past month she has inquired of us, "Have you -written in your journals to-day, my dears? If not, run and do so at -once." - -When she first began to say that, I made the mistake of asking her how -she knew I was keeping a journal. She retorted: - -"Oh, that's easy. I found out that Cad was, so of course I knew you were -up to the same trick. You're as like each other as two penny hat-pins." - -All I could think of to answer was: - -"Well, I don't see that it is any one's affair but our own, if we _are_ -keeping them." - -To this she returned: - -"Who said it was?" - -"You did," I retorted, "and I'll be obliged to you not to take it upon -yourself to remind us about writing in them." - -All she replied to this was: - -"Louis's folks got another cablegram this morning. You'd better put that -in." - -Then she walked off and wouldn't say another word. That's just exactly -like her. She's bound to light on the very thing you'd rather she didn't -know about. And she always seems to have inside information about -something you'd give your head to know about and never seem to get hold -of. How she knew about the cablegram, I can't think, unless she saw the -messenger-boy come up with it and questioned him afterward. - -We've never said a word to Louis about the queer thing Dave told us he -saw on that rainy night nearly a month ago. At first I wanted to, but -Carol said that it would look as if we had been spying on them, and, in -thinking it over, I agreed with her. Another thing, I felt sure that if -he wanted us to know, or thought we ought to know, he'd tell us himself -and explain what it was all about. But he never has, so either he thinks -we oughtn't to know, or his folks have warned him not to speak of it. -I'm quite certain it must be the latter, because several times he has -almost been on the point of speaking of something and suddenly stopped -short, as if he remembered he oughtn't to. Dave, of course, has been as -mum as an oyster ever since. He's a dear fellow in lots of ways, but he -does act too absurdly at present about us girls. You would think we -hadn't any more sense than babies in a nursery, the way he treats -us,--not exactly unkind, but just sort of condescending and superior. -Mother says he'll grow out of it soon. He and Louis are still great -chums, but they don't see as much of each other since Dave left high -school. - -Nothing further that's strange seems to have happened over at the house -across the Green, except for one little thing. A few days before -Christmas I went over to return to Miss Yvonne a package of spice that -Mother had had to borrow in a hurry, and I found the place in the -greatest upset. Miss Yvonne seemed to be giving the whole establishment -a thorough housecleaning, which is rather strange, for she gave it the -usual autumn cleaning only this last October. I can't for the life of me -see why she wanted to do it all over again so soon. I spoke to Louis -about it next day, and he said she was having some papering and painting -done, too. - -They were all upset during the Christmas season, and had to eat their -Christmas dinner in the kitchen. Louis says it was a miserable holiday -for him, all except our party in the evening. I can't imagine why Miss -Yvonne should do such a curious thing. And Louis says she's having one -big room that they've never used fixed up in great style,--fresh, -handsome wall-paper and new furniture and a brass bed, and everything to -match. - -"Do you think she expects any visitors?" I said. - -"Why, no!" he answered, looking awfully surprised. "She hasn't said -anything about it to me." - -Then I asked him if he knew they had received a cablegram two weeks -before, and he was astonished and said that he didn't, and asked how I -knew. I told him what the Imp had said, and as soon as he heard this, he -answered: - -"It's more of that beastly mystery, Sue, and I suppose I oughtn't to -talk about it, because I've promised them I wouldn't. I hate it! _I hate -it!_" - -I never saw Louis so worked up before. But he wouldn't go on talking -about it any more,--because of his promise, I suppose,--so there matters -rest for the present. - - -New Year's Day, January 1, 1914. I just stopped a while ago to listen to -the village church-bells ring twelve o'clock. I turned out the light and -opened the window and leaned out. It all sounded very solemn, but it -would have been much more impressive if there had been a lovely white -fall of snow, with full moonlight glistening on it. Instead of that, it -was raining and everything smelled damp and drippy. I like things to -seem appropriate, but somehow they never seem to be,--at least, not the -way you read about them in books. - -While I was looking out, I happened to glance over at Louis's house and -saw such a queer thing. Way up in one of the little attic-windows there -was a light. After a moment I made out that it was from an oil-lamp that -some one was carrying about, for it didn't remain steady long at a time. -I hated to be spying on our neighbors, but I couldn't have taken my eyes -away from that sight if I'd been offered a thousand dollars. It was -_too_ uncanny. In another moment I discovered that it was Miss Yvonne -moving slowly about in front of the immense chimney that is opposite the -window, feeling carefully of every brick and picking at them with her -fingers, as if to learn if any were loose. It seemed the strangest thing -to be doing at midnight on New Year's Eve, but all of a sudden it dawned -on me that she must be trying to discover if any brick was loose -_because_--something might be hidden behind it! - -I got so excited about it that I could hardly stand still. But the next -minute the light disappeared, and I realized that she had given up the -search and gone downstairs. Whether she found what she was looking for -or not, I don't know. Probably she didn't, or she would have stayed -longer. - -After that I shut my window, lit my light, and now am finishing this. I -wonder if Carol saw what I did? She was going to look out of her window -at midnight, too. But she couldn't have seen it, I'm sure, because her -house is on the other side of Louis's, and that attic-window wouldn't -have been visible to her. My, won't I have something exciting to tell -her to-morrow! - -Mother has just opened her door and called out "Happy New Year!" to me. -She told me to put out my light and go to bed, or I'd fall asleep at -Anita Brown's party to-morrow night--no, I mean _to-night_. I guess I'll -have to end this for the present, but I don't believe I'll be able to -sleep. Life is certainly growing more and more exciting, with your -neighbors receiving mysterious cablegrams from abroad and digging in the -cellar and hunting about in the attic at midnight and all the other -curious doings. I hope it doesn't seem like prying into their affairs to -have discovered all these things. Each time it was quite by accident. -But Mother and Father have always taught us how horrid it was to be -curious about your neighbors. Well, as long as I don't deliberately pry -or talk about it to any one except Carol, I'm sure no harm will be done. - -As this is my first entry in my journal for 1914, I'll wish everybody a -"Happy New Year" and hope this will be a glorious _good_ year for every -one in the world. - - -Sue Birdsey lay on the davenport by the fire. She was covered by an -afghan and her face was propped up on a hot-water-bag. On the table near -her was a huge packet of absorbent cotton and several bottles of -medicine. Near her hand lay a book, unheeded. Unheeded, also, was the -brilliant mid-January sun streaming in at the west windows. Of what use -are books and sunlight, indeed, in the face of a raging toothache! On -the opposite side of the hearth sat Carol, disconsolately urging a -renewal of some one of the medicines. - -"It's no earthly use!" moaned Sue. "I've tried it a dozen times. Wait -till the Imp gets back with that stuff your Aunt Agatha recommended. -I'll try that, and if it doesn't stop it, I'll walk straight down to the -dentist and have it out." - -"I believe it's going to ulcerate," remarked Carol, like the "Job's -Comforter" she was always inclined to be. - -Sue's only reply was to hurl a sofa-cushion at her and subside again on -the hot-water-bag. No further remarks were exchanged. The sun sank in a -few moments and the room grew dark. Carol turned on the light and -muttered something about how long the Imp was. After a few more gloomy -moments, punctuated by groans from Sue, the door was flung open and the -Imp rushed in, bringing a blast of chilly air with her. - -"Here it is!" she cried. "I had to wait an awful while for him to get it -ready. You fix her up, Cad." - -While Carol administered the remedy according to directions, the Imp -straightened out the rumpled afghan and refilled the hot-water-bag. She -could be singularly helpful in case of sickness or an emergency, and -seemed actually to delight in being of use,--a change of demeanor that -never failed to astonish the other two girls. So accustomed were they to -regard the Imp as their sworn enemy that this angelic demeanor quite -disarmed them. - -Five minutes after the remedy had been applied Sue sat up with a jerk. - -"Hurrah! The pain's all gone. It went like magic. I feel like a new -creature. No more of this for me!" She rose from the couch, pushing away -the signs of her temporary invalidism. "Imp, you certainly are a trump. -Come, Carol, let's get at our work for to-morrow." - -Ten minutes later they were busy at the long table, and the Imp again -settled on the couch, apparently deep in a book. It was Sue who looked -up after a while, to find her eyeing them with the pleased, quiet, -provoking smile whose meaning they had come to know so well. The desire -to investigate its cause proved, as usual, irresistible. - -"What are you grinning at, Bobs?" Sue demanded. "You look as pleased as -Punch. Anything happened?" It was well always to placate her by -appearing agreeable. - -"Oh, nothing special!" she replied, in a manner that made them perfectly -certain there was something very special. "I happened to notice a while -ago that an automobile drove up to Louis's gate, and that Miss Yvonne -got out and began to give the chauffeur a regular tongue-lashing in -French, because he'd driven up from the station over the joltiest road, -instead of taking the smooth one. He doesn't understand French, so he -didn't in the least get what she was driving at. It made me laugh." - -"But what under the sun was Miss Yvonne coming up from the station in -an automobile for?" Carol exclaimed. "She hasn't been away. She hasn't -even been to Bridgeton, for I've seen her around early this afternoon. -She always walks up from the village. You must be crazy." - -"She walked down to the village about four o'clock," the Imp informed -them. "I saw her start off. And I guess she had good reason to come back -in an auto." The Imp went on reading after this, just as if she hadn't -any idea that she was driving them wild. - -"Well, what _was_ the reason?" inquired Sue, trying to look only mildly -interested. "Was she ill, or did she have a lot of bundles to carry, or -was she in a great hurry?" - -"I'll tell you the reason," answered the Imp, "if you'll give me that -nice, fat, new blank-book you bought the other day. It's worth it, too." - -"I'll do nothing of the sort!" Sue cried indignantly. "I have a special -use for that book,"--as a matter of fact, she was going to re-copy her -journal in it--"and I'll find out some other way." - -"You won't find out anything before to-morrow afternoon, probably," the -Imp returned, "for Louis isn't going to school. He told me so." - -Sue made up her mind that she wasn't going to give in to her, but Carol -broke up that intention. - -"Oh, give it to her!" she whispered. "I've another just as good that you -can have. And I'm wild to hear what's up across the Green." - -Sue handed the blank-book across to the Imp, and said, as witheringly as -she could: - -"Here, take it, if you want it as badly as that! Of course you know -you're taking a mean advantage of us, but that's nothing to you. Fire -away!" - -"I thought you couldn't wait till to-morrow," the Imp retorted. "Well, -here goes. Miss Yvonne rode up in an auto because--she had some one with -her." - -"Who _was_ it?" cried Carol impatiently. "Don't dole out your -information in little drops. Tell us the rest." - -"I didn't ask the person's name," said the Imp, in that maddeningly -polite way she sometimes assumed. "It didn't seem any affair of mine." - -"Naturally," Sue answered, as calmly as she could. "We'd only be much -obliged to know whether it was a man, woman, girl, boy, or baby. Please -remember you've got the book and that you haven't paid for it yet." - -"I always pay my debts," she answered, trying not to giggle, "and I only -agreed to tell you the reason why Miss Yvonne came up in the auto. I've -done that. But since you're so hard up for information, I'll hand out a -little more small change--just because I'm sorry for you. It was a man, -a very old man, all wrapped up in a big fur coat." - -"Did Louis know he was coming?" Carol demanded. - -"Oh, no! Louis didn't know," answered the Imp, "but I did; for I heard -Miss Yvonne telling old Mr. Meadows yesterday, when they were out by -the barn, that all was ready for 'Monsieur's' arrival to-morrow." - -"You're a mean little thing to be always eavesdropping about," cried -Sue, "and meaner yet never to tell us a word of what you hear." - -"You're quite mistaken if you think I eavesdrop, as you call it," -retorted the Imp indignantly. "I was in plain sight all the time -yesterday, patching up that snow-fort of Louis's, and they both saw me. -Only Miss Yvonne spoke in French, and I guess she doesn't know that I -understand it. As for not telling you two anything, I'd like to know why -I should. You never tell anything to me, that is, if you can possibly -help it." This was entirely true, as they were bound to confess. - -The Imp took up her book and marched huffily to the door. But before she -left the room she turned and called back: - -"It's a thankless job trying to be nice to you two. You're absolutely -ungrateful. And I'll tell you right now, I know one piece of -information, besides all this, that you'd give your eye-teeth to -hear,--but you won't. It's about who this mysterious 'monsieur' _is_!" - -With that she went out, slamming the door behind her. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE MYSTERIOUS "MONSIEUR" - - -There had been a heavy fall of snow during the night. It lay on trees -and hedges in great, powdery clumps, and drifted over the Green in huge, -wind-swept hillocks. But the sky that afternoon was blue and cloudless, -and the click of snow-shovels rang out on the still air. In front of the -Birdseys' gate Carol and Sue were frantically shoveling a footway, not -because they had to, but for the sheer joy of exercise in the -invigorating air. - -"It's queer we haven't seen anything of Louis since that visitor came," -commented Carol. "He's missing a lot of time at school, and I'm sure he -hates that." - -"Yes, it's three days since 'Monsieur,' as the Imp calls him, came. We -haven't seen anything of _him_, either," added Sue. "Do you suppose -he's going to stay shut up and invisible all the time? Who do you -suppose he is, anyway, and doesn't it make you furious to think that the -Imp knows, or says she does, and that we don't?" - -"There's Louis now," was Carol's only reply. "He's just come out to -shovel his walk," and she waved her own shovel to him in greeting. - -In another moment Louis had strolled over to join them. He was of medium -height, a slenderly-built fellow, with short-cropped, wavy, chestnut -hair and fine brown eyes. He also possessed a smile that was peculiarly -winning. - -"Hello, you strangers! I thought you'd be out this afternoon. Isn't it -ripping weather?" he greeted them. "Where's Dave?" - -"He's gone to Bridgeton with Father," answered Sue, "but where have -_you_ been all this time? Not sick, I hope?" - -The boy's face clouded and he dug his shovel viciously into a snowbank. - -"No, not sick, but dilly-dallying around the house, helping to wait on -that old gentleman. They don't seem to care how much time I lose." - -It was the first time the girls had ever heard him speak so bitterly. - -"We heard that you had a visitor," said Carol, striving hard to seem -only politely interested. - -"Oh, we have a visitor, all right, but I'm blest if I know why he's -taken up his abode with us, nor even who he is, for that matter." - -At this rather astonishing statement both girls looked somewhat -startled. - -"I know it sounds queer to say it," went on the boy, "and I'm not sure -they'd thank me for saying it, either, but it's the honest truth, and -I've got to say it to some one, or I'll explode with indignation." - -"But what do you call him, if you don't know who he is?" queried Sue. - -"Well, he _says_ his name is Monsieur de Vaubert, but I strongly doubt -it. I found his handkerchief lying on a chair yesterday, and it had the -initial F on it. Later I asked Aunt Yvonne what his first name was, and -she said 'Philippe.' So can you figure out where F comes in? I can't." - -"All that Aunt and Uncle will tell me about him," he went on, "is that -he is a descendant of an old friend of my father's family in France; -that he has always been much interested in me and has come over here to -visit and make my acquaintance. It sounds all right as far as it goes, -but I'm morally certain that that isn't the whole of it. They treat him -as if he were some sort of high mogul, and he treats them in the most -politely condescending manner you ever saw. But the way he acts toward -me is a caution. In some ways you'd think I was the Grand Lama of Tibet, -and that he was my most humble slave. Then at other times he gets so -dictatorial about my studies and work and the way I spend my time that I -just have to hold on to something to prevent going up in the air. I -confess that I don't know what he's driving at, and I could chew his -head off sometimes, I get so mad. And yet in other ways he's a fine old -chap, and I can't help but admire him. Here he comes now. He said he -would come out a few moments this afternoon." - -They all looked across the Green as he spoke, to see the figure of an -elderly gentleman, very much muffled up in a fur coat, slowly pacing -down the walk. He seemed about seventy-five years of age, and he walked -with a visible stoop, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent -slightly forward. His eyes were black and piercing, and his hair and -mustache were almost white. His nose was sharp and eagle-like, and his -whole appearance was very distinguished and foreign. Both Sue and Carol -were decidedly impressed. - -"Well," added Louis, "I must go back and be polite, I suppose, and also -shovel my walk. By the way, I'll be over at your house, Sue, to-morrow -evening, if it's convenient, and get some idea from you girls of what -I've been missing at high school all this week. Tell Dave I'll spend an -hour or two with him afterward. So long!" - -After he had left them the girls went on with their shoveling, but they -could not, for the life of them, keep from gazing occasionally across at -the mysterious stranger on the other side of the Green. They saw Louis -return and speak to him for several moments, pacing along at his side, -and later he left him to commence a vigorous attack on an unshoveled -path. - -Then they saw a curious thing. Monsieur de Vaubert, stopping short in -his pacing, stared almost aghast at Louis. Next, striding up to him and -snatching the shovel from his hand, he spoke loudly and rapidly in -French, as if in remonstrance. They heard Louis expostulating in the -same language and exhibiting every sign of disagreement and dismay. At -length he shrugged his shoulders hopelessly and turned to go into the -house, leaving Monsieur to continue his pacing alone. - -"Well!" exclaimed Carol. "What on earth do you make of _that_?" - -"It looks very much as if 'Monsieur' didn't approve of Louis's -snow-shoveling," commented Sue, wonderingly. "But why? Do you know, I -believe he thinks Louis is delicate and oughtn't to exert himself. What -a crazy idea! Louis is really as strong as an ox, even if he is slender. -He can throw Dave at wrestling every time, even if he is lighter in -weight. I can imagine how furious it must make Louis to be coddled that -way." - -They went on digging industriously. Suddenly Carol whispered to Sue: - -"For pity's sake, look at that!" - -It was the Imp, who had evidently walked up from the village and was -just passing Louis's house. On beholding the visitor still pacing up and -down the walk in the sunlight, she had called out, "_Bon jour, -Monsieur!_" She had been answered by the most courtly of bows, and "_Bon -jour, petite Mademoiselle Hélène._" Then she passed on, turning the -corner of the Green toward her own house. - -The two girls stared at each other, speechless. - -"Will you tell me how under the sun she came to know him?" gasped Sue, -indignantly. "And she never has said a single word to us about it!" - -"Don't ask me," returned Carol. "Find out from her, if you can. She's -the most exasperating mortal I ever came across." - -The Imp came on gaily, waving to them as affably as if she were quite -unaware of the shock she had just given them. They did not acknowledge -her salute,--a mistake they were sorry for later. - -"How long is it since you became acquainted with 'Monsieur'?" demanded -Sue, as soon as she had joined them. She did not try to keep annoyance -out of her voice. - -"Oh, a whole twenty-four hours has elapsed since the event!" grinned the -Imp, more impishly than usual. "Didn't I tell you?" - -"You know perfectly well that you didn't!" cried Sue. - -"Well, I'm sorry,--since it seems to worry you so much. Louis introduced -us yesterday afternoon. We met just outside of Louis' gate. Monsieur was -taking the air just before the snow began, and, as it happened, so was -I. You two might have been, also, if you hadn't felt so lazy and hung -about the fire indoors." As usual, she had hit them on the raw. They -might have known it! - -"I think he is quite charming," went on the Imp amiably. "We had a long -talk. He praised my French accent, and says that he prefers to call me -'Mademoiselle Hélène,' instead of 'Bobs' or 'Bobbie' or even 'Roberta.' -He asked me a lot of questions about this place and the village and all -that, and finally he told me why he came here." - -"He _did_?" gasped the two girls. "What was the reason?" At that moment -they could have hugged her for seeming so communicative. - -"I'll tell you," she answered with dangerous sweetness. "He came over to -see Louis!" Their faces fell, but they tried hard not to show their -indignation. - -"Of course," agreed Sue, "but _why_ did he come over here to see Louis? -That's the question." - -"If I told you _that_, I wouldn't have any interesting secret of my -own," answered the Imp loftily. - -Then, feeling her revenge complete, she sped away into the house, -leaving the puzzled and indignant pair behind her. - - -January 20, 1914. Louis told us the _strangest_ thing to-night. I must -write about it before I go to bed. It makes this mystery about the queer -old gentleman at his house deeper and deeper. He came over (Louis, I -mean) to our house to-night, as he said he would yesterday. But he -seemed perfectly furious about something, and instead of wanting to -study, he said he'd just have to tell us what had happened, or burst. -Fortunately, Carol and I were alone. If the Imp had been around, I just -couldn't have stood having her hear everything that we did. She knows -too much already,--sometimes I think a great deal more than we -do,--about all this, and I'm glad to get ahead of her on something. -Anyhow, this is what Louis told us: - -"This morning was the limit," he began. "I thought I'd take a spell at -working on that little motor-boat I'm building in the old feed-room at -the back of the barn. I haven't done much at it lately, because the -weather's been so cold. But to-day was mild, and I thought I could make -a lot of progress. You know I've saved up enough of my pocket-money for -the engine, and I'm going to send for it next month. Well, what must -Monsieur do, but trail out to the barn after me. I couldn't very well -prevent him, so I let him come along, but I didn't explain what I was -doing there till we got into the room. - -"And, if you'll believe it, no sooner did he lay eyes on that cedar -hull, and realize that it was my work, than he flew into a towering -passion. He stamped around the room, muttering a lot of things in French -that even I couldn't understand, though I caught the expression, 'The -blood of that mechanic--_always_--_always!_' repeated several times. I -was simply speechless with astonishment, and just stood staring at him -open-mouthed. - -"All of a sudden he raised his cane and hit the boat a horrible whack -right on the gunwale. It made a dent that I don't suppose any amount of -tinkering or painting will ever remove. Then I 'saw red,' as they say. -The idea of his presuming to do such a beastly thing! I just rushed at -him, tore the cane from his hand, and threw it straight through the -window. It smashed the glass and sash and everything. And I shouted, -'How dare you! How dare you!' I guess I was really too furious to think -what I was doing. But it had the strangest effect on Monsieur. - -"He stopped suddenly, and his face, from being a brick-red with anger, -went perfectly white. He drew himself up in a sort of military way, as -stiff as a poker, and then bowed very low and made a military salute. 'I -beg a thousand pardons, Monsieur. I am deeply sorry!' he said. I asked -him what in the world he meant, anyway, but he only kept repeating that -he was 'deeply humiliated at his fit of temper,' and begged me to think -no more of it. Then I asked him if he didn't approve of my making the -boat, and he said, 'No; that I was cut out for something better than -that laborer's work.' - -"That remark made me madder than ever, and I asked him if it was not a -good piece of work, and oughtn't any one to be proud of doing a thing -like that so well. He only replied that I had far other things to be -proud of, but I noticed that he didn't say what. So I just faced him. - -"'Look here,' I said. 'Just tell me one thing, like a man, won't you? -What are you here for, anyway? Am I the descendant of some duke or -marquis or that sort of thing, and are you here to try to get me to go -back to France and be one myself?' You see, what Carol said the other -day sort of stuck in my crop, and that boat business rather confirmed -it. I went on to say to him, 'Because if that's so, you needn't bother. -I won't go!' - -"He didn't say a word for a minute or two. He just stood staring at me -as if he'd never seen me before. Then he said, very quietly: - -"'No, Monsieur. You are quite mistaken. It is something vastly -different, and I cannot explain it now. You must be content to wait. -But, be assured, it will both astonish and delight you when it is -disclosed.' And with that he walked off and took to his bed again, I -guess, for I haven't seen him since. But I've been 'hot under the -collar' ever since at the damage he did to my boat." - -"Well, all that is mighty strange," I said, another idea suddenly -dawning on me. "He doesn't seem to want you to do any work. Was that why -he objected to you shoveling snow yesterday?" - -"The very thing," replied Louis. "I was astonished when he said to me, -'Where is that Meadows and his servant? Why are you required to do this -menial work?' I tried to explain to him that I liked it and was doing it -for exercise, but he simply couldn't understand. He kept exclaiming, 'It -is not fitting!' till I got so disgusted that I gave it up. If this sort -of thing keeps up, I'll run away to sea or do something desperate. I -declare I will!" - -"Are you glad, Louis, that you're not a duke or a marquis or anything -like that?" I asked. "I should think you'd have thought it fine." - -"I'd simply detest it, Sue," he answered. "I don't want to be anything -but an American citizen--_ever!_ But if this mystery business doesn't -clear up soon, I'll be a raving lunatic." - - -Well, I'm disappointed myself to have Carol's nice theory all knocked to -pieces, for it would have been so romantic and unusual. But if it isn't -that, what on earth _can_ it be? - -And _how_ much does that wretched little Imp know? - - - - -CHAPTER V - -TWO ACCIDENTS AND A MYSTERY - - -February 17. I'm writing this under a good deal of difficulty, for my -left hand is in a sling and this blank-book slips around dreadfully. The -truth is that I had quite an accident the other day, and have been laid -up ever since. It was the day after I last wrote in my journal. We'd had -a heavy fall of snow overnight, followed by a hard frost. The coasting -on Eastward Hill was gorgeous, and we spent the whole of the next -afternoon there. Just at the last the Imp suggested that we try the -slide down the north slope of the hill. It's ever so much steeper than -the one we usually take, and is considered rather dangerous. - -Louis said we'd better not, but the Imp begged so hard that we agreed to -try it just once. So Louis took Carol on his bobsled, and the Imp and I -had the other. She was steering, because she's awfully good at that. -They went first, and we followed. Everything went finely at the start. -It's the most exciting thing going down that steep slide, and I was just -enjoying it when suddenly something went wrong. I'm not sure yet just -what it was, but the Imp says there must have been a buried branch or -something under one of our runners. - -Anyhow, the first I knew I was lying with my head in a snowbank and my -left arm doubled under me in the queerest manner. The Imp had been -landed in the bank, too, but she wasn't a bit hurt and was up in a -jiffy, dragging me out. First I thought I was all right, but when I -stood up my left arm began to hurt me so that I thought I'd die with the -pain of it. They put me on one of the sleds and hustled me home in a -hurry, and Louis went for the doctor. - -He said it was only a sprain, but that I must stay in the house for a -while and take good care of it. So here I've been ever since. The Imp -has been an angel. That sounds funny, but I mean it! She nearly died of -remorse at having been the cause of my accident, and she can't do enough -for me. She waits on me hand and foot, and hasn't teased or been a bit -exasperating once. To show how angelic she can be, I must write what she -told me yesterday. She came in from a walk to the village, where she'd -been to get me some grapefruit, and announced: - -"What do you think? I walked back most of the way with Monsieur. His -things have come." - -"What things?" I asked, astonished, for I knew that his trunks came the -day after he arrived. - -"Oh, didn't you know? A few things he brought with him. Two or three -pictures and a big lot of books." - -"But what did he bring over things like that for?" I demanded. "If he's -only here for a visit, it's rather queer for him to be carting books and -pictures about with him. I shouldn't think he'd be staying long enough -to make it worth while." - -"I think he's going to stay quite a long while," the Imp replied. -"Perhaps it will be a year or more, judging from what he says." - -"How do you know all this?" I asked. It aroused all the old, jealous -feeling again to think that she knew so much more about it than I did. - -"Why, this way. You see, we were walking up together, and we'd got about -as far as Louis's gate when we both noticed a cart, with those things -piled on it, standing there. Miss Yvonne was talking to the driver. -Monsieur suddenly said, 'Ah, my things have come! That is well!' Then he -turned to me and said, 'They are my most precious possessions. I never -travel far without them.' I said it was too bad that they'd been delayed -so long getting here from the steamer. For you know he's been here -nearly a month. Then he said, 'They were not delayed, Mademoiselle -Hélène. I did not send for them at once because--I was not sure I should -stay. Now I feel that my stay may be long.' - -"Wasn't that queer?" added the Imp. "Why do you suppose he first -thought he mightn't stay long, and then decided that he would?" - -"Perhaps he likes it here better than he thought he would," I suggested. - -"Nothing of the sort!" answered the Imp. "He hates it. He told me the -climate was abominable. He didn't see how any one could exist in it." - -"Then it must be because he likes the Meadows' and Louis so much," I -decided. - -"I don't think that has anything to do with it," replied the Imp. "I'm -certain it's something else. He's staying on because things haven't gone -the way he'd planned. If they had, he'd have gone right home. I've -figured that much out about him." - -We didn't have any more time for talk just then, for Mother came in to -say that dinner was ready. But I've been thinking and thinking ever -since about what the Imp told me. She was never so communicative with me -before. It's worth while to have a damaged arm, but I wonder how long it -will last. I wish Carol were over here right now, so that I could tell -her. But she has a cold, and I haven't seen her for two days. - -It has seemed rather curious to me, right along, that we young folks -were the only ones who seemed interested in Louis's affair and the new -visitor. I wondered why. But something that was said at table last night -made me realize that we are, after all, the only ones who know much of -the _inside_ of that affair. For instance, Mother said to Father: - -"Who is that queer old gentleman visiting across the Green? He seems -like a foreigner." - -"Monsieur something-or-other," Father answered. "I didn't catch his -name, though Louis tried to introduce us the other day, when they were -passing where I was working in the north pasture. I've never quite -understood the Meadows' household, anyway. They seem queer and -foreign--all but Louis. He is a true American boy. I've often wondered -where John Meadows hailed from. He brought Louis here as a small baby, -and I never knew where he came from. He would never say much about it. -By the way, Simpson wrote that we could have that new fertilizer next -month." - -And that's all they thought or cared about it. But, at any rate, their -conversation had given me one bit of news--about Louis having been -brought here as a little baby, and that folks didn't know the Meadows' -people before. I'd always supposed that they had lived here all along, -too. I wonder if Louis knows this? I wonder if I had better tell him? I -don't know. Somehow that, and the news the Imp brought to-day, has made -me feel about as mixed up as possible. I can't make head or tail of -anything. I wish Carol were here. - -I've just been looking over this journal from the beginning, noticing -all the queer things that have come up about Louis since I began it. I -think I'll put them down in order and see if it will help me to make -anything out of the strange situation. - -First, the queer way that Louis's folks have always treated him and the -fact that he isn't any real relation. That looks to me very much as if -his antecedents or his forefathers or whatever you call them must have -been of some different station of life from the Meadows people. And yet -Louis says their families have always been old friends. At any rate, -they must feel, for some reason, responsible for him to some one, or -they wouldn't be so careful about him. By the way, that some one must be -"Monsieur"; who else _could_ it be? - -Next there were those mysterious cablegrams. Of course they were from -"Monsieur," but what did he mean by saying, "The time is ripe"? Sounds -as if some sort of plot was being hatched. And then about those papers. -_What_ are they, and _where_ are they? Have they anything to do with -Louis? I suppose they must. Does Louis himself know anything about them? -He has never said a word to us. - -Besides, there was that queer performance when Miss Yvonne had Louis dig -in the cellar at night. I'm simply positive she must have been hunting -for the papers then, and also on New Year's Eve in the attic. I believe -they must be documents to prove that Louis is to come into a great -fortune, perhaps one that his ancestors left him. Yes, that's a brand -new idea, and I'm certain it's nearer the truth than anything we've -thought of yet. "Monsieur" is probably the family lawyer in France, and -has come to straighten everything out. Hurrah! I do wish Carol was here, -so that we could talk this over. It's a much more sensible idea than the -one that Louis is the descendant of some titled person. It would explain -a number of things,--why "Monsieur" doesn't like Louis to do any work, -and that sort of thing. And probably, too, that's why they would like -him to go back to France and be a statesman, since he can't be a duke or -a marquis and flourish around with the nobility. I suppose it's the next -best thing, in their estimation. - -It might even explain, too, why "Monsieur" expects to make so long a -stay here to get things all straightened out. Oh, I'm so glad I thought -of this! I can hardly wait for to-morrow to come, so that I can tell -Carol. And I believe I'll even tell the Imp, too. She's been so decent -to me of late that I'm willing to do 'most anything for her. - - -"Ahoy, girls! Come over and see the big smash!" - -It was the Imp who thus hailed the two girls as they were coming home -from the village one Saturday afternoon early in March. She was one of a -group that was standing in Louis's front yard, and the girls hurried -over to see what it was all about. They found that a fine old -cherry-tree had been half blown over by a high wind the night before, -and now it threatened to fall at the slightest jar. Its fall would do -serious damage to the fence near which it stood. Louis had decided to -chop it down so that it would fall in the opposite direction. It was not -the first time that he had had the experience, and he rather enjoyed the -thought of the task before him. It was quite evident, however, that -"Monsieur" did not at all approve of this scheme. He paced back and -forth on the path, muttering impatiently to himself in French and -occasionally urging Louis to be extremely careful. - -As this was the first time that either Sue or Carol had met "Monsieur," -Louis stopped long enough to make the introductions. Monsieur bowed -formally and murmured that he was "charmed to meet mesdemoiselles," but -there his interest in them ended, and he continued to pace back and -forth and mutter to himself. - -Once the Imp poked Sue and whispered: - -"He says, 'Always, always this servant's work!' He's been having a fit -about this ever since they came out. But Louis was determined to get it -done. Monsieur certainly does make him mad and nervous, though." - -The tree was almost ready to topple over, when an unfortunate thing -happened. It may have been that Louis _was_ nervous, or that his foot -slipped on a patch of ice, or that it was a combination of both. At any -rate, just as the ax was raised for one of his most telling blows, he -missed his aim and brought it down directly on his left foot. With a -slight groan, he dropped to the ground. An instant later blood began to -pour from the wound in sickening spurts. So sudden had it all been, that -his watchers hardly realized what had happened till the spouting blood -revealed the accident. - -Immediately all was confusion. Monsieur uttered a cry that was almost a -scream and, stooping down, tried to lift Louis in his arms. Miss Yvonne -rushed out, wringing her hands and screaming, too, in her excitable -French fashion. Old Mr. Meadows raised the parlor-window and stood -calling out all sorts of impossible directions, half in French and half -in English. Carol turned as white as a sheet and looked as if she were -going to faint away. She usually did at the sight of blood. Only the Imp -seemed to have any sense left. She called out to Carol: - -"You run to our house and telephone for any doctor you can get, either -in the village or at Bridgeton!" - -Then she said to Monsieur: - -"Please let Louis alone. He'll bleed to death if you lift him that way." - -Lastly she turned to Miss Yvonne: - -"Don't you think that between us we could manage to carry Louis into -the house? I'll hold his poor foot so that it won't bleed so much." - -It was almost absurd to hear that small child giving everybody orders, -but it was rather fine, too. And somehow it restored them to their -senses. Carol went flying off to telephone, only too glad to get away. -Miss Yvonne stopped screaming and lifted Louis in her strong arms, while -Sue held his head and Monsieur his uninjured foot. - -Louis had fainted by this time. The Imp held his injured foot in such a -way that as little blood as possible escaped. Sue admitted later that -she would scarcely have had the nerve to do it, even if she had been -able. She was very much hampered, because her left arm was still in a -sling, so that all she could do was to hold up the boy's head with her -right hand. - -Somehow or other they got Louis into the house. Monsieur insisted that -they carry him up to his (Monsieur's) room, though the others thought it -would have been better to take him to his own room on the ground floor. -But Monsieur would have his way, and they got Louis there somehow. By -the time they had laid him in the big brass bed, Carol came flying back -to say that she couldn't reach a single doctor in town. Every one was -out. But she had managed to get a promise from Dr. Langmaid in Bridgeton -that he would come over directly in his car, as soon as he could leave a -serious surgical case that he was treating in his office. - -Meanwhile Louis's foot was still bleeding horribly. Something had to be -done at once. Miss Yvonne had got his shoe and stocking off and was -bathing the horrid wound, but that didn't help much. No one but Sue -seemed to know how to stop the bleeding and she was practically helpless -because of her hand. The reason she knew was because she had just -finished a course of "First Aid to the Injured" lectures that had been -given to the Young Girls' Club in school by a trained nurse. Carol -didn't take the course, because she hated all that kind of thing and it -made her sick. But Sue had enjoyed it. One of the principal things she -had learned was about the tourniquet and bandaging. But how was she to -do anything with only one hand? Suddenly the idea that she could give -the Imp directions and let _her_ do it dawned on Sue. The Imp was so -quick that she would understand in a wink. - -So Sue asked Miss Yvonne if she'd tear up a sheet for some bandages, and -told the Imp that if she'd do as she told her, she thought they could -stop the bleeding. Miss Yvonne went right to work, and the Imp followed -Sue's directions well, while the latter did what she could with one -hand. They used a buttonhook for a tourniquet, and in five minutes -Louis's foot was bandaged roughly and not bleeding any more. Monsieur -had been spending the time in bathing Louis's head and holding ammonia -to his nose. Presently Louis came to and tried to ask what was the -matter. But they made him stop talking, because he was so weak from loss -of blood. - -After that there wasn't anything to do but wait for the doctor, so they -sat around the room, not talking and all looking nervous and -embarrassed. - -At last Dr. Langmaid arrived. He came jumping upstairs two steps at a -time. After he had taken one look at Louis's foot, he said: - -"Whoever did that bandaging had good common sense. Perhaps it saved his -life." - -That was all, but it made Sue feel proud for the Imp. The Imp, however, -declared that it was Sue's work, for she would never have known how to -do it herself. At any rate, after that the doctor turned out every one -but Miss Yvonne, and they stayed there with Louis for an age, while all -the rest waited downstairs for news. At last the doctor came down and -told them that Louis had almost severed an artery, but that he had -broken no bones. He sewed up the wound and left directions that Louis -was to stay in bed for some time and have careful attention, lest -blood-poisoning set in. But he said it was a miracle that nothing worse -had happened, and left his compliments for the two young ladies who did -the bandaging. At which the Imp and Sue pinched each other and took -their departure. - -It was after they had left the house and were walking across the Green -to their own home, their knees still shaking with the excitement they -had experienced, that the Imp remarked: - -"Did you see the queer thing that hung on 'Monsieur's' wall, right -opposite to the bed?" - -"Why, no," answered Sue. "That is, I suppose I did, but I was so nervous -and worried that I can't remember anything about it. I hardly took my -eyes from Louis. What was it, anyway?" - -"Three pictures, but the only one that I could see was the middle one. -It was a life-sized picture of a little boy about six or seven, I should -think. He had big brown eyes and brown wavy hair, and was quite a pretty -little chap, but he was dressed awfully queerly. I guess the picture -must be quite old, for his clothes weren't like anything that's been -worn for years. I wonder why 'Monsieur' carts it around and has it -hanging there. Must be some relation, I suppose, or some child of whom -he was very fond." - -"But I thought you said his clothes were so queer and old-timey," -suggested Sue. "I imagined from the way you spoke that they must be of a -fashion more than a hundred years old." - -"I guess they were, too," admitted the Imp. "I had thought that perhaps -the boy was a son or a brother, but I guess he was from way before -_that_ time." - -"Must be some famous ancestor, then," said Sue. "By the way, what did -you mean by saying that the boy's picture was the only one you could -see? If the three pictures were all hanging on the wall at the foot of -the bed, you could see the other two just as well, I should think." - -"No, I couldn't; and for a very queer reason," replied the Imp darkly. - -"Oh, for gracious sake, don't begin to tease!" cried Sue impatiently, -suspecting that the Imp was up to one of her usual tricks. "Things have -been so exciting, and you've been such a dear, that I hate to have you -spoil it by beginning that 'mysterious' business." - -"But it _was_ mysterious," argued the Imp, "and you'd have seen it for -yourself, if you'd only had your eyes about you." - -"Well, what was it?" sighed Sue. "I'm afraid you're making a whole lot -out of nothing." - -"I'm _not_!" cried the Imp. "And I'll prove it this minute. I _couldn't_ -see those two other pictures because--they both had a heavy, dark silk -covering of some kind stretched completely over them, frames and all! -_Now_ will you believe me?" - -At this curious bit of information even doubting Sue had to admit that -the Imp was right. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -IN MONSIEUR'S ROOM - - -March 8, 1914. I thought the last entries in this journal were pretty -exciting, with two accidents to tell about, but they were just nothing -to what's been happening since. My arm is all right again; no trouble at -all, except for a slight stiffness. So that's all about that. But -_Louis_! - -For the first two days after his accident he seemed to be doing nicely. -None of us saw him, for the doctor had ordered that he be kept very -quiet. When we went to inquire, Miss Yvonne said he was better and in no -pain, and that he wanted to see us all, but that he must be quiet for a -while. Then, on the third day, her face was very grave. - -"He has fever," she said. "It is not high, but the doctor is not -pleased. Louis is restless, and his foot is swollen. We are all anxious -about him." - -I repeated her words to Father, and he said: - -"Poor boy! Blood-poisoning, probably. I'm sorry for him. Was that ax -very rusty?" - -I replied that it was, for I remember that Louis remarked about it at -the time and said he could do better work if the ax was cleaned and was -sharper. Father shook his head and said they'd have to keep a careful -watch on him now. - -Next day matters became worse. From then till this evening we have been -frightfully anxious, and the Meadows' family and Monsieur grew almost -frantic. It was blood-poisoning, and the doctor said it was so bad that -he doubted if he could save Louis's foot. At that, Monsieur sent -post-haste to the city for a famous surgeon, and after days of working -over him Louis is to-night pronounced out of danger. When I went over -this evening to get the news, Miss Yvonne cried when she told me. I -cried, too, and I saw Monsieur coming downstairs, his eyes suspiciously -moist. What a relief! - -They have had two trained nurses, and one of them will stay till Louis -is much stronger. Miss Yvonne is quite worn out with work and worry, and -she looks like a shadow of herself. Old Mr. Meadows appears to have -grown ten years older in a week, and seems very feeble. As for Monsieur, -in the few glimpses I've had of him he looks as if he hadn't had a wink -of sleep for four days. As a matter of fact, I heard that he hadn't gone -to bed and slept since Louis became so ill,--just napped while sitting -in a chair. - -I haven't slept well myself, and neither has Carol. Even the Imp has -been very much concerned. She continues to be awfully decent to us, but -I wonder how much longer it will last. Not long, I'm pretty sure, after -Louis is well again. I know her too thoroughly to be deceived into -thinking she has turned over a new leaf for good! - -Now for bed and a long, peaceful sleep for the first time in a week! - - -March 13. To-day, for the first time, I have seen Louis. He was much -better, and he wanted to see us so much that Miss Yvonne sent over the -servant to tell us that we three could come over (Dave had gone -yesterday), but that we all had better not see him at once. Carol and -the Imp and I went over. One by one we were allowed to go up to the -room. But we were warned that no one must stay more than five minutes, -and that we mustn't talk to Louis about anything exciting. - -Carol went first, but she didn't stay anywhere near her five minutes, -for I timed her by the parlor clock. It seemed as if she had scarcely -had time to go up and walk into the room before she must have walked out -again. She came down looking awfully solemn and scared, and whispered: - -"He looks awful,--as if he'd been _so_ sick! I was frightened. The -trained nurse was there, and Monsieur, too. I didn't know what on earth -to say, so I didn't stay but a minute." - -Then the Imp went up, and I guess she was more successful, for she -stayed two minutes over her time. We heard her say, "Hello, old sport!" -as she entered the room, and we even heard a sound like Louis's laugh. -Then there was a great chattering in French, and I knew that she and -Monsieur were talking together. When she came down she said that -Monsieur had been thanking her for what she did on the day of the -accident, and that she had been trying to convince him she hadn't done -anything, except to obey my directions. He wouldn't stand for that, -however, and insisted that she had been the means of saving Louis's -life. Nothing she could say would persuade him differently. - -Then it came my turn, and I went up with my knees shaking, like the -silly goose I am, for there was nothing on earth to be afraid of. But -somehow it always did seem a solemn thing to me to see a person for the -first time after he has been so near to death. But they shook worse when -I got into the room and saw how really awful Louis looked. He is like a -thin shadow of his former self, and _so_ white and hollow-eyed. He's -never been sick before, to any extent, so I never dreamed he could look -like that. - -I murmured something or other to Louis,--I can't remember what,--and -then Monsieur began to thank me in very elaborate and formal English for -what I had done on the day of the accident. I tried to answer that it -wasn't anything, and I could easily see that he didn't think it _was_ so -much, compared to what the Imp had done. But Louis spoke up in the -weakest voice, and declared: - -"Sue is a trump! _I_ know what she did, for I wasn't unconscious _all_ -of the time. Between them they patched me up beautifully." - -But Monsieur wasn't much impressed. It's plain to be seen that the Imp -is _his_ favorite. I don't care a scrap, however, since Louis said what -he did! - -Well, I couldn't think of another thing to say, so I bade Louis good-bye -and took my departure. But before I left the room I snatched a good long -look at those pictures. I've been thinking of them constantly, ever -since that first day, and longing to see them. It certainly was queer -to see those two so tightly covered. There's something about the one of -the boy that haunts me, though. I don't know why. Carol and I have -talked it over and over, and we can't make it out. The trouble is that -she practically hasn't seen it at all. That day of the accident she -didn't come into the room, for she was telephoning the doctor. She -didn't want to come in, anyway, because she knew she couldn't stand it. -And to-day she only caught the smallest glimpse of it, because she was -so upset when she came out of the room. - -The nurse says that next time we go to see Louis we can probably stay a -little longer, if he continues to improve. - - -March 15. We all went in again to-day. Monsieur was not there, to -Carol's and my great relief, but the nurse was. I warned Carol -beforehand to take a good look at the portrait this time, and she did. -She says she feels as I do about it, as if she'd seen it, or some one -like it, somewhere before. And yet she's _sure_ she hasn't, really. I -don't understand it. - -Louis is beginning to make all sorts of plans about what he will do when -he's well again. He's wild at having to be away from school and lose so -much time, but we've promised to keep all our notes for him, and that -will help a lot when he goes back. - -The Imp has returned to her old tricks again. I knew she would when the -excitement was over. She told me that she met Monsieur on her way to -school this morning, and that she walked all the way to the village with -him. He was going down to get some medicine for Louis. But she startled -me to pieces when she added: - -"I asked him who that nice little boy was whose picture he had in his -room. He said he'd tell me if I'd promise to keep it a secret. I said -that I certainly would, cross my heart." - -"So he told you?" I asked, trying not to act as if I cared a bit. - -"Why, certainly," the Imp answered, with that wicked gleam in her eye. -"He did as he said he would. I'd be glad to tell you, but, of course, -I've promised not to." - -"Did you ask him why he kept the other two pictures covered?" I -inquired. - -"Yes, I asked him that, too, but he said it was for a reason he couldn't -explain at present." - -The Imp wouldn't have told me if he _had_ explained. I'm positive of -that. And what's more, I simply can't believe that he told her all about -the other one. She can make things sound so mysterious, when there's -really nothing to them at all. However, I can't be certain, even of -this. Maybe he really did explain, though why he should make her promise -not to tell is a puzzle. - -I'm not going to think about it any more just now. It makes me too -furious. - - -March 22. Such a strange, strange thing happened to-day. Dave went with -me to see Louis this afternoon, for the Imp had to go on an errand to -the village, and Carol was in the house with another severe cold. Dave -went up first, stayed quite a while, and then went on home. - -Miss Yvonne took me up and told me that the nurse was out for the -afternoon, and that Monsieur was lying down in Louis's room. So, for the -first time since his accident, I actually saw Louis without a lot of -other people in the room. We chatted for a while about school matters -and what we had all been doing while he was laid up. And Louis told me -how much better he was, how he was soon going to be allowed to get up, -and that the nurse was going in a few days. After that we were both -quiet for a few moments. It was one of those pauses that sometimes come -in conversation, which get so prolonged that you hardly know how to -break them. Then, just to end the silence, I asked Louis why Monsieur -had insisted on his being in this room, and how inconvenient it must -have been for Monsieur. To my surprise, Louis became much excited and -said: - -"I can't think whatever made him do it that day! _I_ didn't want to be -here. I'm horribly uncomfortable about it all the time. I _hate_ it! It -would have been so much more sensible to have put me in my own room on -the ground floor. And, Sue, what do you think?" Here Louis sank his -voice to a whisper. "I came to myself one day, out of a sort of stupor -that I'd been in, and found him kneeling by the side of the bed and -actually _kissing my hand_! I was so astonished and disgusted that I -snatched it away, weak as I was. He never said a word, but rose and -walked out of the room. What does it all mean?" - -"I'm sure I don't know, Louis," I replied; "but tell me, do you know -anything about those portraits that hang on the wall opposite your bed? -Why are two covered up, and who is that boy in the middle?" - -To my astonishment, Louis seized hold of my arm and whispered: - -"Sue, Sue, I hate those pictures. I hate that one in the middle. I'm -_afraid_ of it! I--" - -Before he could say any more we heard Miss Yvonne coming up the stairs -to tell me that my time was up and that Louis must rest. And so he -couldn't go on. - -But why, _why_ does Louis hate the picture of that boy, and why, above -all things, is he afraid of it? Was there ever so curious a mystery? - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE IMP MAKES A DISCOVERY - - -Despite the fact that Sue and Carol boiled with impatience for over a -week, conjecturing what it could possibly be that made Louis afraid of -the picture in Monsieur's room, they found out nothing new on the -subject, for the simple reason that there was never a moment when they -again saw him alone. To ask him about it when others were in the room -was impossible. Two days after Sue's last visit he was allowed to sit -up, and a day or two after that he was permitted to walk about for a few -steps. Then the nurse took her leave, and Louis insisted on returning to -his own room on the ground floor. - -"And only to think," sighed Sue, when she heard of it, "now we'll -probably never see those strange pictures on Monsieur's wall again. I -could cry with vexation when I think of it. Carol, do you feel as if -there were something terribly mysterious about them,--not only the two -covered ones, but the boy's, also? I wonder if it haunts you the same as -it does me?" - -"It certainly does," admitted Carol, "and yesterday I wrote a little -poem about it. Here it is. What do you think of it?" - -She handed Sue a scrap of paper on which the verses were written. The -two girls had dropped off the trolley on their way home from high -school, and were bound for the library. Sue took the paper and studied -it carefully as she walked. - -"I like it a lot," she acknowledged, as she handed it back. "Especially -those last two lines: - - - 'O boy of nut-brown hair and smiling eyes, - Speak out and tell the secret that you know.' - - -Really, it's awfully pretty and the best thing you've done yet. Why -don't you show it to Miss Cullingford. It hasn't any direct reference -to Louis's affairs in it, and I'll warrant she'd recommend it to be -published in our high school paper, _The Argus_." - -"Well, perhaps I will," agreed Carol, visibly pleased with Sue's -unstinted praise. She folded the paper back into a book as they went up -the steps of the library. - -It was while the two were wandering round the big, sunny room, scanning -the shelves for an interesting book, that they made a startling -discovery. - -"Will you look at that!" whispered Carol, suddenly pinching Sue as they -were passing the door of the smaller reference room, a spot they -themselves seldom entered. There, near a shelf of immense volumes, -stood--who but the Imp! She was deeply engrossed in the pages of a tome -nearly as large as herself. The sight was the more amazing because the -Imp was neither a member of the library, so far as they knew, nor did -she ever enter it, if she could help it, except rarely to get a book for -the girls. - -The two stood rooted to the spot with astonishment. Suddenly the Imp -caught sight of them. She promptly closed the book and slipped it back -on the shelf. All she would admit in reply to what she felt to be their -intrusive inquiries was the statement: - -"I'm looking up something on the advice of Miss Hastings. I guess I -don't have to explain everything to you." After which remark she marched -majestically out of the room. - -The girls tried to guess from the shelf where she had stood what book -she had been consulting, but as it was a long row of encyclopedias, all -exactly alike, they could not glean the least inkling. Giving up that -course, they questioned the librarian on the way out, and found that the -Imp had joined the library several days before. - -"Did you ever know anything to beat it?" demanded Sue, as they passed -down the steps. "What can she be up to? I know she's awfully bright and -reads lots of books that interest grown-folks, but she's so lazy about -things and so crazy just to be outdoors that she never thought it worth -while to join the library before." - -"She said," Carol reminded her, "that her teacher, Miss Hastings, -advised her to look up something. You know she always tells the truth, -at least." - -"That's true," admitted Sue, "but it must be something out of the -ordinary, or she would simply have come to us and bribed us to go and do -it for her. And besides, in her class they don't have to look up things -in encyclopedias; they haven't got to that yet. No, I'm certain it's -something else." - -Wondering about the Imp's strange behavior, they harked back, as they -walked homeward, to that other subject that was constantly puzzling -them. - -"Do you know," said Carol, "I believe that I've come to agree with you -in your theory about Louis and Monsieur. You know I didn't when you -first told me, because I was awfully disappointed about his not being a -count or a duke. But now I think that you're right. Monsieur is probably -the family lawyer, and Louis is going to inherit a big French fortune. -But if that is the case, why is it that Monsieur seems to be trying so -hard to make Louis like him? You remember, Louis said the other day that -he constantly feels as if Monsieur were doing everything in his power to -win his affection, for some reason or other. If he were only a family -lawyer, he wouldn't care a penny whether Louis liked him or not. And why -was he kissing his hand the other day? I'm half-inclined to believe that -he's some relative--a grandfather or an uncle or something. Yet he could -scarcely be that, and the lawyer, too. Isn't it a puzzle?" - -"But don't you remember that Miss Yvonne told Louis he wasn't any -relative?" Sue reminded her; "only an old friend of the family." - -"Susette," remarked Carol solemnly, stopping stock still in the middle -of the road, "you may call me all kinds of an idiot if you like, but I -want to tell you one thing. I've been feeling lately that there's some -mystery here, bigger than anything you or I imagine. It's just a -feeling I have, but it haunts me continually. I'm _certain_ something is -going to happen that will make us gasp with astonishment. And when that -does happen, I want you to remind me of what I've said to-day. I'm sure -I'm right. I feel it in my very bones, as Aunt Agatha often says." - -And Sue, much impressed, as solemnly promised to remind her. - - -March 27. There's something that the Imp is up to,--something that she -has discovered. I'm as certain of it as I am that my name is Susette -Birdsey. The reason I know this is because of what happened to-day. - -Carol and I had gone down this afternoon to Anita Brown's to go over -some English history with her for an exam we're going to have in a day -or two. Anita is great on history, and somehow can make it seem so -simple and sensible and easy to remember. I don't know how she does it, -but we always like to study that subject with her and get her to explain -all about the succession of kings and what relation they were to each -other. She has the knack of making them seem like real people. - -Well, we had stopped at her house on the way from high school, so we -hadn't been home this afternoon. About half-past four we left, and -happened to come out of her gate just a little behind two people who -were walking up the road. (Anita lives about half-way between our house -and the village.) It didn't take us an instant to recognize those two -people as Monsieur and the Imp. Carol was all for hurrying along to join -them, but I said no, we might just as well keep to ourselves, for they -probably didn't care for our company, anyway. So we kept on behind them, -and they were talking so fast and hard that they didn't even notice us. - -Presently the Imp did a queer thing. She opened her school-bag, took out -a book--it wasn't a school-book, either!--opened it at a certain page, -and showed something to Monsieur. Whatever it was, it had the strangest -effect on him. He gave one look at the page, then stopped stock still -in the road and stared at the Imp, making a queer sound in his throat, -as if he were trying to clear it and didn't succeed very well. Then he -said something in French that we caught the sound of but couldn't -understand. But the Imp was evidently so excited that she forgot to -speak French, for we heard her say in English: - -"Then I'm right, Monsieur? It's the same? I was sure it was." - -And he answered: - -"_Oui, oui, petite mademoiselle!_" (I know enough French to translate -this as "Yes, yes.") - -After that the Imp went right on to chatter in French. But by this time -we'd made up our minds that it was high time _we_ were let in to that -little secret, so we hurried to catch up with them. But the Imp saw us -too quickly. She shut the book, slipped it back in her school-bag, and -by the time we had joined them they were conversing sedately in English -about the weather. - -When we reached our own gate the Imp went off about her own devices, -with never a word about the queer performance on the street. But Carol -and I made up our mind that we'd take a peep at that book in her -school-bag when she wasn't around. So when she had gone upstairs for a -while, we opened the school-bag that she had flung down on the couch in -the living-room. - -But when did we ever manage to get ahead of the Imp? She had carefully -removed that book, and it was nowhere to be found. I remember noticing -that it was a thick book with a light green cover, and there was nothing -even faintly resembling it anywhere about, so far as we could discover. -What she could have done with it, or when she could have taken it out -without our notice, beats me. Leave it to the Imp, however, to -accomplish that sort of trick. - -Of course we plainly saw that there was nothing we could do, except to -question her, and we debated the longest time about whether to do so or -not. It's such a hopeless performance, if the Imp has made up her mind -beforehand that you're not going to find out anything from her. Carol -suggested that we ask her right out what she had discovered that -Monsieur was so interested in. I told her there was only one kind of -answer to expect to _that_, so what on earth was the use? - -I thought I had a better scheme. The Imp has been wild for a long time -to have a fountain-pen like the one I bought in Bridgeton two months ago -for a dollar. I was going to save up and give her one for her birthday. -But that's a long way off yet. So I suggested to Carol that I offer to -let the Imp have mine, and then buy a new one with the dollar Uncle Ben -gave me at Christmas. She said it was an awful waste of a good pen, and -might not accomplish what we wanted, anyway, but that I could try it if -I liked. - -So a little later, when the Imp came in where we were studying, I began -on the subject, but very carefully, so that she wouldn't suspect -something right at the start and spoil everything. After she had settled -herself to read--it was _my_ book, by the way!--I began thus: - -"You and Monsieur seemed to be having a nice time while you were coming -up the road this afternoon. Does he think you talk good French?" - -The Imp glanced at me warily, but replied in an amiable manner: - -"Oh, yes. He says I'm the only person he's met in America, except Louis -and his folks, who speaks it with a decent accent." - -Then she went on reading. It was plain that _she_ wasn't going to give -us any opening, if she could help it. - -"Do you always talk to him in French?" I went on cautiously. - -"Yes, always. He likes it best," she answered, without looking up again. - -"But we heard you say something to him in English this afternoon," I -ventured, for I had a scheme as to just how I was going to trap her. For -a wonder, she fell into it. - -"I didn't! I don't remember saying a word in English." - -This was just what I had thought. She was so excited at the time that -she _hadn't_ remembered. - -"Oh, but you _did_!" broke in Carol. "We heard you say: 'Then I'm -right? It is the same? I was sure it was.'" - -"You horrid things!" burst out the Imp. "Always tracking me around and -eavesdropping! You once accused _me_ of that, but I think the tables are -turned now." - -"Look here," I said, and I felt downright mad, "you know perfectly well -we weren't doing anything of the kind. We happened to come out of -Anita's house right behind you, and we refrained from joining you at -first because we knew you didn't want us. We couldn't help it if you -talked so loud that we could hear what you said." - -She calmed down at that, and I seized the advantage and determined on a -bold stroke. - -"Bobs dear," I said, in as friendly a way as I could, "we know you've -discovered something about Monsieur or Louis or some one from what you -said and did this afternoon. Won't you tell us about it, too? You know -we're awfully interested. And just to show you that we only mean to be -friendly, I'll give you that new fountain-pen of mine, if you care to -have it. I don't mean it as a bribe, but only to make you feel that we -aren't really hateful." - -At this her eyes fairly sparkled for a moment. Then she shook her head. - -"I can't do it, girls, much as I'm crazy to have that pen. Honest, I -can't. I'm not teasing you about it this time, either. I really _have_ -discovered something quite important, and it just happened by accident, -too. But Monsieur was so upset about it, and asked me so politely not to -say anything to any one, that I just feel it wouldn't be right. I think -I took him terribly by surprise. I don't know what it all means yet -myself. There's something awfully mysterious about things over at -Louis's. And really, you've been so decent to me lately that I'd tell -you if I could, even without the pen." - -Well, that was too much for me. I knew she meant every word she said, -and I could understand, too, why she felt she couldn't tell us. So I -just gave her the pen, anyway, and she was so happy and grateful. She -said: - -"It's all right, girls. You're trumps! And I'll do something for you -yet, never you fear." - -But only to think that it was the Imp who made the first real, important -discovery about this mystery! Well, things do happen queerly. I wonder -what in the world she can have discovered? - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE PORTRAIT OF MYSTERY - - -It was well into April before Louis came back to school, looking a -trifle thin and pale, but otherwise not impaired by his serious -accident. Carol and Sue traveled back and forth with him on the trolley -several times, but never once picked up courage to ask him the question, -the answer to which they were burning to know,--why had he been afraid -of the strange portrait in Monsieur's room? - -It was not till one evening when he had come over to see Dave that the -subject was broached. Dave was detained out in the barn, helping his -father with a sick farm-horse, and while they were waiting for him in -the living-room the talk drifted to Monsieur and his devoted kindness -during Louis's illness. - -"He simply couldn't do enough for me," the boy asserted. "Beginning -with his insisting on my having his room, he loaded me with delicacies -and attentions of every sort the whole time. I began by quite despising -him, but he's been so jolly good to me that I've just _got_ to like him, -whether or no! Honestly, it's almost pathetic sometimes, he tries so -hard. I feel like a brute if I don't respond in just the way he wants me -to. He's stopped talking about all the things he knows I don't care for, -and even stands for my talking about mechanical engineering and that -sort of thing. And that's going some for _him_!" - -"Louis," ventured Sue, a little timidly, "do you mind telling us now why -you hated and were afraid of that portrait? You were going to tell me -that day, if you remember, when we were interrupted." - -The boy looked hesitant for a moment. Then he replied: - -"I believe I might as well. It can't hurt any one that I can see. I've -had the most peculiar feeling about that picture ever since my accident. -Before that I'd seen it, of course, but had never thought much about -it, and those two others that are covered I only thought were just -another eccentricity of Monsieur's. He's awfully eccentric, anyway, -about a number of things. But after I landed in that room with my -chopped foot, and had to stay there when I didn't want to and lie -staring day and night at that picture at the foot of my bed, first I -began to hate it and then I actually became afraid of it. You'll hardly -believe me, girls, when I tell you that I covered up my head with the -bedclothes at times, when I was alone in the room, so that I wouldn't -have to look at it." - -"But _why_?" interrupted Carol. "What was strange about it?" - -"Well," Louis answered, "it's not so much that there's anything strange -about the picture _itself_; it's more the way it made me feel and the -way Monsieur acted about it and--well, a dream I had about it one -night." - -"A _dream_?" the girls exclaimed. "What was it?" - -"I'll get to that presently," he said. "But first I want to tell you -what Monsieur said about it. A day or two after I was taken to that room -I asked him whose portrait it was. He said he would tell me all about it -some time, but that all he could say at present was that the child had -been one of the world's heroic martyrs. That, of course, didn't give -_me_ much information, but it made me a little more interested, and I -used to lie and stare at it by the hour, wondering how in the world a -youngster of six or seven could have been what he said. - -"Then came the time when I took that turn for the worse, and they -thought it was all up with me. I had a terrible fever and was delirious, -too, I guess. And that wretched picture haunted me the whole time. -Sometimes it seemed to be coming toward me rapidly, growing larger and -larger, and the eyes would glow like balls of fire. I used to scream out -loud, because it somehow seemed as if it would wrap itself round me and -crush me. Then it would seem to retreat way off where I could hardly see -it, and almost disappear through the wall. At other times it would turn -over, hang upside down, and cut up all sorts of antics. And all the time -I couldn't seem to take my eyes from it. - -"The last night that I was so very ill I had an awful dream about it. I -thought that suddenly I looked at it, and a queer change had happened to -the whole thing. Instead of the youngster being dressed up in that natty -little silk coat with lace frills at his neck and wrists and the -jewelled star on his chest and the little riding-whip, his clothes were -all queer and ragged. He had a bright red cap of some kind on his head, -and his hair was matted and tangled. Instead of being plump and smiling, -he was thin and half-starved looking, and the tears were running down -his cheeks. And while I looked, he suddenly held out his arms to me, as -if for help. I felt as if I must get right out of bed and give him some -assistance,--I simply _must_. And I guess I tried, too, for I remember -the nurses held me down. Even after I was much better, I couldn't seem -to get over the horror of that dream. I hated to look at the picture -after that, for fear I'd see it again the same way." - -"But you also said," Sue reminded him, "that Monsieur acted queerly -about the picture, too. What did he do?" - -"Oh, yes, that's another thing," added Louis. "He used to stand in front -of it the longest time, gazing at it as steadily as if it were the most -wonderful thing on earth. Next he would turn and stare at me, and then -look back again at the picture, till I could have yelled, it made me so -nervous. It was mostly when he thought I was asleep or in a stupor, but -I wasn't either one of those things half as much as they thought I was. -Once he came and stood over me, after I had had my eyes shut for a long -time, and I heard him muttering something about 'the temple look,' -whatever he could have meant by that. It all seemed horribly uncanny. I -didn't like it at all. I never was so glad of anything in my life as to -get out of that place and back to my own room at last." - -"But, Louis," began Carol, in an awed tone, "whatever do you suppose -caused you to have that queer dream? It's one of the queerest things I -ever heard. Did Monsieur ever say anything to you about the picture that -would make you think of a thing like that?" - -"Not a single thing," declared the boy stoutly, "except what he said -about the 'heroic martyr' business, and I can't believe I would have -made up the rest out of my head. It's singular--" - -At this moment, however, Dave came in, and the conversation shifted to -other topics. - - -April 8. Carol and I debated a long while as to whether it would be a -good idea to tell the Imp what Louis had told us last night. At first -Carol was shocked at the idea of such a thing, and she looked at me as -though I'd proposed to dynamite her house. But I reminded her that the -Imp had been awfully amiable to us of late, and really it mightn't be -such a bad scheme to let her into this, especially as she had some -inside information of her own that some time she might be able to give -us the benefit of. This settled Carol's doubts, so to-day we told the -Imp. - -When we came to the part about Louis's dream, she grabbed my arm and -said: - -"Are you making this up, or is it really true?" I never saw her so -excited before. - -"Of course it's true!" I said. "It's just exactly what Louis told us." - -"Then it's the queerest thing I ever heard of," she exclaimed. "O girls, -I wish I could tell you what I know! You'd be so startled that you'd -jump out of your boots. If only Monsieur hadn't asked me not to mention -it to any one!" - -"Haven't you even told Louis?" I asked. - -"No. Monsieur particularly asked me not to speak of it to Louis. He -asked me to promise him that I would not, and he seemed _so_ upset about -it. But I think I know why now. I've tracked down a whole heap of things -lately. Some time I'll let you two in on it, if I can do so without -breaking any promises." - -The Imp can be a trump when she wants to be. I wonder if we have -_permanently_ got on the right side of her at last? - -To-day I persuaded Carol to show her poem, "The Mysterious Portrait," to -Miss Cullingford. She only agreed to do so for this reason. Our paper, -_The Argus_, is offering a prize of five dollars for the best poem -handed in by any member of the freshman class. I don't believe there's -another one who can write as well as Carol, and this is her best piece -of work. So at last she consented to let Miss Cullingford criticize it -for her, before she submits it to the contest committee. I'm just crazy -to have Carol get the prize. - -She says Miss Cullingford took it and read it over,--it's not very -long,--and then began to ask her some questions about it. They were -principally about where she'd seen this portrait. Carol told her it was -in the house of a friend, but didn't say anything that would give Miss -Cullingford any clue as to where it really was. Miss Cullingford told -her that the poem was very good, and asked her to describe the portrait -to her a little more in detail. Carol did this as well as she could -from memory. At last Miss Cullingford told Carol to leave the verses -with her for a day or two, as she would like to consider them at her -leisure. It looks rather promising for Carol, I think. - - -April 9. Another awfully strange thing happened to-day. Our last hour -for the day was English literature, and when it was over Miss -Cullingford asked Carol to come to her after dismissal, as she wanted to -talk to her a while about her poem. So Carol went to her room, but I -didn't wait, because I was anxious to get home and help Mother with a -new dress she's been making for me. I told Carol that I'd watch out for -her when she came home, and run out to the gate to hear what Miss -Cullingford had said about the poem. Carol said she wouldn't have but a -minute to spare, because her mother and her Aunt Agatha were going to -take her to dinner with some friends at Bridgeton, and so would be -anxious for her to hurry and dress so they could catch the four o'clock -trolley. - -I went home by myself and sewed hard for an hour or so. About five -minutes of four Carol came rushing up the road and dashed in at her -gate, late as usual. I grabbed up my coat, and hurried out to catch her -before she went into the house. She was breathless with running, and her -eyes had the wildest look. I thought it was because she was so late, but -she panted out: - -"O Susette! I'd give _anything_ if I only had the time to talk, but -Mother and Aunt Agatha will be wild at me, as it is. I'm _so_ late! But -what do you think? You'll never guess. I've found out _whose portrait -that is in Monsieur's room_!" - -I was simply stunned. - -"I don't believe you!" I cried. "This is just a trick. You can't catch -me that way." - -"No, no! It isn't a trick. It's _true_!" she panted. "You'll have to -wait till to-morrow. I'll tell you all about it then." And she was gone -into the house without another word. - -This is simply _horrible_. Can I _ever_ wait till to-morrow? - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -CAROL MAKES A DISCOVERY OF HER OWN - - -To Sue, the night that followed seemed endless. The mere idea that Carol -had actually discovered something, and then hadn't even had a chance to -give her the faintest inkling about it, was enough to keep her from a -wink of sleep. But dawn came at last, and with the first light she was -up and dressing frantically. If she had thought of it, she might have -known that her chum would not be about for the next three hours. -Breakfast on that day was only an empty form, and no sooner was it over -than Sue snatched up her books and rushed madly from the house, much to -the amazement of the rest of her family. - -Never doubting that she would hear the whole story from Carol as they -walked to the village, she was filled with despair when she found that -Carol's Aunt Agatha proposed to walk down with them, in order that they -might assist her to carry a heavy basket of things she was taking to -some sick woman in the village. Aunt Agatha's progress was slow, and to -Sue's agonized signals Carol could only shake her head and dumbly -signify that her friend must wait till later for revelations. - -But even this was not the end. Also waiting for the trolley was Louis. - -"Do you mind telling him, too?" whispered Sue. - -"I'd rather not," returned Carol. "I really don't think I ought to yet!" - -This only added to the mystery. Louis wondered much at their -unresponsiveness that morning, and, in fact, during all the school day -and the returning trip that afternoon. For not another moment offered -itself as entirely suitable to the tale that Carol was to unfold. Once -they had reached the Green, however, Louis betook himself about his own -affairs, and the two girls were left alone with their secret. - -"Come up to the den in our barn," said Carol. "That's where I want to -tell you." - -"But it'll be cold," objected Sue. "Can't you come into the house?" - -"No. I don't want to be interrupted, and I've something to show you," -insisted Carol darkly. - -Consumed with wonder, Sue obediently followed her up the hay-loft -ladder, and they locked themselves into the chilly, hay-scented den. - -"Now do begin at once!" exclaimed Sue. "I never spent such an awful, -maddening day of suspense in my life. Don't wait a minute!" - -"I'm just as crazy to tell you as you are to hear it," responded Carol. -"Do you think _I_ haven't been boiling with impatience all day? Well, -here goes! Susette, it's the queerest thing in the world, the way I -happened across this. It's all through Miss Cullingford. That day, after -I'd described the picture to her as well as I could, I remember that she -looked puzzled and said, 'That somehow sounds familiar to me.' But I -didn't think anything of the remark at the time, because I was too -interested in what she was going to say about my poem, and I soon -forgot it. But yesterday, when I went to her after school, she asked me -if I'd recognize the picture if I saw it again, and I said that of -course I would. Then she suddenly drew a book out of her desk and opened -it at a certain page. And, Sue, will you believe me when I tell you? -There was a copy of that _very same picture_, right before my eyes!" - -"Well, for goodness sake, tell me who it was, or I'll die of curiosity!" -cried Sue impatiently. - -"That's just what I don't know," Carol answered. "But I have the book -here. It belongs to Miss Cullingford, and she offered to lend it to me. -Of course, when I saw it, I acted surprised, but not half as much so as -I felt, because I didn't want to have to tell her anything about Louis. -I only said that it seemed to be the same picture, and she said it must -have been some copy that I'd seen, for the portrait was a famous one, -painted by a famous artist. Then she went on to criticize my poem, and -made one or two suggestions about some little changes in it. She said -that if I made them, she thought the poem stood a fair chance of -winning the prize. Then she offered to lend me the book to take home and -read, because she thought I might be interested in it. She little knew -how _desperately_ interested I was! But come! Let's look at it for -ourselves, and see if we can find out anything we'd like to know." - -Carol took the book out of a desk where she had locked it, and opened it -at a certain page. And there, staring right up at them, was the selfsame -picture that hung in Monsieur's room,--the "boy of nut-brown hair and -smiling eyes." Only of course the picture was in black and white, not -colored as in the oil-painting. But it was the _same_; you couldn't -mistake it. And underneath the portrait it said, "The Dauphin of -France." - -"Carol," said Sue, after she'd read it, "will you tell me what on earth -a 'dauphin' is?" - -"I haven't the faintest idea," answered the other. "I never heard the -word before, and I haven't had a chance to look it up anywhere. It looks -something like the word 'dolphin.' Perhaps it's the French for it. And -yet I don't think that is likely. A dolphin is some kind of a -sea-creature, like a porpoise, isn't it? So it _couldn't_ have any such -meaning here." - -"But what is this book?" asked Sue. - -They looked at the title, and it was, "Memoirs of Madame Lebrun." Carol -said that Miss Cullingford had told her that it was an account of the -life of a famous French artist and of the pictures she had painted. As -that didn't give them any special help, they turned the pages eagerly, -but couldn't seem to find out a thing about this particular picture that -interested them. - -"Wait a minute," said Carol. "I'll run into the house and look up the -word in our big dictionary. Maybe I can find it there." - -She came flying back after a few moments, all excitement, panting: - -"It _was_ there! I didn't dare hope it would be. It gave a whole lot -about how the word originated. We weren't so far off the track when we -thought of 'dolphin.' It _did_ come from that! But anyhow, the -principal meaning was, 'The eldest son of the King of France. The heir -to the throne.' It also says that there isn't any such title in France -now." - -After that they just sat and stared at the picture in silent amazement. -What in the world could it all mean? If they'd been confused before, -they were now more muddled than ever. Suddenly an idea occurred to Sue. - -"Which dauphin do you suppose it was?" she questioned. "There must have -been a lot of them." - -"Maybe we could find out if we read the book through," suggested Carol -helplessly. - -The task, indeed, appeared herculean. Neither of the girls were in the -least interested in memoirs, or in any other literature of that "dull" -class. Both had frequently acknowledged that only stories of adventure -and mystery and excitement contained the least interest for them. There -seemed, however, no other way out of this tangle. - -"Well, all right! If we must, we must, I suppose," said Sue. "I'd -attempt 'most anything for the sake of solving this mystery. Suppose we -read it aloud, turn and turn about. But for goodness sake, don't let's -try to do it up here. We'll freeze. What if people _do_ see us with it? -They'll probably only think we're reading it for study. The Imp might -suspect something, but she--" - -Suddenly Carol interrupted with: - -"See here! Why not _tell the Imp_? She's evidently found out a lot of -things on her own hook, and she even said she might tell us about them -some time, if she could. Perhaps we've got ahead of her on this. I'd -just enjoy getting ahead of her for once! Let's tell her and see what -happens." - -It was now Sue's turn to demur. Carol was so insistent, however, that -she finally gave a reluctant consent, and they went out to hunt up the -Imp. A little triumphantly Sue led her younger sister up to the loft, -and with just a touch of patronage she promised her the surprise of her -life when she got there. But to their intense chagrin, the two girls -found, as they had discovered many times before, that they had, so to -speak, to get up very early in the morning to get ahead of the Imp. - -"Look!" cried Carol, exhibiting the picture. "What do you think of -that?" - -The Imp gave it only one disdainful glance. - -"Huh!" she sniffed. "Aren't you a little late in the day? I discovered -the same thing about a month ago in the same book, or in one just like -it!" - -The two sat staring at her in stunned silence. Then Carol glanced at the -book. - -"It's so, Sue," she murmured. "It's the very same kind of a book that we -saw her showing to Monsieur that day. Look at the light green cover." - -It was indeed the same! But the Imp had had her triumph and now could -afford to be magnanimous. - -"Since you've discovered the same thing," she said, "I'll tell you how -_I_ happened to come across it. Our teacher, Miss Hastings, recently -brought and hung up in the schoolroom some pretty new pictures. One that -I liked very much was called 'The Girl with the Muff.' One day I asked -Miss Hastings something about it, and she told me who the artist was and -said there was a book in the library about her, with pictures of her -other paintings in it. Next day she brought the book to school and let -me look at it. And, girls, it was this book, or one like it, and while I -was looking it over I almost jumped out of my shoes to come across this -very picture. I didn't say a word about it, though, but just went and -joined the library and got the book out and read it all." - -"And did you find out who this dauphin was?" Sue asked breathlessly. - -"I certainly did," answered the Imp, "and a whole lot more besides." - -"Well, who _was_ he, then?" - -"I wonder if I ought to tell you?" said the Imp reflectively. "You see I -promised Monsieur I wouldn't say anything about what I had discovered. -As you can guess now, I showed it to him, and it quite took him off his -feet with surprise. He begged me to say nothing about it to any one." - -"Look here!" exclaimed Sue suddenly. "You told us once, quite a long -while ago, that you asked Monsieur one day who the picture of the 'nice -little boy' in his room was, and that he told you then. So how could he -be surprised when you found it out later?" - -Sue thought she'd surely caught the Imp _that_ time. But the other only -laughed. - -"He only told me just what you said he told Louis--that it was one of -the world's 'heroic martyrs.' I was teasing you girls into thinking I -knew it all. You'd been pretty hateful to me just around that time." - -"I thought as much!" said Sue. "But we'll forgive you now, if you'll -tell us what you know. There can't be any harm in it, since we've -discovered just what you have." - -But the Imp wouldn't have been herself, if she had acted in a way like -ordinary folks. She stood and thought it over for a moment, keeping them -on tenter-hooks all the time. Then she remarked: - -"No, I don't honestly think it would be keeping my promise, if I said a -word to you about it. I'm going to keep _that_, whatever else I do. But -I'll open the book at one picture before I go, and that's all the hint -I'm going to give you." She took the book and laid it open at a certain -place, and then dashed down the stairs before they had time to say -another word. - -The two girls almost fell over each other in their hurry to see what the -picture was. It was a beautiful woman, and underneath it were the words, -"Marie Antoinette." - -"What in the world has _she_ got to do with it?" demanded Sue. "Of -course we all know who _she_ was. Didn't she get killed, or something, -in the French Revolution? But what has that to do with this dauphin?" - -"Perhaps she was some relation," suggested Carol. "If she was the queen, -maybe he was her son?" - -"Tell you what!" Sue interrupted. "Let's go to the library to-morrow and -hunt up some book on the French Revolution, or some other French -history, and see if we can clear this thing up. I'm not going to wade -through _this_ book. It doesn't seem to say a thing about what we want -to know." - -Carol agreed that this seemed the best course to pursue. Plainly, it -would be useless to consult "Madame Lebrun" any further. They took the -green book that had given them its startling revelation and hid it -safely in the desk. Then they turned to go. Suddenly Carol faced her -friend. - -"Susette Birdsey, what do you make of all this, anyway? What has it to -do with Monsieur and--with Louis?" - -"I'm as much at sea as ever," admitted Sue. - -"Well, you remember what I told you the other day," remarked Carol -impressively. "There's more here than we have ever dreamed. I'm more -firmly convinced of _that_ than ever!" - - - - -CHAPTER X - -JOTTINGS FROM THE JOURNAL - - -April 12, 1914. Well, we've found out all about that dauphin, and an -exhausting piece of work it was. I never waded through so much history -before in all my life. If the Imp hadn't given us that hint, though, it -would have been far worse, for we wouldn't have had the least idea where -to begin. - -We went to the library this morning and spent till lunch-time there, and -then went back again this afternoon. As it was the Easter holidays, we -fortunately had all the time to spend on it that we wanted. But I must -tell all about what we've discovered. Some of it is very, very -confusing. We can't understand what it can possibly have to do with -Louis, and yet there are things about it that make us sure that it -somehow has _something_ to do with him. - -To begin with, there isn't a shadow of doubt that this portrait is of -the dauphin who was the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, king and -queen of France around the time of the French Revolution. They seemed to -be having a pretty mixed up and bloody time in France just about that -period, and everybody had it in for the royal family and all the -nobility. The common people somehow got control of things, and first -they put the king and queen and dauphin and his sister in prison, and -then they killed the king and queen. The dauphin was a little boy of six -or seven at the time, and they didn't kill him, but kept him a prisoner -for three years in a place called the Temple Tower, till finally he died -of neglect. I think it said that he died in 1795. - -It just made us wild to read about how shamefully they treated that poor -little fellow. They gave him in charge of a horrible, cruel cobbler, -named Simon, who beat and ill-used him abominably,--just because he -happened to be the child of a king,--and then afterward they shut him up -in a room by himself, where he never saw a single soul for six months, -and handed him his food as they would to a dog in a kennel. At the end -of that time they appeared to be a bit sorry for the way they'd acted, -and let him come out into a decent room and tried to take a little -better care of him. But it was too late, for he died soon afterward,--as -I should think he would after standing that kind of treatment for three -years. - -Carol and I got so worked up over the thing that we almost cried. We -felt awfully to think that a poor, innocent, little chap should be -treated that way by people who were fighting for liberty and justice, as -the French were. It didn't make any difference if he _was_ a king's son. -He had just as much right to be fairly treated as any one, and _more_, -because he was so little and helpless. I don't wonder that Monsieur said -he was one of the world's heroic martyrs. One book said that he was -always so sweet and gentle and winning. His pretty manner at times even -softened the hearts of some of his cruel jailers. - -Well, that's the history of the dauphin. He would have been Louis XVII, -if he had lived to become a king. The portrait of him must have been -painted before all the trouble broke out. At that time the poor little -fellow could not have dreamed what he was going to suffer later. It's -well that he didn't know. - -As there didn't seem to be any more to find out, we decided we'd better -go home. - -I was longing for a chance to tell the Imp what we'd discovered, but she -had a bad sore-throat from getting her feet wet this afternoon, and -Mother had put her to bed. So I must wait till to-morrow. But since I've -had an opportunity to sit down and think this all over quietly, I've -been trying to see what connection all these things can possibly have -with affairs across the Green. So far, however, nothing but unanswered -questions has been the result. - -For instance, I can _not_ understand why Monsieur should consider that -portrait as one of his most treasured possessions. Of course the story -about the boy is terribly sad, but unless he was some relative of -Monsieur's (which is quite impossible), why should Monsieur cherish the -picture? He never saw the child, and can't possibly have any affection -for him. I don't understand it. And what are those two other pictures, -so carefully covered? Perhaps they are more portraits of the same child, -painted later and too sad to be looked at? I'd love to know. - -I wonder, too, if Louis knew about this dauphin, would he still continue -to hate the picture? Or would he be afraid of it? I'm just crazy to tell -him, yet I suppose it wouldn't be fair,--at present, anyway. Good -gracious! An idea has just occurred to me. I happened to think of that -strange dream Louis said he had when he was sick. Was there ever -anything so curious? I remember that he said the little fellow seemed so -changed, with ragged clothes and matted hair and tear-stained cheeks and -a red cap on his head! Why, that is just the way one of those books -described him after he was put in charge of the cobbler. Simon took away -all his nice clothes and made him wear a red "liberty-cap," and forced -him to sing the songs of the revolution and dance for him. And Louis -dreamed all that change in his appearance, yet he doesn't know who the -subject of the portrait is and very little, if anything, about this -dauphin, in all probability. This is simply uncanny! I must tell Carol -in the morning. - - -April 19. I haven't had a chance to write a thing in this journal for a -week. We have been having the dressmaker. She's getting all our spring -things in order, and I've had to help her and Mother with the sewing -every spare minute that I've had. Father's been laid up, too, with an -acute attack of rheumatism, and was in bed several days. For nearly half -the week I didn't even go to school. So, altogether, I've been having a -rather strenuous time. - -But, all the same, I haven't forgotten our mystery for a single minute. -Carol has kept me posted on anything new that has happened, though -nothing special did happen till yesterday. She has been madly reading -history ever since. She always did have a taste for it, and this has -given her the inspiration to read up French history from the very -beginning. She says she's finding it as interesting as a story. Well, -maybe she is, but I'm sure _I_ wouldn't. - -One thing she said was that the more she read, the more she felt that -the French weren't much to blame for what they did while getting rid of -their kings and queens in that revolution. Of course they might have -used gentler means, but they were probably too exasperated by the way -they'd been downtrodden. From almost the beginning the reigning monarchs -were a _precious lot_, evidently considering it their chief business in -life to squeeze the most they could out of their subjects. Each one felt -he'd lived in vain, apparently, if he hadn't gone his ancestor one -better at that occupation! Carol says that Louis XVI seems to have been -a lot better than most of them, but by that time the French were too -furious to consider that, I suppose. Anyway, he had to suffer for what -his ancestors had done. - -We haven't seen much of Monsieur lately. Louis says he hasn't been -well. This climate doesn't agree with him, and he has rheumatism and -gout, and has caught a dreadful cold. I don't see why he stays here, if -it makes him so miserable. Anyhow, he was in such bad shape that he -decided to go to New York to spend a few days at a sanitarium, and Miss -Yvonne had to take him there, for he was too sick to go alone. He went -yesterday, and last night a queer thing happened. Carol told me about it -this afternoon, giving the account as Louis told it to her while coming -home from school on the trolley. - -It seems that he and his uncle were sitting downstairs in the -living-room when, about nine o'clock, they heard a dreadful crash -upstairs, directly over their heads. They couldn't think what in the -world it could be, and were so startled that neither of them moved or -spoke for a moment. Then Louis jumped up, exclaiming: - -"Something's the matter in Monsieur's room! That's right overhead. I'll -go up and see." - -At first his uncle didn't seem to want him to go, saying he'd rather go -himself. But as he's very feeble and doesn't go upstairs often (his -bedroom is on the lower floor), Louis wouldn't hear of it and insisted -that at least they go together. So up they went. - -When they reached Monsieur's room and struck a light, they saw that the -picture of the boy had fallen to the floor and that the glass was -broken. Evidently, the wire by which it was hung had become rusty and -given way, for the picture is very heavy. Louis didn't think much of the -occurrence. He merely remarked that he'd clean up the broken glass and -get a glazier to come in the morning and put in a new one. Also, he said -he'd get some new wire and rehang it. - -But for some unknown reason old Mr. Meadows was nearly wild. He stood -and wrung his hands, and walked up and down, as if something perfectly -awful had happened. Louis couldn't make out what in the world was the -matter with him. Finally he said: - -"It's all right, Uncle. What are you so excited about? I'm going to -have it all fixed up to-morrow. It will be as good as ever. The picture -itself isn't damaged a bit." - -But even then his uncle couldn't seem to calm down, and all Louis could -get from him was this remark, repeated over and over: - -"'Tis an evil omen! An unfortunate sign! On no account must Monsieur -know of it!" - -Louis said that was all right; he needn't know of it. The picture would -be all fixed up long before Monsieur came back. And even Miss Yvonne -needn't hear of it, for he'd see that it was in place before she came -home to-day. This seemed to calm Mr. Meadows somewhat, and he finally -consented to have it so. But all the evening he kept muttering, "An evil -omen!" to himself, and acted uneasy. Louis says he doesn't see any sense -in it. I can't say that I do either, even with what I know, and yet it -does seem sort of queer. - -I'm too tired to write much more to-night, and yet I must tell about how -the Imp acted when we told her of what we'd unearthed in the histories -about the dauphin. - -We were awfully enthusiastic over telling her, for we felt sure she -would think we'd done a good piece of work. As a matter of fact, Carol -and I doubted very much whether the Imp could possibly have found out as -much as we had, for we'd dug into things so thoroughly. We felt sure we -were giving her some points she hadn't discovered, and we were rather -proud of ourselves. Imagine our disgust when she remarked, after we'd -finished: - -"Well, you've done very nicely, children!" She always calls us -"children" when she wants to be patronizing and unpleasant. I thought it -strange that she should suddenly turn horrid, when she's acted so -friendly of late. - -"Don't be hateful," I said, "but admit that we have given you some good -points." - -"I don't mean to be hateful," she retorted, "but it makes me mad to see -how little you girls use your brains." - -"I don't think that's a nice remark," I said, "but I'll forgive you for -it, if you'll be kind enough to explain what you mean." - -"Why, just this," she answered. "There are one, two,--yes, three points -in things you know about that you haven't connected with this picture or -this history at all, so far as I can see." - -"What are they?" I demanded. - -"You know that I can't tell you," she replied. "I can only advise you to -use your brains and your memories." - -"Anything else?" I inquired, as mildly as I could, for by that time I -was getting furious with her. - -"Yes, one thing more," she said. "You were trying to be patronizing, -weren't you, when you asked me if you hadn't given me some good points. -As if it wasn't _I_ who put you on the right track in the beginning! -I've always said that you two were an ungrateful pair, and now I'm sure -of it. I'll give you just one more piece of information, and then I'm -through. You thought you had discovered more than I have? Why, I've -unearthed so much more that you haven't even touched or suspected that -you'd be perfectly amazed, if you knew what I do!" With that, she -flounced out of the room. - -I can't help but believe the Imp, mad as she has made me. Goodness knows -when she'll come round to being amiable again, for once she goes off on -a tangent like this, she _stays_ off for a good long while. It's too -bad! - -What in the world can those three things be that she was talking about? - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -LOUIS SPRINGS A SURPRISE--AND THE CONSEQUENCES THEREOF - - -May 1, 1914. Nothing special has happened during the last two weeks that -is worth writing about. Carol and I haven't made the least progress in -solving the riddles I last mentioned. The Imp fulfilled all my -expectations, and has been most objectionable ever since that day. Queer -how she turns completely around at times, especially when she feels the -least bit touchy, and acts as if we were her mortal enemies. She has -hardly spoken to us lately. - -Monsieur came home from his sanitarium, and seems a lot improved. The -weather is lovely, anyhow, and he stays outdoors a good deal, so I -suppose that helps, too. Carol and I have had several interesting talks -with him. You can't help seeing a good deal of your neighbors in this -shut-off spot around the Green, when the weather is nice, and even -Monsieur seems to have become used to strolling over and having little -friendly chats with us. He has "thawed out" a lot, and actually seems -quite human _now_. The Imp is still his favorite, of course, but he has -come to realize _our_ existence when she isn't about. - -What I wanted specially to write about to-night was the delightful time -we had to-day. Louis gave us all a treat, and besides providing such a -good time, he also gave us the surprise of our lives. There was to be a -big aviation exhibition over in Bridgeton this afternoon, and yesterday -Louis gave us all invitations to go with him and see it. He said he had -unusually good seats on the flying field. It was something we wouldn't -have missed for anything, and so we all went,--Dave, Carol, and myself, -and even the Imp. Louis said he had invited Monsieur, too, but Monsieur -did not care to go, not feeling as well as usual to-day. - -I've never seen an aëroplane near by before. To tell the truth, the -nearest I ever _did_ see one was probably a thousand feet up in the air, -sailing over our house one time. We had gorgeous seats right in front, -and could see everything plainly. I was so thrilled when the first one -rolled out and soared up majestically that I could have risen and -shouted myself hoarse. Carol had to pull me down once, to keep me from -tumbling right over the railing in my excitement. But that was nothing -to what was to come. We were so absorbed that we didn't notice that -after a while Louis slipped away and disappeared. What was our -astonishment to see him suddenly strolling down the field in a regular -aviator's costume, with a helmet in his hand. He came over to us, -laughing, and said: - -"I know I've given you all a shock, that is, all except Dave. He's been -in the secret. But I might as well up and confess my crimes now. I've -been mad about this aviation business for a year or more, and I have -been studying it secretly for some time. A fellow I know here in -Bridgeton has a machine and is to fly to-day. His name is Page Calvin. -He hasn't gone up yet. I've studied and worked on his machine till I -know it by heart, but I've never been up in it yet. To-day he's going to -take me up, and if I stand it all right,--some people can't, you -know,--why then it's aviation for _me_, in preference to everything -else!" - -Well, we were so thunderstruck that we couldn't say a word for a moment, -and just gasped. At last I managed to stammer: - -"And--and is Dave going in for this, too?" - -"Not I!" said Dave. "I haven't any head for it. I get too dizzy. But I'm -going to help Louis build a model aëroplane when we've finished that -motor-boat. I'm interested in the mechanical part of it." - -"But what about Monsieur?" Carol asked Louis. "Have you told him about -this?" - -"No, I haven't," said Louis. "That's why I wanted him to come to-day, so -that I could surprise him, too. I'm sorry he couldn't--" - -Just then some one came and told Louis that the biplane he was to go up -in was ready, so that he said good-bye and walked away. We watched him -put on his helmet and climb into the machine, and I confess now that I -never expected to see him alive again. It's all right when some one you -_don't_ know is going up; you're just excited and thrilled. But when -it's some one that you _do_, you're simply frozen stiff with fright, and -you're morally certain that he'll come crashing to earth any second! - -Carol and I gripped hands and held our breath, and I believe it was the -longest fifteen minutes I ever knew or expect to know. They sailed -completely out of sight for a while, and then the suspense was worse. -But at last the biplane came back and settled on the field as gracefully -as a bird. Louis was wild with excitement when he returned to us, and he -says it's the most wonderful experience imaginable. The Imp was so -worked up over it that she wanted Louis to persuade his friend to take -her up and "loop the loop"! He laughed, and told her it was not allowed, -but I believe that for a while she really thought she could tease him -into it. - -There was one other exciting thing that happened. Toward the last a -machine went up and something went wrong with the engine when it was -about two hundred and fifty feet in the air. It began to droop over in a -sort of lopsided fashion, and then began to settle, like a bird that has -been wounded in the wing. Before it reached the ground it was almost -upside down, and every one was nearly frantic, thinking the man in it -would fall out. But he didn't, and at last it came to earth with quite a -crash. A lot of people rushed to help the aviator out, Louis among them. -He wasn't killed, but they said he had a badly fractured arm, and we saw -him being fairly carried off the field. It made me actually sick to -think what a horribly dangerous career Louis was letting himself in for. -But it didn't seem to disturb _him_ a bit. All he would say was that a -careful aviator would never let a thing like that happen. - -It was late when we came home, so we invited Louis and Carol over to our -house to tea, and had a jolly evening afterward. - -I've had a gorgeous day and, as Louis said, "the surprise of my life." -But I cannot help wondering how Monsieur is going to take this piece of -news. - - -It was the day after Louis's great surprise, and, since it was Saturday, -he was out in the barn hard at work putting the finishing touches to the -motor-boat that was to be launched on the river during the coming week. -Carol, Sue, and the Imp had also drifted over to admire the -"toot-and-scramble," as the Imp insisted on pronouncing Louis's favorite -French expression, _tout ensemble_. - -"Won't it be jolly to have our first picnic up the river in her?" -remarked the boy, stopping to glance critically at a stroke of varnish -he had just administered. "Do you know, I really began this boat just to -get my hand into that kind of mechanical work, but I believe we're going -to have a lot of fun out of her, too. However, just you wait till I -begin my biplane--" - -At that moment a shadow fell across the doorway, and the figure of -Monsieur entered unexpectedly behind the group. - -"_Bon matin_," he began, as was his custom. Then suddenly and sharply he -added in English to Louis, "What is that you say?" - -"Good-morning," said Louis, politely. "I haven't seen you, sir, since -our expedition yesterday, or I would have told you what I told the girls -at the aviation field. I hope you'll be pleased." - -With a visible effort, for, in reality, he greatly dreaded this -revelation to Monsieur, yet simply and directly he told the old -gentleman what he had said and done on the previous day. - -The result was as unexpected as it was distressing. Not one of the -listeners but was fully prepared to see the excitable French gentleman -rage and storm and attempt to forbid Louis to engage in so dangerous a -pursuit. From all they had heard of him, they could imagine no other -course of action. They were entirely unprepared, however, for the -strange quiet with which he received the news. It was not till Louis -began to tell of yesterday's flight that Monsieur suddenly raised his -hand and cried in a low voice: - -"Stop! A chair, if you please! I--I feel very--ill!" - -Not till then did they notice the strange, gray pallor that had crept -into his face. Louis hurried into the main part of the barn and came -back with a rickety chair. When he had placed it, Monsieur sat down -heavily and, groaning slightly, pressed his hand to his side. - -"Hurry in--to--Mademoiselle Yvonne!" he gasped. "Tell her--bring my -medicine. My heart! It--it has been weak for years!" - -Louis dashed out of the barn to obey his command, and Carol dashed after -him, glad to get away from the sight of physical suffering. But the Imp -and Sue stayed with the old gentleman, the Imp steadying him in his -chair with her strong young arm, for he seemed to be slipping down. Sue -began fanning him frantically with a newspaper. It seemed as if the -other two were gone for an age, and, in fact, they were gone longer than -might have been expected, for Miss Yvonne was not about the house and -had to be hunted up in the big garden. - -Before they came back, however, Monsieur appeared to grow a trifle -easier. But the only word he said during the absence of the others was -just before they came back with Miss Yvonne. - -"It is useless!" they heard him murmur, and the Imp, bending over, asked -him what he had said and if they could do anything. But he acted hardly -aware of her presence, and went on murmuring something in French. Then -the others returned, bringing Miss Yvonne, breathless and excited, but -carrying a bottle and spoon. A few moments after taking the medicine -Monsieur seemed easier, and with the help of all he managed to get back -to the house. - -"It's all right now," Louis told the girls. "He says he will go to bed -and rest, but the worst of the attack is past. Don't you worry." - -The three girls wandered back across the Green, subdued and upset by -what had happened. Even the Imp was apparently forgetful of her past -grievances toward the others. - -"I wonder what he was trying to say?" marvelled Sue, as the three roamed -aimlessly toward Carol's barn. "Did you catch it, Bobs? You were nearest -to him, and I think he spoke in French." - -"Yes, I caught it," said the Imp, turning to them suddenly. "And look -here, girls, I believe I might as well tell you the whole thing now, if -you care to hear. I'm getting tired of the worry of carrying this thing -around by myself!" - -If she had exploded a bomb in their midst, she could not have startled -them more. - -"Gracious! What has made you change so?" demanded Sue, wonderingly. - -"Well, I feel kind of upset by what has happened this morning," admitted -the Imp, "and so I feel like getting this thing off my mind. Do you know -what he was muttering in French, as he sat there? It was this: 'It is -useless to try any longer to keep the secret. I must tell him at once'!" - -"So you see, if he tells Louis," went on the Imp, "there's no reason, -so far as I can see, why I shouldn't tell you _now_. Come up into your -den, and I'll tell you all I know!" - -She began to climb the ladder to the haymow, and the two followed her, -silent with amazement. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WHAT THE IMP KNEW - - -The three filed into the den off the haymow, and Carol solemnly -padlocked the door on the inside. As there were only two chairs, the Imp -perched herself on the old desk, curling her feet up under her. The one -window was wide open, and through it was wafted the scent of lilacs and -the sound of a lawn-mower propelled by Dave somewhere across the Green. -For a moment after they were seated no one spoke. - -"Well?" said Carol, impatiently. "Go on, Imp! Begin _some_where." - -"I was just wondering where to begin," admitted the Imp. "I was trying -to remember what you actually _do_ know, but I guess, except for the -fact as to who that picture is, you don't know a single thing." - -"You once said," Sue reminded her, "that there were three things we -actually knew that we hadn't connected with this affair. We've tried and -tried to think what they were, but somehow we never could seem to strike -them. Perhaps you'd better begin with _them_." - -But the Imp ignored this suggestion. - -"I suppose it _has_ dawned on you that that picture has some connection -with Louis?" she asked. - -"We've thought of it, but it seemed so impossible that we finally gave -up the idea," replied Sue. "What _could_ it possibly have to do with -him?" - -"Everything," answered the Imp briefly. - -"Go on, then!" commanded Sue. "You've kept us on tenter-hooks long -enough. If you're going to tell us at all, do please begin at the -beginning, and don't stop till you're through." - -"The trouble is just this," admitted the Imp. "I don't actually _know_ -anything much at all. It's just guesswork, except for one or two things. -You seem to think Monsieur has told me the whole business. Well, he -hasn't,--not a single thing,--except that I was right about knowing who -that portrait was, and he asked me not to say anything about it, -especially to Louis. Everything else I've worked out for myself, and it -_may_ be all wrong; but somehow I don't think it is." - -The two listeners looked crestfallen. For some time past they had come -to believe that the Imp was wholly and entirely in Monsieur's -confidence. It was a shock to learn the truth. Carol immediately -intimated as much to the assembled company. - -"You're a pack of sillies," exclaimed the Imp scornfully, "to imagine -such a thing, anyway! Why, this thing is of--of immense importance -to--well, I was almost going to say to the whole world. Do you suppose -for one moment that a youngster would be let into such an important -secret?" - -"What are you saying? 'To the whole world'?" cried Carol. "Are you going -crazy, or do you think you are taking us in again with some of your -nonsense?" - -"I'm _not_ talking nonsense, and I'll prove it. Do you know what I -discovered by reading a little more than you did at the library, and -also from an old book that Miss Hastings lent me, because I told her I -was interested in the subject? Well, I found out that, although most -people think it's a settled fact that that poor little dauphin died in -prison, still there are a lot of legends that he really escaped, that he -was helped to escape by some of the Royalists, and that the little boy -who died there wasn't the dauphin at all!" - -The Imp stopped to let this startling news sink into the minds of her -hearers. - -"But--but--" stammered Sue, "if he escaped, what became of him?" - -"That's something that never was known," answered the Imp. "After the -downfall of Napoleon and the restoration of the Bourbons in France, -there were a lot of pretenders who _said_ they were the escaped dauphin -and claimed the throne. But they never could prove it, so no one paid -much attention to them. Only you see there must have been some truth in -it,--his escape, I mean,--or no one would have thought of such a thing." - -"But I don't see, anyway, what all that has to do with this affair," -remarked Carol. - -"Don't you?" replied the Imp coldly. "Then you're more stupid than I -gave you credit for being." - -Carol quite wilted under this rebuke, but Sue, who had been doing some -rapid thinking, cried: - -"Mercy! It can't be possible that--" - -"Wait a minute," interrupted the Imp. "I'm going to answer your question -about those three things, and see what you make of it. Do you remember -what they used to call Louis XVI--the people, I mean? I'm sure you know, -because you mentioned it to me that day you were telling me what you'd -found out." - -"'Louis the Locksmith,'" answered Carol promptly. - -"Right," said the Imp. "Does _that_ make you think of anything?" - -Carol shook her head. - -"Oh, you're hopeless!" groaned the Imp. "Try the next one. When Louis -was sick one time Monsieur stood over him murmuring something about 'the -Temple look.' Does _that_ convey anything to your mind?" - -"It does to mine," interrupted Sue. "Oh, I believe I'm beginning to -understand." - -But Carol still looked hopelessly confused. - -"Well, here's the last," went on the Imp. "Why should Monsieur and all -the others treat Louis in the queer way they do? Why should Louis have -found Monsieur kissing his hand that time?" - -"Oh, please explain _clearly_, Bobs!" moaned Carol. "You mix me up so, -firing questions at me, that I can't think at all. Just say straight out -what it is." - -"All right, I will. I'll say it in words of one syllable, suitable to -your infant mind," laughed the Imp. "It may sound like the craziest idea -that ever was imagined, but I believe Louis to be a descendant of that -little dauphin, and I believe Monsieur knows it and the Meadows people, -too." - -The conjecture was so stupefying in its scope that the three girls sat -for a moment in dumb, confused wonder. - -"I can't believe it," murmured Carol, at length. "Right here on little -Paradise Green, way out of the world, to have such a thing happen? -Impossible!" - -"It's no stranger than lots of other things that have happened in -history," asserted the Imp, "when you come to think it over. And it's so -possible, too." - -"But here, _here_!" cried Sue. "What in the world would Louis be doing -in America? I could believe it more easily if we lived somewhere in -France." - -"I read in one book," replied the Imp to this objection, "that there was -a rumor that after the dauphin escaped he was taken to America. There -was an American Indian, named Eleazar Williams, or something like that, -who claimed to be the dauphin. So you see it's not so impossible, after -all." - -"Now I begin to see," remarked Carol, after a long pause, "what you -meant by some of those three things. If Monsieur thinks Louis is a -descendant of the dauphin, I can understand why they all treat him with -such respect. Why, girls," she cried enthusiastically, "just -think,--Louis--_our Louis_--may have royal blood in his veins! I simply -can't believe it!" - -"That remark about 'the Temple look' meant, I suppose," murmured Sue, -"that Louis looked so awfully when he was sick that it reminded Monsieur -how the dauphin must have appeared after his bad treatment and illness -in the Temple Tower. That never occurred to me. But I can't yet see any -connection with what you said about 'Louis the Locksmith.'" - -"That's easy," answered the Imp. "It was one of the first things I -thought of. Don't you remember how Louis XVI was always tinkering with -things and fixing locks, and how fond he was of mechanical work? The -whole court used to resent it. Well, the Meadows and Monsieur evidently -think that Louis has inherited that trait, and it drives them wild. -Don't you remember what Louis told us Miss Yvonne once said when she -found him fixing the lock on the kitchen-door? 'The ancient blood! It -will ruin everything!' Doesn't that indicate what they think?" - -"True enough," Sue had to admit. "But what foolishness all this is, -girls, when you think of Louis's history and the history of his family! -I was asking Father about Louis's folks not long ago, just out of -curiosity. He said that the Durants had lived in and owned that house -across the Green for many, many years, even longer than our descendants -have lived in our house. It was way back in the eighties when Louis's -father left here and went out West. He was a young man then, about -Father's age. In fact, they'd gone to school together. But this Charles -Durant went away out West to better himself, and rented the old house on -this Green. Father says he never saw him again, because Charles Durant -and the wife he'd married out there were suddenly killed in an accident. -The first Father heard about it was when old Mr. Meadows and his -daughter, whom nobody had ever seen before, came to this place with the -tiny baby who was Louis, and settled here for good. They never said much -about themselves, except that they were old friends of the Durant family -and that they had always lived in France. They explained that they had -come over here to take care of and bring up the last Durant baby, since -its parents had been killed. Now will you tell me how anything about a -dauphin could come in there?" - -"Maybe they didn't bring the baby from out West," suggested Carol, "but -brought him over from France with them. Maybe he isn't a Durant at all." - -"That's possible, too," said the Imp, "but, after all, it doesn't make -any difference where he came from, does it, if Louis is what we think he -is?" - -"But who is this 'Monsieur,' and what has _he_ to do with the whole -thing?" suddenly cried Carol. - -"That," admitted the Imp, "is what I can't figure out. I'm sure he must -be some relative. They say there are descendants of the Bourbons still -living. It wouldn't be strange if he wanted to hunt up a long-lost -relative, but why he should make such a secret of it is beyond me." - -"Bobs," cried Sue, suddenly going off at a tangent, "have you any idea -about those two other pictures in Monsieur's room,--the ones all covered -up? I've stayed awake nights trying to guess who on earth they could be, -and why he keeps them covered." - -"Why, of course I don't _know_," laughed the Imp, "but I can make a good -guess. I believe they're portraits of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. I -can't imagine why he keeps them covered, unless it's to keep Louis or -any one else from guessing anything about this affair. Of course they're -very well-known portraits, and almost any child would know who they were -at first sight. But it's different with the dauphin. Very few people -know that picture by sight. That's the only reason I can think of." - -It seemed such a simple explanation, after they'd heard it, that both -girls felt a little chagrined to think that they'd never had the wit to -work out this easy problem. But so humble were they now, after the Imp's -astounding revelation, that they were willing to admit their inferior -wit twenty times over. - -It was Sue who presently voiced the unspoken thought that was in each -mind. - -"I wonder how Louis will take all this?" she sighed. - -This was a matter that went beyond their conjecture. How, indeed, -_would_ Louis take it? - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -SUSPICIONS - - -May 17, 1914. It may seem a strange thing, but two whole weeks have gone -by since the Imp told us what she did, and nothing has happened at all. -By "nothing" I mean that no astonishing developments of any kind have -occurred. We went out from Carol's barn that day perfectly certain that -everything--about Louis, at least--would be changed and strange and -upheaved. We lived on a tiptoe of expectation for hours and days, but -all has gone on over there just the same as ever. I can't understand it. - -That morning, about eleven o'clock, Louis came over to tell us that -Monsieur was feeling much better, and that we need no longer worry about -him. We all gazed at him curiously,--_so_ curiously, I'm afraid, that he -noticed it. - -"What's the matter?" he asked. "You all act as if you were seeing a -spook. Is there anything wrong about me anywhere?" - -"Oh, no!" I hurried to assure him. "We were wondering how Monsieur was -getting on." - -"Well, he's getting on famously," said Louis, "but I certainly did -manage to upset him. I was afraid he wouldn't take the news well, but I -didn't dream it would be as bad as that. I only supposed he would rant -and tear his hair. I'm horribly sorry, for I'm actually getting a bit -fond of the old gentleman, queer as he is." - -"Did he say anything more to you about it?" asked the Imp. - -I knew she couldn't resist asking that. I was crazy to, myself, but -couldn't pluck up the courage. - -"Not another word," Louis replied. "I expected he'd say a whole -dictionary full. He did start off once with a word or two, but evidently -changed his mind. He hasn't even hinted at it since." - -This seemed a little queer, but we decided (after Louis had gone) that -Monsieur was probably putting off the ordeal till he felt stronger. That -would be entirely likely. So we told each other that by the next day -Louis would probably know the whole strange truth. - -But the next day came and went, and Louis was just the same and nothing -was changed, even at the end of a week. He told us that Monsieur had -never so much as alluded to the subject again, and, for _his_ part, he -was mighty glad that the affair had blown over. He said he was sure -Monsieur would get used to the notion after a while. - -So time has passed, and things remain just as they were. We cannot -imagine what has come over Monsieur,--Carol, the Imp, and myself, I -mean. Why is he waiting? Why doesn't he tell Louis, as he said would -have to? What does all this delay mean? - -But if everything remains outwardly the same, it is not so with the way -we three _feel_ about things. I don't know if I can explain the strange -change that has come over our feelings toward Louis and Monsieur and -all that concerns them,--especially toward Louis. All our lives he has -been just 'Louis Durant,' the nice boy who lived across the Green, who -played with us from the time we were babies and studied with us in the -same classes in school, who was just like our brother, except that he -didn't live in the same house. We have always thought of him in the same -way that we do of Dave. Now, however, everything is different. He -_isn't_ 'Louis Durant' any more. He's some strange, unknown, -long-way-off person, whose ancestors were monarchs of one of the -greatest countries on earth, and who might have been a king himself, if -things had gone a little differently. I simply _can't_ feel near to, and -well-acquainted with, a person like that. Carol says she can't, either, -and the Imp admits that she's felt so a good while longer than we have. - -It seems as if _our_ Louis had been taken away forever and a strange, -unapproachable person had been put in his place. Not that Louis -_himself_ acts any differently. He's exactly the same as ever, of -course, and he's said a dozen times in the course of the last week: - -"What's come over you girls, anyway? You're all the time gazing at me -with eyes as big as dinner-plates, and you act so queerly and are so -absent-minded that I don't know you! Has a realization of the fact that -I hope some day to be a full-fledged aviator had such a doleful effect -on you as all that? You haven't been the same since that day. I wish to -goodness that I'd never told you, if you're going to take it in this -silly way." - -Of course we try to assure him that nothing at all is the matter, but it -doesn't work very well. - -We three have talked a number of times about whether we ought to breathe -a word of what we suspect to Louis, but the Imp says positively, "No." -If he is to know, she says, he must learn it from Monsieur and from no -other. In fact, by rights she ought not to have let us into the secret, -and she wouldn't have done so, except that she thought there would be -no reason why she shouldn't after Monsieur had told Louis. Since he -apparently hasn't told him anything yet, it is our duty to keep the -secret. I guess she must be right. _I_ wouldn't want to be the one to -tell Louis, anyway. - -Our final exams for this year are coming in a week or so, and we are all -"cramming" hard, so I probably won't have a chance to think of much else -for some time to come. - - -June 3, 1914. Everything is just about the same as when I last wrote in -this journal. Nothing is changed, as far as we can see, in affairs -across the Green. We are all so busy working for and taking our -examinations that we haven't had much time to think about it, especially -Carol, who is weak in mathematics, and I, who always dread Latin. Only -the Imp remains unworried by these troubles. Her studies never did cause -her a moment's uneasiness, as far as I can see, though how she gets -through them, when she never makes even a pretense of studying, is -beyond me. - -Monsieur is about again in the usual way, and two or three times Carol -and I have had a few moments' conversation with him, while he was -strolling on the Green. I simply can't describe the uncanny feeling I -have when with him now. If he was a mysterious person before, he's a -million times more so now, and every moment that I'm talking to him I -find myself in a panic, for fear those eagle eyes of his will bore into -my mind and discover the fact that I know his secret. Of course I don't -suppose he realizes for a moment what he said that day he was taken so -ill, and certainly he does not dream that the Imp was keen enough to -unearth what she did. He is polite and courteous and stilted--and very -French--in his manner toward us, and I suppose he no more dreams that we -know what we do than he supposes that the sky will fall on him. - -One thing is beginning to disturb me very much. It's a suspicion that -occurred to the Imp, and that she confided to us a day or two ago. She -rather startled Carol and me by suddenly putting this question to us: - -"What do you figure out that Monsieur's plans are?" - -"How on earth should _we_ know?" said I. - -"Well, you must admit that he probably has some, or he wouldn't be -dangling around here so long," replied the Imp. "Why shouldn't he tell -Louis what he has to tell, and then go away or take Louis away, as the -case may be?" - -"What do _you_ think, Bobs?" asked Carol. "I'll warrant you have worked -it all out." - -"If I tell you what I think, you'll tell _me_ I'm a lunatic," declared -the Imp. "It does sound rather crazy, and yet why shouldn't it be so?" - -"Why shouldn't _what_ be so?" I cried. "You haven't even told us yet." - -"Well, here's my notion," she said. "Suppose--well, just suppose that -somebody wanted to overthrow the present government of France. Wouldn't -this be a lovely chance?" - -We were struck dumb with amazement by this astounding proposition. - -"I guess you _are_ a lunatic!" I said. "But even lunatics ought to have -a chance to explain themselves. Go on." - -"Oh, I know it sounds foolish," returned the Imp, "but, after all, is it -any more foolish than the possibility that our Louis may be a descendant -of a king of France? Just think what that means. Suppose there are a lot -of discontented descendants of royalists in France, who are dissatisfied -with the present form of government. And suppose that they hear there -_is_ a direct descendant of Louis XVI now living. Wouldn't it be a -lovely chance to get up a secret insurrection in his favor and so -restore him to the throne? It wouldn't be the first time that a republic -has been overthrown in that country, if you remember. And if this -Monsieur happens to be a Bourbon relation, he'd be all the more -interested." - -Just then Carol gave a gasp, and cried out: - -"Yes, and do you remember the way that first cablegram commenced? 'Time -almost ripe'! I always did think that was queer." - -"Exactly what I said," continued the Imp. "And what do you suppose -Monsieur is twiddling his thumbs around Paradise Green for? Just -because Louis isn't falling in with his plans as nicely as he'd hoped. -I'll warrant Monsieur has been horribly disappointed from the first, -because Louis was so thoroughly _American_ and didn't take a scrap of -interest in his French affairs. He sees plainly that Louis isn't going -to be easy to handle. And if _Louis_ won't stand for this restoration -business, then 'the fat's in the fire.' _That's_ what's bothering -Monsieur. And he's waiting around to see if he can't win Louis over -unconsciously somehow. At least, that's how I've figured it out." - -We couldn't help but agree with her, and wondered that we'd never -thought of it by ourselves. Besides, the more we thought of it, the more -we remembered dozens of little incidents that seem to confirm it. If we -all weren't so busy pegging away at our exams, and so had more time to -think about this, I feel sure that we could come to some definite -conclusion about it, but as matters stand, I, for one, am too bewildered -to know what to think. - -And Louis goes about as happy as a lark, unconscious of it all! - - -June 29, 1914. Examinations are over at last, and I'm thankful to say -that we all passed, except that Carol has a "condition" in mathematics -that she'll have to make up during the summer. Anyhow, it's over, and we -can breathe more freely and look forward to vacation. - -Last evening after tea the Imp asked Carol and myself to go for a walk -with her, as she had something important she wanted to tell us. We -suspected that she'd thought out something else about Louis, so we went -quite willingly. Otherwise, I'm bound to confess, we'd have been bored -stiff with the prospect of spending our time with her. It was quite -true. She _had_ thought of something new. - -"Girls," she began, "has it occurred to you that if what we suspect -about Monsieur and Louis is true, it's a very serious affair?" - -We said we supposed so, but that we didn't see how we could help it. - -"That's just it," she answered. "We _ought_ to help it, somehow. I told -you once that this was a matter that might affect the world, and you can -easily see now that it is. Ought we to simply sit down and let it slide -gaily along?" - -"But what on earth can _we_ do about it?" I demanded. "Just remember -that we're nothing but three young girls, one not even out of public -school, and that not a soul on earth would believe us if we were to make -such fools of ourselves as to tell what, after all, we only suspect." - -"History has sometimes been in the hands of as young people as -ourselves," she remarked. I'm sure I don't know where the Imp gets all -her information, and yet somehow I'm bound to believe her. _I_ couldn't -think of a single case where history had been in the hands of any one of -our age, but I didn't dare say so, because she would probably have -promptly pointed out half a dozen cases. So I said nothing. - -"I haven't made up my mind what we ought to do," she went on, "but I'm -sure _something_ must be done, and pretty soon, too!" - -"Suppose we begin by telling Father," I suggested. "He has a pretty -level head about most things." - -"Pooh!" she scoffed. "He'd just laugh his head off at us, and tell us to -run away and play and forget all about it. You know Father doesn't take -much stock in anything that isn't agriculture." This was quite true, and -we saw at once that the Imp had the right of it. - -"No, don't speak to any one yet," she added. "We'll keep the secret a -while longer, till I've thought out a better plan." - - -This morning another queer thing happened. As there was no school, we -were all sitting on the veranda discussing the startling news in the -paper, the assassination of the Archduke of Austria, which happened -yesterday. Just then Louis came over to ask us to go out in the launch. - -"What do you think of the news?" he asked. - -We said it was awful, and that we were wondering what would happen next. - -"You ought to have seen Monsieur when he read it," went on Louis, -laughing at the recollection. "He got up, crumpled the paper into a -ball, and stormed about the place as if he were having a fit. I asked -him why he was so excited about it, and he immediately began to reel off -a lot about the 'balance of power' in Europe,--how it would be upset and -what Austria would be likely to do, where Russia would object and how -France might be affected, and a whole lot more that I couldn't begin to -understand. He's a great student of international politics, he says, and -this news seemed to upset him a lot. I'm sure I can't see why." - -The Imp poked me so hard in the ribs that I almost shrieked aloud, but I -saw at once what she must be thinking. _Are_ Monsieur's plans upset by -this, I wonder? Or are we just imagining trouble where there is none? -I'm sure I don't know. But of one thing I'm certain. I never realized -how strange it would feel to go off for a picnic up the river in a -launch run by a boy in a pair of paint bespattered overalls, whose -ancestors sat on the throne of France and who might, in his turn, become -the future ruler of that country. - -Anyhow, I don't like it. I'm not happy, and I wish things were just as -they used to be. So does Carol, but I'm afraid the Imp enjoys all the -excitement. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A SOLEMN CONCLAVE--AND WHAT CAME OF IT - - -It was a hot morning toward the middle of July. About nine o'clock three -girls might have been seen issuing from the Birdseys' gate, two carrying -between them a well-filled lunch-basket. The third,--none other than the -Imp,--bore a couple of shawls and two or three books, also a -thermos-bottle of large proportions. - -"I know you're not awfully keen about this picnic," she was saying to -the others, "but it's only because you're a lazy pair and desperately -afraid of getting a little overheated. It'll be cool and pleasant down -at the old boat-house on the river. We can put on bathing-suits and have -a swim first, and then eat our lunch when we feel like it." - -"But I don't see why you're so anxious for this picnic just to-day," -grumbled Carol. "It's blazing hot getting there, and we could have a -much more comfortable lunch at home and go for our swim this afternoon." - -"Yes, and I was planning to do a lot of work in the house this morning," -added Sue, discouragingly. "I wanted to rearrange my room and make that -new waist for which Mother gave me the material. I hate to have things -so upset." - -"Look here!" exploded the Imp. "Didn't I make all the sandwiches and -pack the lunch-basket and do every blessed thing for this picnic before -you were even out of bed? Do be a little grateful, just for once. I had -a reason, and a precious good one, for wanting to get off by ourselves -to-day. I want to talk over something with you." - -The other two pricked up their ears. - -"What is it?" they demanded, with an increase of interest. - -"Oh, yes," scolded the Imp, "you're anxious enough, now that you think -there's something worth while in it. I've a great mind not to tell -you." - -"Oh, go on, Imp!" soothed Carol. "You can't blame us for being a little -grumpy on this hot morning. Have you found out something new?" - -"I'll tell you after we've had our swim," was all the Imp would -vouchsafe, and with that they were forced to be content. At the end of a -hot walk across the meadows in the blinding sun, they emerged on the -river bank at the cool little boat-house under the willows. Here they -donned bathing-suits and splashed about in the river for an hour. When -they were dressed again they lounged on the wide platform, amply shaded -by one immense willow that overhung the water. They were comfortable and -lazy and cool, and even the two reluctant ones acknowledged themselves -quite happy. - -"Well, let's have lunch," suggested the Imp, "and while we eat I'll tell -you what's been in my mind for several days." - -They spread out the sandwiches and fruit, and during the meal the Imp, -who had not put on her shoes and stockings, sat on the edge of the -platform and dabbled her feet in the water. - -"I guess I don't need to give you three guesses as to what I'm going to -speak of," she remarked, between two mouthfuls of a sandwich. - -"Oh, no; it's Monsieur, of course, and Louis," replied Sue. "Has -anything new come up? _I_ haven't heard of anything. Louis has been away -at Bridgeton a lot, and I imagine he's been with that Page Calvin, -puttering around the old biplane he's always talking about. I've had a -mind to ask Dave, who certainly knows, but of course _he_ wouldn't give -me any definite information. I think Louis is trying to pluck up courage -to begin work on that model, but he knows he'll have another awful fuss -with Monsieur when he does." - -"That isn't what _I_ was going to talk about, anyway," said the Imp. "It -may all be true, but something more important has been on my mind for -several days. It's this: How much longer are we going to let this affair -go on, and do nothing about it?" - -"You've asked that before," remarked Sue, uncomfortably, "and I can't -for the life of me see what we _can_ do." - -"You've made that brilliant remark before," replied the Imp, scornfully, -"and it doesn't help matters one bit. The point is that things have come -to such a state that something _has_ to be done, and done pretty soon. I -had a little talk with Monsieur yesterday, and I'm going to tell you -some of the things he said. He was sitting out on that seat on the Green -about five o'clock in the afternoon, reading his paper. You and Carol -were off down at the village getting the mail, and I didn't have a thing -to do, so I strolled over to talk to him. - -"He began by saying the news was bad, very bad. I was sort of surprised, -because I'd looked at the paper every morning, and there hasn't been a -single exciting thing in it since that archduke what's-his-name was -assassinated some time ago. I thought that fuss had all blown over, but -Monsieur says it hasn't, and that Europe is on the verge of some -tremendous upheaval. He said that that murder was only the match that -would start the conflagration, or something like that. Anyhow, he ended -up with these words: - -"'I tell you, petite mademoiselle, I have seen it coming this long, long -time. Kingdoms will fall; republics will totter; the face of Europe will -be changed. France, France herself, will experience a mighty upheaval! -It is inevitable!'" - -The Imp stopped impressively, and her hearers were evidently thrilled. - -"What does he mean? What _can_ he mean?" she went on, her voice -unconsciously rising higher and higher, "except that he's mixed up in -all this. If Austria and Russia and Germany and England and France are -all going to be in a big fuss, as he suggested, can't you see what a -lovely opportunity it would be for him to put through this scheme about -restoring the Bourbon monarchy? What else can he mean by saying, -'Republics will totter; France herself will experience a mighty -upheaval'? I tell you, girls, it's time this thing was reported to the -authorities. I'm sure our government could prevent it, if it only knew, -and then, too, if we really care anything about Louis, we ought to -protect him, even if he _is_ a royalty,--I'm sure he doesn't _want_ to -be one!--from being caught in all this mix-up." - -"But how can we report it to the authorities?" asked Carol, in a scared -voice. "I wouldn't know the first thing about how to go about it." - -"Then I'll tell you," announced the Imp, dramatically. "I don't believe -that in so important a thing as this we ought to stop short of the very -highest authority there is. I propose that we write to the President -himself. And I propose that we do it this very afternoon. I've thought -it all out. I've even brought along the things to do it with." - -True enough, she produced a fountain-pen and some notepaper. So -impressed were her hearers that Sue could only quaver, in a voice that -shook with nervousness: - -"Well, you go on and write it, Bobs. I'm sure you'll know what to say. -And we'll all sign it, if you wish. Perhaps that will make it look more -important. But somehow I feel as if we ought to tell Father first." - -"Then you'll spoil everything," declared the Imp. "He wouldn't believe -it, to begin with, and by the time he was convinced it would probably be -too late. No, this must go off to-night. How ought I to address the -President of the United States,--'Dear Sir' or 'Your Honor' or what?" - -"If mademoiselle will delay this proceeding for a moment," said a -strange voice with startling unexpectedness, almost at her elbow, "it -may not be necessary to write the note." - -The Imp turned about so abruptly that she dropped her fountain-pen into -the river. The two others, fairly turned to stone in their astonishment -and fright, sat motionless. - -It was Monsieur himself. He had emerged from the bushes close to the -water's edge, and now stood beside the platform of the boat-house. As no -one of the three sufficiently recovered their wits to address him, he -went on: - -"I owe you a thousand apologies for this intrusion and for being an -unwilling eavesdropper. I came to a spot among the trees a short -distance away early this morning, before the sun was hot. I have often -been there before. The nook is a favorite one of mine. I bring my book -and Mademoiselle Yvonne contrives me a little lunch, so that I do not -have to go back in the heat of the day. I must have fallen asleep before -you arrived, for I was not aware of your proximity till I awoke. Then -you were eating your luncheon and conversing. I was about to make my -presence known to you, when I caught the drift of your conversation and -astonishment forced me to listen. Mesdemoiselles, I know not how you -have arrived at this conclusion, but I take it that you think me a -conspirator, a--a plotter against the government of one of the world's -greatest nations. You think it is your duty to report me to the -authorities of your country. Is it not so?" - -It seemed as if the three found it impossible to break their abashed -silence. At length the Imp plucked up sufficient courage. - -"Yes, I guess that's about it," she admitted, nervously. - -"Would you be so good as to inform me on what grounds?" he inquired, -with the courtesy that never failed him. - -The Imp glanced at her companions and back again to Monsieur. They were -plainly caught in a trap. Should she tell what she knew, or refuse point -blank? For an appreciable moment she hesitated. It was evident that if -they put Monsieur in possession of the facts, they also would put -themselves quite completely in his power. That would, on the face of it, -be a foolish proceeding. Yet how could they do less? There was something -about the old French gentleman's perfect courtesy and frankness that -disarmed even the suspicions of the Imp. While she hesitated, however, -Sue, to her own and every one else's astonishment, took up the cudgels -in his behalf. - -"I think it is only fair to tell Monsieur what we have been thinking," -she said in a trembling voice. "He may be able to show us that we are in -the wrong." - -Monsieur turned to her with a grave bow. - -"I am sure there is some misunderstanding," he declared. "I have heard -only enough to cause me to suspect that my actions and motives here may -have been misjudged." Then he turned once more to the Imp. - -"P'tite Mademoiselle Hélène, you and I have always, so I thought, been -the best of friends. May I not understand from you the cause of this -serious suspicion of me?" - -Then and there the Imp, her feet still unconsciously dabbling in the -river, told Monsieur in halting fashion the whole history of their -discoveries about the portrait and their consequent conjectures. He -listened to it all, an inscrutable expression in his eyes, till she had -finished. When the recital was over he stood quite still for several -moments, while the others waited breathlessly. - -"You are marvelous children--you Americans," he said at last, -"especially petite Hélène here! Who would have dreamed that you could -piece together this story so accurately, with so little ground to work -on? Yes, so accurately, as far as its foundation goes, for there you are -right, astonishingly right. But, my good little friends, your premises -may be right, but your conclusions are most deplorably wrong." - -"Do you mean that we guessed right about the portrait and Louis, but -were wrong about what _you_ intend to do?" demanded the Imp, scrambling -to her feet and approaching Monsieur excitedly. - -"I will permit you to judge of that after you have heard my story," -replied Monsieur. "For I will now put you in possession of the whole -truth, since you have discovered so much. Allow me, if you please, to -sit down, while I render this accounting of myself." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MONSIEUR'S STORY - - -He stepped up to the platform and took a seat on one end of an old bench -that flanked one side of it. On the other end sat Carol and Sue. The -Imp, unable in her excitement to remain seated anywhere, stood near him, -her great, blue eyes wide with wonder. A catbird sang at intervals in -the willow above them, and the incessant _lap-lap_ of the river ran like -a musical accompaniment in their ears. Not one of the three girls was -ever to forget this strange moment in their lives, not even its -beautiful setting. - -"It is hard for me to know just where to begin," Monsieur at length -broke the silence by saying. "But, as I have said, _mes enfants_, you -three have worked out for yourselves a difficult problem, so perhaps it -is best that I commence by telling you where you were right, and end by -pointing out where you erred. I hasten to begin. - -"It may have been a foolish whim of mine that I bring with me to this -country the three portraits that are so dear to me, and especially -foolish to leave the one unveiled. I had, however, my reason for that, -but I did not contemplate that the public was to be admitted to my room, -as it had to be during our--during Louis' serious accident. All this, -however, is beside the point. I will begin by telling you that I am not, -as you have so shrewdly suspected, this 'Monsieur de Vaubert' that I -call myself here. Truly, 'de Vaubert' is a part of my name, but it is -not all. In France I am known as the Marquis Philippe de Vaubert de -Fenouil. It is a title that is ancient and honorable. It goes back to -the time of Louis XIII--yes, and even before that. When our Louis -discovered the 'F' on my handkerchief, he was entirely right in his -surmises, and I was not very astute to leave it lying about. -_N'est-ce-pas?_" - -He smiled deprecatingly at his three listeners, with a smile so -genuine, so utterly friendly, that they found their dark suspicions -melting away, even before his tale was well begun. - -"To go back to the portrait, however. Yes, it is a very beautiful copy -of Madame Lebrun's original. It was executed many years ago by an -exceedingly clever copyist, and I doubt if many would know it from the -original. It is my dearest possession. I will tell you why. - -"My little friend, petite Hélène here, by her wonderful ingenuity and -perception has deduced the conjecture that the ill-used dauphin, who -should have been Louis XVII, did not die in the Temple Tower, as history -has recorded it. There have, indeed, been many legends to that effect. -But the truest one, the truth, was never known to the world. There are -remaining to-day but two families who are in possession of the -facts,--my own and that of our friends the Meadows, whose real name, as -you perhaps know, is Mettot. All the rest of that wonderful brotherhood -which helped to rescue him are dead and gone, and the secret is dead -with them. - -"In order that you may fully understand, I will now give you a short -account of the real story of the dauphin's rescue. As you know through -your researches, after Simon the Cobbler was released from the care of -the young king, the dauphin was placed in a small room and completely -isolated from the world by bolts and bars. Not even his jailers saw him, -only hearing him speak through an aperture in the door. It was the most -inhuman treatment of a child that the world has known, and it is a -thousand wonders that the boy survived. But he did. At the end of an -awful six months, when Robespierre himself was sent to the guillotine -and Barras came into power, the boy was removed from this horrible -incarceration and brought to a large, clean room, where he was taken -care of by two or three guardians chosen for their humanity and -kindliness. - -"It was at this period that a plot was formed by a league of -warmhearted, loyal men,--not only royalists, but republicans, too,--to -rescue the dauphin from his long imprisonment and send him somewhere, -possibly out of the country, to live out the rest of his life in peace. -This league was known as 'The Brotherhood of Liberation,' and the world -to-day would stand amazed, did it know the members, the many _famous_ -members, who composed it. It has even been whispered that Barras himself -and the great Napoleon Bonaparte--then young, poor, and comparatively -unknown--were concerned in this plot. All that, however, is as it may -be. - -"But the main thing is this. The brotherhood was accustomed to meet -secretly at the house of my grandfather, another Marquis de Fenouil, in -Paris, for he was one of the chief leaders and originators of the -scheme. Among them was a young fellow scarcely more than five years -older than the dauphin, one Jean Mettot, who was deeply and devotedly -interested in the plan. It seems that he and his little foster-sister, -Yvonne Clouet, had once become acquainted with the dauphin as he played -in happier years in his garden of the Tuileries. Through his -intervention, the queen, Marie Antoinette herself, had given the young -fellow's foster-mother quite a large sum to defray the overdue taxes on -her home and thus enable her to keep it for her children. So grateful -was this poor washerwoman, Mère Clouet, and her little daughter Yvonne -and her foster-son, Jean Mettot, whom she had adopted from the foundling -hospital, that they had vowed to help the poor, ill-used dauphin, even -to the extent of risking their lives for him. - -"It was Jean Mettot who played one of the most important roles in the -plan to smuggle the dauphin out of the Temple Tower. He was employed in -that citadel as cook's assistant, and thus was able to give aid right on -the spot, as it were. One of the dauphin's three guardians, Gomin, had -also become a member of the brotherhood, else the plan could never have -been carried out. - -"On a given day a sick child who greatly resembled the dauphin was -smuggled into the Tower in a basket of clean linen brought by Mère -Clouet, laundress for the Temple. This child was so ill that there was -no possibility of his recovery. He was speedily substituted for the -dauphin, who was carried up to the great unused attic of the Temple. -There he was kept for several weeks, unknown to the world and tended -only by Jean Mettot. When the sick child at length passed away, the -authorities proclaimed that the dauphin was dead and that there was no -further need to guard the Tower. It was then that the _real_ dauphin was -smuggled out of the Temple in a basket of soiled linen and taken to the -home of the Clouets, where he remained for several days. He was finally -removed by some of the members of the brotherhood in high authority, and -was sent to a distant and obscure corner of France to be cared for and -brought up, under an assumed name, by humble people. The brotherhood was -then disbanded, being first sworn to secrecy by an inviolable oath never -to reveal what had been done. - -"The boy, Jean Mettot, later became a soldier in Napoleon's army and -rose to the rank of officer. He finally married little Yvonne Clouet, -and, as you have doubtless surmised, this John Meadows whom you know is -his descendant,--his grandson, in short. The original Jean Mettot, -however, and my grandfather, the marquis, kept closely in touch with -each other for a time, drawn together by their mutual love and loyalty -to the little dauphin. It was Jean Mettot alone who, several years after -the escape of the dauphin, was summoned by that young man to Havre, in -order that the dauphin might bid farewell to his rescuer. The dauphin -was sailing for America, never to return. He intended, he said, to live -there incognito, in some obscure capacity, as he had no desire ever to -return to France and certainly never wished to rule over that nation. - -"Jean Mettot later attempted to communicate the news of the dauphin's -departure to my grandfather, but found that he had suddenly passed away -and that his son had assumed the title. As Mettot was not certain -whether the secret had been handed down to the son, he did not reveal -his news. Many years later, when he was a middle-aged man, the notion -took hold of him to go to America and see if he could discover any trace -of the dauphin. He had nothing whatever to assist him, except the -assumed name of the dauphin, 'Louis Charles Durant,' and the fact that -the ship on which he had sailed had been bound for a New England port. I -think it was Boston. With only these two points to aid him, he sailed -for America to engage in his almost hopeless task. - -"In all the years he had heard not so much as one syllable from the -exile, but even this did not discourage him. He began his search in New -England, shrewdly suspecting that 'Louis Durant' might not have traveled -very far from his first landing-place. Many weeks and months of -absolutely useless and fruitless effort followed. No one in any of the -large cities, or even in the smaller towns, seemed to have heard of -'Louis Charles Durant' or of any one corresponding to his description. -It was by sheer accident--when Jean Mettot's horse (he made it a -practice to travel about on horseback) went lame one stormy night right -by your Paradise Green--that he was forced to ask for a night's shelter -in one of the only two houses on the Green at that time. It was on the -door of the Durant house that he knocked, and none other than the -dauphin himself opened it!" - -At this point in the narrative Sue and Carol breathed a long sigh of -intense interest, and the Imp came closer and rested her hand on -Monsieur's knee. - -"Yes, it is marvelous, is it not?" he went on. "There is a proverb which -says, 'Truth is stranger than fiction,' and I have always found it so. I -leave you to imagine the meeting between those two, for they quickly -recognized each other. After a time Mettot heard the whole story from -the dauphin. It ran like this: - -"He had come to America, landing in New England and wandering about for -a time, almost penniless and earning his way as he went by doing odds -and ends of labor for the farmers. Singularly enough, he enjoyed it. -Does it seem strange to you, _mes enfants_, that a king should enjoy -himself in this fashion? Ah, but he no longer wished to be a king! Not -for all the riches of the earth would he have gone back to his country -and assumed his rightful title. His terrible childhood years in prison -had given him a longing only for freedom and independence of thought and -action and a desire for the most absolute simplicity of life. - -"To Jean Mettot he confided how at length he had drifted out to this -present farmstead, had apprenticed himself to the good farmer who owned -it, and how for several years he had served him faithfully and well for -a sum that was a mere pittance, but on which he could live happily. Two -years later the farmer's daughter, who had married some time before, -came home to her father's house a widow. After a time she and the -dauphin became mutually attracted to each other and married. Six months -after their marriage the farmer died, leaving his farm to his daughter -and her husband, the unknown dauphin. At the time of Jean Mettot's visit -they had a fine little son, then ten or twelve years old, and were as -happy and contented as could well be imagined. - -"Mettot made them quite an extended visit, but never did the dauphin -reveal to his wife that he had ever known Mettot before, or give the -least hint of his own identity. He said that he preferred these things -to remain secrets forever, buried in the past. He told Mettot that he -desired his descendants to remain in complete ignorance of his past and -of their own origin. Should a crisis ever arise (now unforeseen by him), -when it would be wise for any of his descendants to know their -forefather's history, he had prepared for such an emergency a document -which he had securely hidden away. He acquainted Jean with its -hiding-place and gave him permission to transmit the secret to his own -descendants. On no account, however, was it to be communicated to the -dauphin's descendants, unless the aforementioned crisis should arise. - -"Jean Mettot went back to France, and never again saw the son of Louis -XVI. But he continued to keep in touch with 'Louis Charles Durant' of -America, and to his own son he communicated the strange secret. And his -son, in turn, communicated it to a son of his own, the present Jean -Meadows whom you know. The dauphin died when he was scarcely more than -middle-aged, for his constitution was never robust after the cruel -hardships of his childhood. The son whom he left lived to a ripe old age -on the same farm, and left an heir in his place to continue the line. -This child, the father of our own Louis, becoming discontented, as he -reached manhood, with the life on a simple New England farm, leased the -property, as you probably know, and went out West to make his fortune. -He married a young western girl on the Canadian frontier, and both were -mortally injured in a terrible accident on one of the Great Lakes' -steamers. He had time, however, before he died, to send word to France, -to this present Jean Mettot, leaving their baby son in his care. The two -families had always kept in touch, though none of the present generation -had seen each other. - -"I am sure you must be wondering during all this recital where _I_ come -into the story. It is about time for me to make my entrance. That is -what I am about to disclose. Mettot and his daughter Yvonne, on hearing -the sad news, forsook all and came to America to take possession of the -baby, which was still being cared for at the hospital where its parents -had died. The Mettot family had not prospered with the years, the -present Jean's father having unfortunately lost the modest fortune that -the original Jean had amassed. They were living in a humble way in a -small French village, and had practically sacrificed everything to come -over to America on what they considered an almost sacred charge. - -"What, then, was to be done? Jean Mettot cast about in his mind for some -time, considering the matter, but at length came to the conclusion that -the crisis, spoken of by the original dauphin, had now arrived and that -the time was come to disclose the secret to some one. But to whom? That -was the great question. Suddenly he bethought himself of me, the present -Marquis de Fenouil. He had not the slightest idea whether the secret of -the dauphin's escape had been transmitted in our family, but, taking the -risk, he wrote me a full account of the whole proceeding, throwing the -present little orphan, so to speak, on my mercy. - -"And now at last I enter. I cannot, indeed, give you the slightest idea -what this wonderful news meant to me. The secret _had_ been -transmitted,--aye, it had become a sacred tradition in our family! Many -long and fruitless searches had we made,--I, my father, and my -grandfather before us,--to trace, if possible, the fate of that lost -dauphin. Not one of us but would have sacrificed his all to have made -sure of the after-history of our adored little monarch. The portrait -that you have seen, and those of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, which I -have always kept veiled, have been our most cherished family -possessions, especially that of the dauphin. We worshipped the memory of -that heroic little uncrowned monarch. - -"Can you then understand what it meant to me to find myself at last on -the track of a true descendant of the dauphin? For a time I could -scarcely credit it. But I knew from my grandfather the part played by -the original Jean Mettot, and I could see no reason to doubt that this -tale of his descendant was genuine. My first impulse was to send for -them at once, and to bring the child up as my own son, till he should be -of suitable age to disclose the secret to him. But there were a number -of strong objections to that course. I need not mention them all. One is -sufficient. For the past twenty years I have not been strong. My health -is only sustained by constant treatment from physicians, and I spend -three quarters of my time at sanitariums and health resorts. I am -seldom, if ever, in residence at my French estate. There were a number -of other legal reasons why it was not wise for me to appear to adopt a -child, presumably as my heir, which you would scarcely understand, so I -will not recount them. Suffice it to say that I decided on a course -which may seem strange to you, but which appealed to me as wisest at the -time. - -"The child was a mere baby, not yet a year old. I concluded that for the -present it would be best to leave him in America, the land that his -kingly ancestor had chosen to adopt. In Jean Mettot's name I leased the -same Durant farmhouse that belonged to his father and that one day would -be his own, sent the Mettots there with their infant charge, and -instructed them to bring up the boy in ignorance of his real ancestry, -until such time as I should deem it best to come over to America and -take charge of his affairs. They have worthily fulfilled that charge, -having kept me constantly informed of his growth and progress. - -"In truth, I never supposed the interval would be so long before I -should find it possible to come here. One matter after another,--my -health chiefly,--has delayed me from year to year, though I have planned -the trip more times than I care to count. During this past year, -however, the news sent by our friends the Mettots proved somewhat -disturbing to me. In order to explain this, I must now disclose to you -my plans for 'Louis Charles Durant.' They are, as you will see, far from -any schemes to restore the Bourbon monarchy in France. That would be in -direct opposition to the wishes of the dead dauphin. No, I wished him -to learn of his wonderful ancestry secretly, and only as something to be -proud of. I wished him to grow up as my own son, and, when the time was -ripe, I would legally adopt him. At first there were several obstacles -in the way, but these have lately been removed. In my own heart, -however, he would never be my son, but the _king_ who should rightfully -have ruled over me. I wished him to study statecraft and become a great -political light--a French statesman--and perhaps some day make a great -name in the world. He should be a king of men in deed and act, if he -could not be in name and right. These were my ambitions for him. I felt -that he _must_ fall in with them." - -The three listeners stirred uneasily, and the catbird in the tree above -them uttered its odd, mournful cry. Monsieur paused a few seconds to -gaze out over the blue heat-haze on the river. Then he went on: - -"It was, therefore, disturbing tidings that I began to receive from Jean -Mettot. At first his reports had been satisfactory in every respect. -The boy was upright, manly, and entirely lovable in nature. Up to his -tenth or twelfth year he had developed no traits that would seem in -opposition to my plans for him. But of late my news of him had been very -unwelcome to me. To begin with, he openly avowed that he cared nothing -for France or French history and traditions. He was American to the -core, and he actually boasted of it. This was not surprising, however, -considering the fact that he had been born and brought up in this land. -I promised myself that this difficulty would be easily overcome later. -But there was something that troubled me more. - -"The Mettots began to report that the boy was developing a strongly -_mechanical_ turn of mind, that he was constantly working with tools and -contriving unique devices of his own for various mechanical -purposes,--in short, that he was following directly in the footsteps of -the unfortunate Louis XVI. It has always been my contention that if that -monarch had devoted himself more to the affairs of his kingdom and less -to puttering about with tools and locks, he never would have lost his -throne. It was an ominous sign to me. But even then I hoped that it -might prove merely a childish whim and fade away into other interests as -the years progressed. It did not, as you very well know. I now feel it -to be a family inheritance, impossible to overcome. I have resigned -myself to it, only praying that in time other matters more important may -overgrow and stifle the tendency. - -"But I also realized that the day could no longer be delayed when I must -make the trip across the ocean and see with my own eyes the -great-grandson of our long-lost dauphin. Perhaps you think it strange -that I did not send for him to be brought to me. But I had my reasons -for that, also. I wished to see the boy in his natural environment. I -wished him to know nothing of me. I wished to study him and learn his -character, watch him at his work and play, observe him with his friends, -and discover for myself his ambitions and tendencies. How could I know -that I would really care for him _personally_, or he for me, unless I -followed this course? I loved him already for his _ancestry_, but I -wished to love him, if possible, for _himself_. And as I am an old, -childless, lonely man, I wished him to love me for _myself_. Only by -coming here incognito, I deemed, could this be accomplished. - -"Well, _mes enfants_, I came. The history of my stay here you are fairly -well acquainted with. At first, I confess, I was bitterly disappointed. -The boy was a fine, upstanding, splendid specimen of American boyhood, -but he was thoroughly _American_. He resembled in no way that I could -see, facially at least, the portrait that I had brought with me. That, -of course, was entirely natural; yet I was disappointed. At times I -thought I could discern a fleeting resemblance, but it was always -fleeting. Only at the time when he was so ill did I seem to see in him a -resemblance to the little dauphin after he had been some time in -prison." - -At this point the three girls glanced at each other, and, noticing the -exchanged look, Monsieur went on: - -"Yes, that is what I meant by the 'Temple look,' which remark you say -Louis overheard. But to proceed. The worst disappointment, however, was -that terrible mechanical trait, a trait I found it impossible to -overcome and to which I have now resigned myself. We had our quarrels -and disputes over that subject, as you know, but at last I felt myself -unable to cope with so strong a passion. I pass on to other things. - -"I need scarcely tell you that during these passing months I have come -to care deeply and tenderly for this boy. He may be different, entirely -different from my ideal of him, but I have come to recognize his fine, -genuine manliness, the entire lovableness of his character. His attitude -toward me has never deviated from the courteous and thoughtful and -attentive, except in the one instance of his boat, and I myself was at -fault there! I feel that he is even developing a sort of fondness for me -with the passing of time. When you realize that he knows nothing -whatever of my real identity or my object in coming here (I think he -rather suspects both at times), this is all the more admirable. As for -my feeling for him, I _adore_ him, mesdemoiselles,--I can say no more. -He is the worthy descendant of a king, even though he be not _French_ in -anything but ancestry. - -"You can easily see, then, what it meant to me when he made that -astonishing announcement a few weeks ago. Could anything be more -unutterably terrible for me to hear than that this most dangerous of all -careers should be the chosen one of my adopted son-to-be? It is -incredible to me, even yet. I am praying daily that the whim shall pass -from him. In the first shock of it I thought that the time had come for -me to disclose the truth to him, whether I was ready to do so or not. -Yet on second thought I again hesitated. There is one link in the chain -that is still missing. It is for that I am waiting, for I do not wish -him to be made acquainted with the secret till I can lay the complete -evidence before him. - -"You remember, perhaps, that I spoke of a document, prepared by the -dauphin and hidden by him in some spot, the secret of which he -disclosed only to the original Jean Mettot. It was his wish that the -document be found and delivered to his descendants, should a crisis ever -arise when it would be deemed necessary to disclose the secret to them. -That document, I am sorry to say, we have as yet been unable to -discover. The original Mettot wrote the directions for finding the -hiding-place in a sealed letter and left it with his son, who, in turn, -left it in care of our John Meadows. Unfortunately, when this John -Meadows and his daughter came to America they failed to bring the letter -with them, because they supposed that they would return at once to -France. More unfortunately still, since they have been here their little -home was burned to the ground, and the letter, of course, disappeared in -the conflagration. Meadows himself never read the letter, and he has -only a vague remembrance that his grandfather once said in his hearing, -when he was only a small child, that he believed the hiding-place to be -somewhere near a chimney. That is absolutely the only clue we have had -to work on. - -"I need not tell you that the search for that document has been -unceasing since I first arrived, and even before that. Every nook and -cranny, from attic to cellar, has been ransacked without the slightest -result. Unless the house itself is torn down, I see no possible hope of -finding it. However, I do not yet utterly despair; and when the document -does come to light, I will make the great disclosure to Louis and -formulate my future plans. Circumstances _may_ be such, however, that I -shall have to put him in possession of the secret before the document is -found. I should be sorry for that, as I wish him to feel that our -evidence concerning this strange story is complete. - -"And now, my friends, you know it all. I have hidden nothing from you. I -have shown you my inmost heart. I have only one request--that you still -keep this thing a secret from every one, especially from Louis." - -He stopped, and there was silence. The catbird above them had flown -away. The river was unruffled by the slightest breath. The water had -ceased its _lap-lap_. The afternoon stillness was complete. Carol and -Sue sat motionless in their corner, their hands clasped, their eyes wide -and intent. - -Suddenly the Imp flung herself to the ground and buried her face on the -old French gentleman's knees, a passion of choking sobs shaking her -little body. He laid his hand on her head and murmured in a startled -voice: - -"Little one, little one! What is it that troubles you?" - -"O Monsieur, Monsieur!" she gasped. "What a little _beast_ I've been! -Can you ever forgive me? _How_ I have misjudged you!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -AUGUST FOURTH, 1914 - - -July 27, 1914. It is ten days since that strange afternoon down at the -old boat-house on the river. I have been living in a kind of dream ever -since. I cannot somehow believe that I'm just plain, ordinary Susan -Birdsey, living on out-of-the-way little Paradise Green, to whom nothing -unusual ever has or ever will happen. Paradise Green is no longer the -prosaic place it was. It is the secret spot chosen by history as the -home of one of her most romantic characters. Who would ever have thought -it? And I, Susan Birdsey, am one of the three humble persons Fate has -chosen to be the sharer of this marvelous secret. - -I cannot help thinking of what Miss Cullingford said when she suggested -that we keep a journal,--that some journals had been interesting and -valuable additions to history. That, at least, is what I never supposed -mine could possibly be. And yet, if she could only see it _now_! But she -never will, of course, nor any one else, for I have promised Monsieur -that I will never, without his permission, reveal a single word of what -he has told us. This is not, he says, because it would harm any one, or -make the slightest change in the world's affairs, but because of the -poor "lost dauphin's" wish. - -We three have talked of it incessantly,--Carol, the Imp, and I. Somehow -the wonder of it never grows any less. That such a thing _could_ happen -here, here on little Paradise Green! And yet the Imp says it is no new -thing in history for an exiled king to hide himself away in a strange -country amid the humblest surroundings. Where _does_ she get all these -historical facts, anyway? Even Carol, who is fond of history and reads a -lot of it, doesn't know half as much about things as the Imp does. I am -changing my opinion of the Imp very much lately. I used to think she was -such a scatter-brained, harum-scarum child, without a serious thought -in her head. But I guess we really didn't _know_ her then, and misjudged -her a lot. - -But it's Louis, our Louis, who seems to us the strangest, the most -impossible thing to believe. Before we heard Monsieur's story we -imagined this about him, but half the time we told ourselves it wasn't, -it _couldn't_ be true. We _must_ be on the wrong track, we said. Now we -know that it is all true, and Louis can never be "our Louis," the friend -we've always known, any more. How could he be? To begin with, he's going -to be the adopted son of the Marquis de Fenouil (I _hope_ that's the way -to spell it!), a great nobleman of France, and go away to France and -inherit a title, and probably we'll never see him again as long as we -live. In addition, as if that weren't enough, he's not the plain -American boy we always thought him, but the great-great-grandson of a -king of France. And _we_ know this, even if the rest of the world does -not, and can never, never feel on the same footing with him again. Not -that that will make any difference, I suppose, if he's to go away from -here for good. But it's like losing your brother,--like losing Dave, for -instance,--only Dave never has been, especially of late years, as -friendly and near to us as Louis has been. - -We have seen almost nothing of Louis since that day with Monsieur. He -has been to Bridgeton every day, spending the time, I'm perfectly -certain, with that Page Calvin and his miserable aëroplane. It makes me -perfectly sick to think of it, especially since Monsieur has told us -everything. By the way, I can't get out of the habit of calling him -"Monsieur," but it's just as well, I suppose, because we're not supposed -to know he's anything else. Of course Louis doesn't realize what all -this means to the old gentleman, but if he only knew that it was fairly -breaking his heart, I do believe he'd be willing to give up the -dangerous scheme and take to something else. I feel sure Monsieur -suspects why he's away at Bridgeton, but he never says a word to -us,--just suffers in silence. - -The Imp sees Monsieur and talks to him very often as he sits on his -favorite bench on the Green. He sits there a great deal, on that bench -under the big elm, and reads his paper and watches us play tennis. -Sometimes we all go over and talk to him, but he never says a word about -what he told us that day on the river,--not, at least, when we're all -together with him. He does speak of it sometimes to the Imp when they're -alone. She says that to-day he told her that the situation in Europe is -very grave. He is certain that Austria is about to declare war on -Serbia, and that if she does, the whole of Europe will be involved. -There will be the most awful conflict the world has ever known, if this -happens. - -The Imp asked him if France was likely to go into it, too, and he said -he did not see how this could be avoided; France would always do what -was right. But here's the worst. He says that if France declares war, he -will have to return immediately, since important political matters will -demand it, and he intends to tell Louis the whole truth and take him -back with him. That piece of news seems perfectly ghastly to us, and -yet I honestly don't see how Monsieur can do anything else. - -I felt to-day, after hearing this from the Imp, that I simply must -understand this European situation for myself, so I got the daily paper -and read up everything I could find about it. But I have to confess that -I was not much wiser after I had read it than I was before. So I went to -the Imp and asked her if she could explain the thing. She said: - -"Why, it's this way. Monsieur has told me all about it. Austria -considers that she's got to make Serbia get down on her knees and beg -pardon, because an Austrian archduke was killed there. So Austria's sent -Serbia a note proposing all sorts of concessions that Serbia will never -stand for in the world. The Serbians answered that note yesterday, and -were willing to make whatever reparation they could about the archduke, -but they won't hear of some of the other things. Austria wants the -'whole hog,' or nothing, so of course she'll take this opportunity to -declare war. Russia has always sort of sympathized with the Serbians, -so if they get into trouble, she's going to give them a hand. And -Monsieur says she's already mobilizing her troops. Germany is in a -compact always to help Austria out, so that's where _she_ comes in. -Monsieur says Germany's been waiting forty years for this opportunity to -get gay and let loose on Europe, so she isn't going to let such a lovely -chance as this pass." (These are the Imp's words, not Monsieur's, I feel -certain!) "And France has a compact to be an ally of Russia, and -England's in that, too, so you can easily see what a beautiful -parrot-and-monkey time it's going to be!" - -The situation is a little clearer to me now, I'll admit, but the whole -thing makes me terribly depressed. I'm glad I don't see much of Louis -now. I simply cannot be with him and act naturally, as if nothing were -out of the ordinary. I cannot face him and think who he really is, and -keep the wonder and pain and bewilderment of it out of my expression. So -perhaps it's a good thing he's away so much. - - -August 1, 1914. Austria declared war on Serbia a few days ago. The Imp, -in a terrible state of excitement, rushed up to my room with the paper -that morning to announce the news. But we've had worse since, and it's -all turning out as Monsieur said it would. We--that is, the Imp, Carol, -and I--were all going into Bridgeton to the circus to-day, but we've -given it up. None of us seemed to have the heart for that kind of a lark -in the face of what is going on and what it means for Louis. He still -unsuspectingly goes off to see Page Calvin every day, and never gives -the European situation a thought, I'm certain. Of course he can't for a -moment imagine that it will have any bearing on _his_ affairs. - -The Imp told us to-day that Miss Yvonne is not a bit well. She's had a -nervous breakdown of some kind. Monsieur thinks it's because of this -awful state of affairs in Europe, and also because they can't seem to -find the least trace of those papers. That has been preying on her mind -for a long time. She thinks it's her fault and her father's that they -didn't bring that letter with them from France. It really wasn't, -because they came away in such a hurry, without knowing much about the -actual circumstances. Nevertheless, she is continually worrying about -it. - -We told Mother she was ill, and Mother and the Imp went over to see her -yesterday. They took her some grape conserve and some raised biscuits -we'd just baked, and they said she seemed awfully grateful for the -attention. The Imp said she seemed more _human_ than she ever had -before, and more communicative, too,--not about any of their secret -affairs, of course, but on general topics. She says her eyes bother her -a lot, so the Imp offered to come over every day and read the paper to -her, and she actually said she'd like it. - -Louis's birthday comes in a few days--on August fourth--and we're -planning a little surprise-party for him. We're going over there early -in the morning,--Dave, Carol, the Imp, and I,--and just casually ask him -to walk across the fields to the old boat-house with us. When we get -there we're going to suggest to him that he take us out in the launch -for a while. And when we get back we're going to produce a big spread -that we'll have previously hidden in the boat-house, and have a regular -feast on the platform. In the middle of it all we're going to present -Louis with a gold watch-fob that we all chipped in for, and Monsieur is -going to give him the most beautiful watch. Monsieur, of course, is to -be a member of this party. The Imp asked him, and he seemed delighted -with the idea. Under ordinary circumstances, I would consider it the -greatest lark, but as things are, it seems as if I could hardly endure -it--to sit there all day and look at Louis and think what he's soon -going to learn from Monsieur. - - -August 4, 1914. The worst has happened, the _very_ worst! It makes me -sick beyond words to read what I last wrote here--about having a -surprise-party, a _picnic_! It was a surprise-party right enough, but -the surprise was very much on our side, after all. We all started over -for Louis's this morning, just as we'd planned. We'd been up at six -o'clock, carrying the "feed" (as the Imp calls it) down to the -boat-house, and everything was quite ready. At the last minute Dave -couldn't go over with us, because Father had some urgent errand he -wanted him to attend to in Bridgeton, but he promised to join us later. - -I confess that we weren't any of us as hilarious over this party as we'd -ordinarily be, for we all feel a lot depressed about this thing. But we -hadn't a suspicion of what was ahead of us. - -We'd hoped to see Monsieur or Louis around outside, but no one was -anywhere in sight. So we knocked at the front door, and Louis came and -opened it. - -In all my life I'll never forget how that poor fellow looked. He was -_stricken_! I can't think of any other word that expresses it so well. -He didn't seem surprised to see us, but instead of inviting us inside, -said: - -"Come out on the Green and sit on our old bench for a few minutes, will -you? I've something to tell you." - -We followed him in dead silence, and we felt that something awful, must -have happened. - -"Have you seen the morning papers?" Louis asked, when we were seated. - -"No," I said. "What's the matter?" - -"_France has declared war!_" he answered. - -Somehow he didn't need to say another word. We knew the whole thing. It -had come at last. There wasn't one of us who could think of a word to -say, not even the Imp, though she's usually quick enough with a reply. -But this time she seemed struck dumb. - -After we'd all sat there for what seemed like six months, Louis said: - -"I've heard the whole story from Mon-- I mean from the marquis. I know -that you know it, too. He told me so. I understand that he didn't intend -to tell me to-day,--that you were going to give me a surprise-party for -my birthday. Thank you, girls, all the same. I--I--" - -He couldn't say any more just then, but sat staring away at nothing. - -"It was the news in the paper that changed it all," he went on at last. -"Germany has invaded French territory and violated the neutrality of -Belgium, so of course the war is inevitable. The marquis is much excited -and has to go back at once to offer his estates and his assistance to -the government. I shall go with him." - -He said all this in the strangest way, in a sort of dull, monotonous -voice, as if he'd just learned it by heart and hadn't the slightest -interest in it. It was the Imp who spoke first. - -"Louis," she said, very quietly, "were you sorry to hear about--about -that other matter?" - -He didn't answer for a minute, and just sat looking off into space -again. Finally he said, in the same monotonous voice: - -"It's _killing_ me!" - -"But, Louis," I found the courage to say, "it's really a wonderful -thing. You ought to be proud of it." - -"Proud of _what_?" he demanded fiercely. - -"Of--of being the descendant of a French king," I said. - -"I've been proud as Lucifer all my life to be an _American_," he -answered. "What are French kings to me? And I _am_ an American, too! Not -a thing he's said can make me anything else. I don't care if my ancestor -did come here from France. Every American's ancestors came from -somewhere else, if you go back far enough. That doesn't alter things." - -"Yes, that is perfectly true. You are just as much an American as ever," -I admitted, thinking of that side of it for the first time. "But if -that's so, I can't see what you're so down-hearted about." - -"What do you think it means to me to give up all my plans and ambitions -in life and go over to France and become a French nobleman by adoption; -to devote myself to every interest but the one I'm wrapped up in and -fitted for during all the rest of my days?" - -"But, Louis," began the Imp, "if you feel so--strongly about it, why do -you have to do it? Couldn't you persuade Monsieur to let you do -something else? He's simply devoted to you. Surely he'd be willing to -meet _your_ wishes, somehow." - -"You don't understand," answered Louis. "Can't you see that I'm under an -absolute _obligation_ to meet his wishes? I'd be an ungrateful brute, if -I did anything else. You must realize what his ancestor did for mine. I -wouldn't be in existence to-day, if it hadn't been for what the original -marquis did to help the--the dauphin to escape. Why, I'm also under a -tremendous obligation to the Mettots for the same reason. And then, -there's something else you don't know about that makes it even worse. I -haven't a cent in this world, nor ever have had, that hasn't been -supplied by Mon--by the marquis." - -"You had this farm, didn't you?" I interrupted, for Louis has always -told us that this farm was his, or at least would be his when he came of -age. That was all the Mettots had ever told him about his affairs. - -"Oh, yes; so I thought!" he answered bitterly. "But of course I didn't -know that my father had died deeply in debt, leaving this place -mortgaged to the hilt. I would never have owned a penny of it if the -marquis hadn't stepped in and redeemed it, paying every cent of the -expenses of my bringing up. Why, the very pocket-money I've had was his, -and I always supposed it was the proceeds from the sales of our -garden-truck. Oh, I'm tied hand and foot by the deepest of obligations! -There's nothing else to do. I'm helpless." - -We all were silent for a long time after that. I, for my part, couldn't -think of one thing more to say. Louis was resigned and quiet and utterly -hopeless. And to try and comfort him and put the best side on things was -a perfect farce. None of us attempted it. - -"When do you go?" I asked, presently. - -"In a week or so," he said. "As soon as things can be arranged. -Monsieur--I mean the marquis--has asked me to beg that we be excused -from the surprise-party, in view of what has happened. I don't know what -he means by that, but probably you do. He also wished me to explain to -you that you are at liberty to tell any one you wish that I am to go to -France to become his adopted son, but that the other secret you will -always kindly keep to yourselves." - -"Louis," said the Imp, "we were going to have a surprise-party for you -at the boat-house to-day because it was your birthday, but I guess the -surprise is on us. Anyhow, here's a little trifle we wanted to give you, -but we hadn't intended to present it in _this_ way. You'll understand, -though." - -She handed Louis the watch-fob, and he took it in a sort of dazed, -unseeing way. But he thanked us a lot, adding that Monsieur had given -him the watch after they had had their interview. - -"I'll never forget you," he said, "and you needn't think because I have -to go to France that I'm not going to see you again, either. I'm coming -back here as often as I can manage it, and I'll be the same old Louis. -You'll see!" This thought seemed to give him the only comfort he had. - -"But what about the Meadows?" asked Carol. - -"Oh, they're going, too, of course," Louis answered. "Their mission here -is over now. The marquis is going to close the house, but he's granted, -as a concession to me, that he'll keep it, and not sell it or even rent -it to any one else. There I can come back to it once in a while, and -live in the old way for a time. He's an awfully good sort, I will say, -and is only doing this because he sees I'm all broken up over things. -Well, I must go back to help him send off despatches and pack. It's a -hateful job. Come over and see Aunt Yvonne. She's upset over this, and -instead of feeling joyful, as I should suppose she would, is quite -miserable over something. I can't understand what it is, though." - -Louis went off directly across the Green. It was heartbreaking to watch -him. - -But the Imp says that one thing is certain. They evidently haven't told -Louis about those papers that can't be found. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE IMP MAKES A LAST DISCOVERY - - -A burning August sun shone down pitilessly on the parched brown grass -and dusty roads about Paradise Green. The great elms stood absolutely -motionless in the stifling air. Into this merciless atmosphere, quite -early in the morning of August 12, emerged three girls, bound for the -home of Louis Durant. - -"Isn't it awful!" moaned Carol, perspiration streaming down her face, as -they plodded on in the blazing sun. "This terrific heat has lasted a -week, and there isn't a sign of let-up yet!" - -"And to think that poor Miss Yvonne has to tear up the house and pack at -such a time as this!" echoed Sue. "She isn't a bit well, either. I'm -awfully glad she's letting us help her. I never supposed she would, but -she must be kind of desperate, with their servant gone. She's fine to -have let her go, though, for the servant said her son had to join the -army, and she might never see him again, if she didn't leave for France -at once." - -"Yes, it is great of Miss Yvonne to struggle through this alone," put in -the Imp, "but I still don't see why Monsieur didn't want her to get help -from the village, except that he didn't wish strangers to pry around and -ask questions at this time, I suppose." - -They reached the gate and turned into the yard. Monsieur was sitting -under a tree, reading a paper and striving to imagine that he was as -cool as possible in its shade. Louis was in the house, helping Miss -Yvonne. - -"Come in, girls!" he called through an open window. "We are precious -glad to see you. Can you help us pack these books?" - -The tone strove to be his usual, careless, care-free one, but it was -patently anything but that. Not one of the girls but realized the effort -he was making. - -They entered the room, donned dust-caps and aprons that they had -brought with them, and entered on the work with assumed zest. They were -in Miss Yvonne's room on the ground floor, and the dismantling process -had begun to be complete. The bed was taken down, the bookshelves -emptied and their contents piled on the floor, and the furniture was -shrouded in sacking. Little remained to be packed, except the contents -of a big closet built into one wall. Miss Yvonne was elsewhere, so the -young folks had the room to themselves. - -"Isn't the weather awful!" groaned Carol, for the second time in ten -minutes. - -"The news in the paper is worse!" commented Louis. - -"Oh, what is it?" chorused the girls. "None of us have had time to read -the paper to-day." - -"The Germans are demolishing Belgium. They've entered France at several -points and are bound straight for Calais and Paris. It seems as if -nothing could stop them. They're walking away with everything. They're -hideously prepared for this, and not one of the other nations is. It -makes my blood boil! Oh, if I could only _do_ something, instead of just -going over to France and watching the show! But I suppose Monsieur -wouldn't hear of it." - -"Louis, you mustn't get into this fight. You're too young!" exclaimed -Sue. - -"Yes, that's what he says," muttered Louis, viciously scrubbing a book -with a dust-cloth. "But I'm seventeen; and I don't agree with him. I've -lost all interest in life, anyhow. Why shouldn't I go in and smash a few -of the enemy's heads?" - -The three girls shuddered, but did not answer. - -"There!" cried the Imp, glad to change the subject. "I've finished these -books. Now what else is there to do here, Louis?" - -"Aunt Yvonne said that closet was to be emptied and all the things piled -on the floor." - -The Imp straightway dived into the closet, calling back: - -"I'll hand the things out, and you all put them where they are to go." - -She began hurling out packages and bundles in an endless stream, for it -seemed as if the closet had been used for years as a storage-place, and -that the contents had seldom been moved. - -"My, but there are a lot of them!" coughed the Imp, choking with dust. - -"Yes, Aunt Yvonne said she was rather ashamed of this closet," said -Louis. "She's used it as a catch-all for years, and most of these -bundles are things she never has any use for, yet won't under any -circumstances give or throw away." - -"We have the same kind of a closet at home," remarked Carol. "Mother -says she doesn't know how she'd get along without it,--I mean the kind -of place where you stow things away that you hardly expect to touch -again." - -"So have we," echoed Sue. - -They worked for a time in silence. At last the Imp, dusty and cobwebby, -tossed out a final bundle, with the remark: - -"That's the last, I guess, except some scraps of wrapping-paper and so -on. I'll just look among these to see that there's nothing more." - -They heard her grubbing about for a moment or two, and then came a -stifled exclamation. - -"What's the matter?" cried every one simultaneously. - -"Somebody bring a candle!" commanded the Imp. "There's something queer -here!" - -Louis rushed away to get one, and was back in a jiffy. - -"Here it is," he said, handing it in to the Imp. While she lit it the -three crowded into the doorway to see whatever was to be revealed. - -"It's this hole," explained the Imp, holding the candle to a space about -six inches in diameter, near the base of the wall. "It was back of a -pile of bundles, and I guess it must have been made by mice or rats, for -the gnawed bits are lying all around. It must be rather recent, too, for -it looks so. My hand slipped into it a moment ago, and the boarding came -loose as I was trying to get it out. I think it must be because it was -so old and rotten. Anyhow, it pulled away, and I just caught a glimpse -of something behind it that seemed strange." - -Louis crowded into the closet at this, and gave the board a wrench. It -fell away, disclosing a sight that made the four stare with surprise. - -"Why, it's a _fireplace_!" cried the Imp, poking her head in as Louis -pulled away another board. "A great, immense fireplace, even bigger than -the one in your living-room." - -It was nothing less. Each girl took a turn at poking her head into the -open space, and all were amazed at the breadth of the great -chimney-place, which still contained the andirons and curious old hooks -and cranes of bygone years. - -"I must tell the others!" cried Louis. "I'm sure they'll be interested -in this." And he rushed away to inform them. - -While he was gone, the Imp suddenly emerged from the closet in great -excitement. - -"I have an idea," she whispered to the others. "I may be crazy, but I -believe we're on the track of the hiding-place of those papers. Don't -you remember what Monsieur said about a _chimney_?" - -The two girls looked startled. Before they could discuss the matter, -however, back came Louis with Monsieur and the Meadows couple behind -him. - -"It's perfectly clear to me," Louis was explaining to them, "that at -some time or other, pretty far back, some one had the great 'long -kitchen' in this house made into two rooms, and the original walls and -fireplace were entirely boarded-up and concealed. I always thought it -rather strange that this house, which is exactly the same build and -design as the old Caswell place, for instance, or a dozen others around -here, should be entirely without that immense 'long kitchen,' as they -call it, that all the rest have. You know it's the original kitchen of -the former New Englanders. They used it as kitchen and dining-room and -everything. The fireplace is the biggest in the house, for often they -would have an ox drag into the room a great log that would entirely fill -the chimney-place. Somebody has evidently had that room made into two -smaller ones, with no fireplace at all. Queer thing to do. I wonder why -they did it?" - -In his interest in this explanation, Louis had not appeared to notice -the evident excitement of Monsieur and old John Meadows and Miss Yvonne. -Now he was thunderstruck when Monsieur asked him if it was possible to -pull down the boarding around the fireplace. - -"Why, of course," exclaimed Louis, much astonished. "I have some tools I -could use, and it wouldn't take much strength, but what's the use of -demolishing it now? It will make an awful mess, and there probably isn't -much beyond what we've already seen, anyhow. It would be a good thing, -perhaps, to have this fine old room restored while we're away, but I -don't see any use in beginning it now." - -The marquis, trembling so that he was forced to support himself by -leaning on a packing-case, spoke with more decision than his hearers had -ever heard before: - -"Tear down the woodwork, Louis. It is my wish. There may be an -excellent reason." Without further protest, Louis went to work. - -The noontide sun grew hotter and hotter, but the company in that -curiously littered room did not notice it. Not a word was spoken as they -watched Louis, but a breathless suspense gripped them all,--all, that -is, except Louis. To him it was only a useless whim of Monsieur's that -he was obeying, and he was secretly rather irritated. He found, during -the course of his labor, that the chimney-place ran clear behind the -walls into the next room, which was that of old Mr. Meadows, but even -this did not daunt the marquis. - -"Tear down the wall between, if you can. Knock it down, break it down, -somehow. I do not care, so long as we free the chimney!" - -Before Louis was finished, the place looked as if it had suddenly been -subjected to an air-raid and earthquake combined, but no one cared. By -that time even Louis had begun to feel a vague suspicion that they were -on the track of something. When the fireplace at last stood free amid -the surrounding débris, he stepped aside, remarking: - -"There! That's about all I can do, I think. That was a clever piece of -work--the way this other room has been entirely concealed. Not one of us -has ever suspected that it was here, though I suppose if we'd been any -sort of architects, we might have done so." - -"Oh, here are the old Dutch ovens!" cried the Imp, rushing forward to -examine the curious little iron doorways in the sides of the -chimney-place. "I saw the same thing in the Caswell house. They used to -bake bread in those, when the chimney became good and hot." - -She pulled open one of them and thrust in her hand. - -"Gracious! There's something in here!" she almost shouted, hauling out a -small iron box covered with the rust and dust and cobwebs of what must -have been a century in hiding. - -"Give it to me! Give it to me!" cried old John Meadows, striding -forward and fairly snatching it from her grasp. "It is the one, the very -one my grandfather spoke of, and in the _chimney_, just as I have always -thought he said." - -With tears of excitement in his eyes, he took the box and placed it in -the hands of the marquis. Miss Yvonne, sobbing quietly in the intensity -of her relief, sat down on a small packing-case and hid her face in her -hands. The three girls, understanding something of this strange -discovery, stood by, breathless in their excitement and interest. Only -Louis, to whom the whole proceeding was a dark mystery, stared at them -all, open-mouthed and questioning. - -Monsieur took the box and placed it in Louis's hands. - -"Can you open it for us?" he asked. "I suppose we might find the key, if -we hunted long enough, but I cannot wait for that. Open it without a -key, if that is possible." - -"I suppose I could get it open with an ax," remarked Louis, examining -the box carefully, "or even with a hammer and chisel, if you're not -afraid that the contents may be hurt." - -"It will not harm it, I am sure," replied Monsieur, and Louis brought -the necessary tools. - -It took a long while to break the lock, for the workmanship was stout -and strong. But at last this was accomplished, and Louis handed the box -to Monsieur for further investigation. They all pressed around him -eagerly, as he opened the lid. It contained nothing but a paper, folded, -tied, and sealed--a paper so faded, stained, and tender that they -scarcely dared touch it, lest it fall apart. Monsieur took it out with -extreme care, broke the seal, and handed the unread document to Louis. - -"Read it," he said. "It concerns you, and you alone. It is your right to -have the first reading of it. It is a sacred message, transmitted to you -through the years by your great-grandfather, the lost dauphin." - -"Shall I read it aloud?" inquired Louis, in a voice of hushed awe. - -"If it pleases you to do so," replied the marquis. - -[Illustration: Louis began to read aloud, stopping often to decipher a -word] - -Louis cleared his throat nervously, and began to read aloud in French, -stopping often to decipher a word that was blurred by the stains of -time. As the two girls, Carol and Sue, could understand little or -nothing of what he read, they could only watch curiously the expression -on the faces of the other auditors. But before Louis had read far, that -expression became singularly different on each of those five eager -countenances. Miss Yvonne leaned forward from her packing-box, her eyes -startled and unbelieving. Old John Meadows ruffled his white hair -distractedly with his hands and muttered, "What? what?" in English, and -other expressions in French. The Imp's big blue eyes fairly danced with -amazement, and pleased amazement, at that. Monsieur stood listening, his -hands clenched, his head thrust forward, his eagle-like gaze intent, -unbelieving, stricken. Only Louis read on stolidly, as if the content -had not yet registered itself on his mind. - -Suddenly he threw down the paper and shouted, "Hurrah! hurrah!" and -then more solemnly, "Oh, thank God! I'm so glad." - -"What is it? what is it?" cried Sue and Carol, simultaneously. "_Please_ -tell us! We haven't understood a word of it." - -"You poor things!" he exclaimed gaily. "Listen! I'll translate it for -you. It's very short." And he went on to translate from the ancient -paper as follows: - - - I who write this am the Dauphin of France, who should have been - Louis XVII. I escaped from the Temple Tower in my tenth year by - means which I shall not attempt to explain here. All that is known - to others who could make it public to the world if I so wished. I - do not, however, wish it. My only desire is to remain forever - hidden. Should there, however, arise at any future time a cause or - reason for making descendants of mine aware of the truth of their - real ancestry, I wish to make this statement. _I have no - descendants._ The boy whom Jean Mettot supposes to be my son is no - flesh-and-blood heir of mine. The boy is the son of my wife by her - former husband. He was a young child, less than two years old, when - I married her, and so fond did I become of him that I felt no - difference and wished to feel no more difference than if he were - truly my own. But no Bourbon blood runs in his veins, praise God, - and heirs of his may never inherit the throne of France. I am ill - and weak, when writing this, and I feel that death is not far away. - Only Jean Mettot knows the hiding-place I have designed for this - document. I pray God there may never be need to disclose it. - - LOUIS CHARLES. - - -"But--but," stammered Sue, when Louis had finished, "what does this -mean?" - -"It means," cried Louis, "that I haven't a drop of Bourbon blood in me! -It means that I'm a plain, _American_ boy, after all!" - -He threw his cap into the air exultantly and shouted another hurrah. - - -Strangely enough, it was Sue who first gave a thought to the marquis. -Glancing suddenly toward him, she exclaimed in a low voice: - -"O Monsieur!" - -He was still standing in the same tense attitude, his expression dazed -and unbelieving. Not one of them but expected that this news, so happy -to Louis, so tragic to him, might cause an attack, possibly a fatal one, -of his physical ailment. But the marquis was made of sterner stuff than -they knew. With a sudden squaring of his shoulders, he walked over to -the window and stood staring out, his back toward them all, his hands -clenched behind him. - -So long did he remain thus, that the tense silence became almost -unbearable. It was Louis at last, with his head up and the kindest -expression the girls had ever seen in his eyes, who walked over to -Monsieur and laid a hand on his shoulder. - -"Will you forgive me, sir," he said very quietly, "for my beastly -expressions of joy? I ought to have realized what a blow this news would -be to you,--whatever it may mean to me." - -The marquis turned and looked deep into his eyes. - -"My boy," he spoke in a husky voice, "you are worthy to be the lineal -descendant of a king, even if fate has willed that you are not." - -He could say no more at that moment, and Louis went on: - -"I want you to know I feel, sir, that my obligation to you remains -precisely the same, even though conditions are changed. I owe you -everything I have. You undoubtedly will no longer contemplate taking me -for your adopted son. There isn't the slightest reason for it now. But I -want to give you and the country you love the very best that is in me. I -am an American of the Americans, and I'm prouder of it than ever. But I -want to 'do my bit' for France and for you. Will you allow me, sir, to -go with you to France and join the French Flying Corps? It is the only -way that I can repay you." - -The marquis was still gazing straight into the boy's eyes. Now he laid -both hands on his shoulders. - -"You shall have your wish, my boy," he said, still huskily. "I now see -that I should never have striven to restrain you. But, king or no king, -an adopted son of mine you shall be, if you yourself will consent to it. -I love you for yourself. What matters any other reason? But, before God, -I promise you that in no way will I put the slightest obstacle in the -path you have chosen for yourself. France will yet be as proud of you -as I am. Louis Charles, will you be my son?" - -"I never knew any parents," answered Louis, in a shaky, unsteady voice, -"and I've--I've missed them horribly. Will you be--my father?" - -When the girls looked around, they found that old Mr. Meadows and his -daughter had vanished from the room. At Sue's beckoning finger, the -three girls tiptoed out after them. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE END OF THE JOURNAL - - -September 25, 1914. It's so long since I've written in this journal that -I'm quite discouraged about it. Not a single entry have I made since -that wonderful day over at Louis's when they found the document. Well, -there hasn't been much to write about, and we've all felt lonely and -blue and _apprehensive_ (that's the only word I can think of to express -it) ever since Louis sailed for France. - -They did not get away quite as soon as they had expected. Changed -conditions and sailing dates delayed them a week or more longer than the -original plan. I think it was at least the twentieth of August before -they left for New York and their steamer. - -Oh, it is such a desolate place now, across the Green, since they went -away,--all shut up and dark and lonely! But Monsieur has left the key -with us, and asked us to go through it once in a while to see that -everything was all right. In the spring he intends to have an architect -come and restore the "long kitchen" to exactly its former appearance, -and to put all the rest of the house in good shape. He says that, since -Louis wishes it so much, he shall come back here whenever there is an -opportunity, that is, whenever his duties will permit, and that he can -live here as long as he likes. That is glorious news. We are all so -happy about it, and Louis was just wild with joy. - -But _will_ he come back? That is the awful question. Aviation is -dangerous enough, even here in a peaceful country. What earthly chance -of life has one over there in the midst of this horrible war? It makes -me shudder every time I think of it, and I don't dare think of it much. -I have awful nightmares about it every night. - -The Imp has taken to reading up everything she can find on the subject, -and she insists on telling us hair-raising tales about the dangers and -accidents that happen to military aviators. I asked her once if it -didn't simply make her sick to think of such things in connection with -Louis, but she only said: - -"Oh, no! Louis's not going to have things like that happen to _him_. -He's different!" I only wish I had her faith. - -Louis's departure with the marquis was a nine-days' wonder here, of -course. Everybody talked about it incessantly for a while, speculating -at the greatest length on why in the world a French nobleman should do -such an eccentric thing. But naturally, no one except we three girls -ever guessed the truth, or ever will. For it was the marquis's wish -that, even as things turned out, the truth about the dauphin should -never be made public. - -We have all gone back to school, and are plodding along in the same -prosaic way. The only thing we're doing that really interests us is to -knit an outfit for Louis--a sweater, a helmet, some wristlets, and -socks. He said before he left that he'd probably need them, and we -promised to make them as quickly as possible. - - -September 28. We had a letter from Louis to-day,--the first since he -left. Of course it caused the wildest excitement. He said they had a -safe voyage across, and he wasn't seasick a minute, though the marquis -and old Mr. Meadows were very ill. Louis said that they went straight to -Paris, and there the marquis used his influence and had him enlisted in -the French Air Service. In a few days Louis was notified to report for -duty at the Hôtel des Invalides. Here he went through his physical -examination, passed it, and then was sent to Dijon to get his outfit, -which is provided by the government. After going through all that, he -was sent to Pau (we've looked up these places in the Atlas, and know -exactly where they are!) to become a member of the flying-school. - -Louis had been there only a week when he wrote this letter, but he says -that, owing to the hard study he put in on Page Calvin's machine, he's -almost perfect in the mechanical parts,--the engine and steering,--and -instead of having to spend several weeks at that, he can soon begin the -actual flying. Of course I don't understand all his technical talk, but -one thing is easy to see--he's completely and absolutely _happy_. He -says he'll write again when he's actually "been up," but that he has -hardly a moment to himself during the day, and at night he's so tired -that he almost falls asleep on the way to bed. The French course must be -very strict and exacting. - - -November 22, 1914. I didn't suppose it would be so long before I'd write -here again, but there's generally nothing much to write. Paradise Green -has returned to its old, sleepy nonentity of a place since Louis went -away. Only one thing has stirred the quiet surface of our family. Dave -has been extremely morose and uneasy ever since Louis's departure, and -yesterday he launched a thunderbolt in our midst by asking Father if he -could go off to "the front" and enlist in the French army. Father was -very quiet about it, but he refused absolutely. Then Dave broke down and -blubbered like a baby. He said he wanted to do something to help in -this beastly mess, and that he thought America was "rotten" not to get -into it, too. But Father said: - -"If America ever does get into it, Dave, you'll go with my full -permission,--but not till then!" So Dave had to be content with that. - -We heard from Louis to-day,--the most _wonderful_ letter! Two weeks ago -he finished his course in aviation and was ordered to duty at the front. -So off he went (he wasn't allowed to tell us where the "front" was) and -has been there ever since, scouting over the enemy's lines in a biplane -with the _chef pilote_, to familiarize himself with conditions. He will -soon be actively engaged with the enemy. It makes me sick and cold to -think of it. Will we ever see Louis alive again, walking about Paradise -Green in the old way? I have simply made up my mind that it is not -possible,--that if it ever happens, it will be nothing short of a -_miracle_. - -On looking back in this journal, I find that I have kept it exactly one -year. I have fulfilled my promise to Miss Cullingford, and I believe, -if she could only read it, she'd find it a very interesting "supplement -to history." But of course she never will read it. That would be -breaking my promise to the marquis. I do not think I will write in it -any more. The year is over, and Louis has gone--and may never come back -any more. - - -April 10, 1917. To-day, in an old drawer of my desk, locked away and -almost completely forgotten by me, I found this journal that I kept -three long years ago. How long, how _very_ long they seem now! I was -sixteen then, and still in high school. I am nineteen--nearly -twenty--now, and have been a year in college. At present I am home for -the Easter vacation, back in little Paradise Green, and in rummaging -through my desk I found this journal. The idea has come to me to add one -more entry, because it will make the story complete. - -When I last wrote here, I was positively certain that Louis would die, -that he would be killed in some terrible battle or have some accident -to his aëroplane. Nothing of the sort has occurred, marvelous as it may -seem. Yes, the miracle has happened, and Louis, our same old Louis, is -back in his home on Paradise Green! What is more, the Meadows, or -Mettots, as I now call them, are back here with him, just as in the old -days. It's too wonderful for words! - -But the marquis is not here. He never will be here any more, for he died -a year ago, leaving his title and what little remains of his estate to -Louis. The greater part of it has been turned over to the French -Government. - -But Louis! Oh, that has been the wonderful part of the story! He has -been known for two years as one of the most daring and successful -members of the French Aviation Corps, with a record of captured enemy -machines and successful engagements to be proud of. He has been -decorated by the French Government and honored in a dozen ways, and has -never been wounded or injured till just lately. - -In an engagement at Eaucourt l'Abbaye last October, toward the finish of -the great Somme battle, he was wounded in the side, but managed to land -his machine safely. The wound was not serious in itself, but his old -enemy, blood-poisoning, set in, and for a while it was nip-and-tuck -whether he could recover. But Louis says his constitution is "sound -American," and after a long siege he was pronounced out of danger and -recovered. He has been compelled by his commanding officer, however, to -take a long leave of absence, to recover complete health before he -returns to the front. - -So he came back to Paradise Green, to take up life, as he says, where he -left it. During this Easter vacation we four have been rollicking -around, just as we used to when we were children and hadn't a care on -our minds. Carol is as grown-up as I am, and is attending college with -me. The Imp is a tall, lanky creature now, nearly through high school, -and at times can be quite as exasperating as ever. They say she's cut -out for a brilliant future, but just at present her whole mind is -concentrated on becoming a Red Cross nurse, so that she can go off to -"the front" and get in the thick of it. Mother and Father won't stand -for it, of course, but trust the Imp to get her way--somehow. - -And that brings me to another thing. America has at last entered the -war. We can scarcely believe it yet. Louis is jubilant, and Dave -promptly claimed the promise that Father made him three years ago. -Father has consented, as he said he would, but is feeling pretty grave -about it. And the look in Mother's eyes is enough to keep Dave from -effervescing too openly. I dare not think very far into the future, but -for the immediate present we all are trying to be happy. - -I had almost decided to destroy this journal, but something Louis told -us has made me change my mind. He said that before Monsieur (I cannot -get out of the habit of calling him that!) passed away, he told Louis -that he had changed his mind about keeping secret any longer the story -of Louis's descent. He said that he believed the dauphin would have been -filled with pride at the wonderful attainments and service to France of -the descendant of his own adopted son, and would glory in the world's -knowledge of his connection with him. So Louis said that, although he -wasn't ever going to say anything about it himself, he didn't specially -care if the rest of us did. The matter seemed of little importance to -him, anyhow. He said that probably no one would believe it, anyway, as -there were too many stories already concerning the escape and claims of -the "lost dauphin." - -Probably they won't, and I wouldn't blame them, for it does seem -well-nigh incredible. However that may be, I've changed my mind about -this journal. I'm going to show it to Miss Cullingford. She and I have -always been great friends, even after I left high school, and I want her -to read for herself the whole history of this wonderful thing that -happened on little, out-of-the-way Paradise Green. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN*** - - -******* This file should be named 52946-8.txt or 52946-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/2/9/4/52946 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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M. Relyea</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world 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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Three Sides of Paradise Green</p> -<p>Author: Augusta Huiell Seaman</p> -<p>Release Date: August 31, 2016 [eBook #52946]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN***</p> -<p> </p> -<h3>E-text prepared by<br /> - Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, Martin Pettit,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="I'll tell you after we've had our swim, said the Imp" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"I'll tell you after we've had our swim," said the Imp</p> - -<hr /> - -<h1>THREE SIDES<br />OF<br />PARADISE GREEN</h1> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold">AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN</p> - -<p class="bold">Author of "<span class="smcap">The Girl Next Door</span>,"<br /> -"<span class="smcap">The Sapphire Signet</span>," <span class="smaller">ETC.</span></p> - -<p class="bold space-above">ILLUSTRATED BY<br />C. M. RELYEA</p> - -<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="Decoration" /></div> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK<br />THE CENTURY CO.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center">Copyright, 1918, by<br /><span class="smcap">The Century Co.</span><br /> -——<br /><i>Published, October, 1918</i></p> - -<p class="center space-above">Printed in U. S. A.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center">TO<br />THE REAL HELEN ROBERTA</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Journal Is Begun</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">New Developments</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Imp Has the Best of It</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Mysterious "Monsieur"</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Two Accidents and a Mystery</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">In Monsieur's Room</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Imp Makes a Discovery</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Portrait of Mystery</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Carol Makes a Discovery of Her Own</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Jottings from the Journal</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Louis Springs a Surprise—and the Consequences Thereof</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">What the Imp Knew</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Suspicions</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">A Solemn Conclave—and What Came of It</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Monsieur's Story</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">August Fourth, 1914</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Imp Makes a Last Discovery</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVIII</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The End of the Journal</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THREE SIDES OF<br /> -PARADISE GREEN</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THREE SIDES OF<br /> -PARADISE GREEN</p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">THE JOURNAL IS BEGUN</span></h2> - -<p>November 22, 1913. It's all on account of Miss Cullingford that I'm -beginning this journal. I never would have thought of such a thing by -myself. Neither would Carol. Now we've both begun one, and it's just -because Miss Cullingford is so sweet and lovely, and all the girls at -Bridgeton High School want to please her,—Carol and myself most of all.</p> - -<p>Miss Cullingford is our English literature instructor, and we all simply -adore her. She's the sweetest thing! She's little and slight, with -fluffy light hair and dark blue eyes. And she's <i>such</i> an inspiration -about literature and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> English composition! She makes it seem actually -like a romance. They always seemed terribly dull, those subjects, when -we had Miss Trotter last year. But now we're just crazy about them.</p> - -<p>Well, one of the things she said yesterday in composition class was that -every one of us ought to keep a journal, not the kind of diary affair -that some people keep,—all about the weather and the number of jars of -jam they put up, and how Cousin Hannah called that day!—but an -occasional record, only written when we felt like it, of the things that -happen around us and our ideas about people and so on. She said that the -greatest minds of the ages had generally kept such a record, and that -they had proved a big addition to history and literature, too.</p> - -<p>Then, right there, I raised my hand and said that it was fine, of -course, for the great minds to do it, especially when they lived in -stirring times and had lots interesting to write about; but what was the -use of just plain, ordinary people, as young as we were, doing it, -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>especially when there wasn't anything going on that was interesting at -all,—just the same old thing every day?</p> - -<p>Miss Cullingford answered that I mustn't make the mistake of thinking -<i>any</i> life uninteresting, no matter how quiet and ordinary it might -appear to be. You can always find something interesting to write about -any kind of life, if you try hard enough. And that was where the -advantage of a journal came in,—it made you look around hard to find -what was worth while, and you always found it. Also, it was a great help -to your style in writing. Then she asked if any of the girls would -promise to keep a journal faithfully for a year. Carol and I promised.</p> - -<p>Well, now I'm going to see. No life could possibly be more -<i>un</i>interesting than mine, here in quiet little Stafford where nothing -ever happens or ever <i>has</i> happened that I know of, and in a family -that's awfully nice, of course, but as plain and uninteresting and -ordinary as all the rest of the families around here.</p> - -<p>Carol doesn't feel the same as I do about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> She's more hopeful. -That's because she has lots of imagination and is always romancing about -people and thinking there's some story back of their lives that we don't -know. I suppose her journal will be awfully different from mine. Well, -anyhow, we've both begun, and now we'll see what happens.</p> - -<p>November 23. I had to stop short last night because I suddenly got so -sleepy. Now I'll go on. I do wish we lived in Bridgeton, for things -surely happen once in a while in a big town like that. Or even down in -our own village of Stafford itself, and not way out, a mile off on the -main road, on this silly little triangle called Paradise Green. Even the -trolley doesn't run up this way; that would be <i>something</i>! But there's -nothing in the world around here except this little triangle of a green, -formed by the turning off of Cranberry Bog Road from the River Road, and -the short road that connects the two at the head of the green. I'm sure -I don't know why it was ever called Paradise Green. I suppose if I were -Carol, I'd find out. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> probably will. She's always hunting up -historical facts.</p> - -<p>Even the automobiles don't come along this way. Nearly all of them keep -to the State road over on the other side of the river. There are just -three houses around the Green, one on each side, and not another -dwelling anywhere within half a mile. So we haven't many near neighbors.</p> - -<p>Our house stands at the head of the Green. It's a big square house, with -a cupola on top and a veranda around all four sides. Father's father -built it when that style of house was just beginning to be popular, and -everybody thought it very grand. I hate it myself, because it seems so -old-fashioned and dreary compared to those pretty new bungalows they are -putting up in Bridgeton. Mother and Father and the Imp and I live here. -Father does intensive farming,—he is just crazy about it,—and every -one comes to Birdsey's for ideas on the subject.</p> - -<p>Dave is my brother. He's seventeen and a half, and a very quiet and -thoughtful sort of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> person. All the same, he can do his own share of -teasing in a quiet way. He left high school this year because his health -wasn't very good, and is helping Father with the farming. Next year he's -going to study scientific agriculture at one of the big colleges. I'm -secretly awfully fond of Dave, but just at present he pretends to look -down on girls as entirely unnecessary articles in the general scheme of -things, so Carol and I are letting him severely alone.</p> - -<p>The Imp is my sister. She's twelve years old and a perfect nuisance. -Carol and I have named her "The Imp" because she acts just like one. She -likes to trot around with us all the time, but we won't have it. It's -impossible to have a child of twelve continually hanging on to girls of -fifteen or sixteen, and Carol and I simply won't stand it. The Imp is -fearfully miffed about this and spends her time thinking up revengeful -things to do to us. She makes our lives perfectly miserable sometimes, -though we wouldn't let her know it for the world.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>Carol's house is on the River Road side of the Green. She lives there -with just her mother and her Aunt Agatha. The Fayres are distant -relatives of ours, so Carol and I are really cousins. Their house is one -of the old style, a real New England farmhouse, and they have a glorious -big barn in the back, where we've all played ever since we were babies. -One little room off the haymow Carol and I have fixed up as our private -den and study. We keep our books and our fancywork there, and her mother -gave us an old desk where we do our school work. We always keep the den -locked with a padlock, because the Imp would like to get in and rummage -around. She's as mad as a hatter because she can't. She threatens to -climb in the window sometime, but I don't believe she could possibly. If -she did, she'd probably break her neck.</p> - -<p>Carol is fifteen years old, and I'm sixteen. Her name is really -Caroline, but she hates it and wants to be called "Carol" instead. She -says it's so much prettier. And mine is even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> worse—<i>Susan</i>! Could -anything be more dreadful? I've insisted on being called "Susette," -which at least is a prettier French form. But no one except Carol will -ever call me that. Every one calls me either "Susie" or "Sue," that is, -all but the Imp. She, of course, knowing how much I detest it, will say -nothing but "So-o-san" on all occasions. Carol she addresses by the -horrible nickname of "Cad." Why are some children so irritating, I -wonder? The infuriating part is that the Imp's own name is really -lovely—Helen Roberta—and she knows it, little torment that she is!</p> - -<p>Well, I haven't yet told about the third house on the Green, so now I -come to that. It's the one on the Cranberry Bog Road side. It's by far -the most interesting of the three,—a long, rambling colonial farmhouse, -built, they say, way back in seventeen hundred and something. It has the -most fascinating additions in all directions from the main part, and -queer little back stairways and old slave quarters, and I don't know -what else. But the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> people who live in it are the interesting part.</p> - -<p>To begin with, there's Louis. His whole name is Louis Charles Durant. He -is seventeen and goes to high school in Bridgeton with us. We have known -him all our lives, and he's the nicest, jolliest boy we know. But the -people he lives with I've never understood at all, and if there were any -romance or mystery about any one around here, it would be about them.</p> - -<p>Come to think of it, they <i>are</i> mysterious. Carol has always said so, -but I never thought much about it. And that only goes to show that Miss -Cullingford is right. Keeping a journal does certainly make you go about -with your eyes open wider and gives you an interest in things you never -thought worth while before. I never thought or cared a bit about Louis's -folks before, and now I see they're full of possibilities.</p> - -<p>November 24. Fell asleep again last night while I was writing. I guess -it's because there's nothing very exciting to write about. However, I'll -go on from where I left off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> about Louis's folks. First, there's the old -man. Louis's father and mother have been dead a number of years. I never -remember seeing either of them. So he lives with this old man, who, they -say, is his guardian. His name is John Meadows, or at least that is what -he is always called around here. But Louis says that he is French, and -that his real name is Jean Mettot. He is very old; he must be eighty at -least. And he is very feeble now, too. He sits all day long in a great -armchair by the parlor window. He never reads anything but the papers -and some great, heavy volumes of French history, but he spends a great -deal of time thinking and dreaming, while he looks way off over the -meadows toward the river.</p> - -<p>Then there's his daughter, Miss Meadows. She's about forty or fifty -years old, I should think. Louis says her name is Yvonne. Certainly, -that's a fascinating French name. She's very dark and handsome and quick -in her ways, but she's very, very quiet and silent. I never had a <i>real</i> -conversation with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> her in my life, though I've talked to her a great -many times. I do all the talking, and she nods or smiles or says "Yes" -and "No," and that is absolutely all. I feel as if I'd never really -<i>know</i> her, if I talked to her a hundred years. They have one servant, a -big French peasant from Normandy, who cooks the meals and takes care of -the garden and house.</p> - -<p>All this doesn't sound very strange, however. And there <i>is</i> something -very mysterious about them,—at least, so Carol has always said. I never -paid much attention to the thing before, or noticed it. The curious part -of it all is the way they treat Louis. He isn't any real relative, so he -says. His parents and their parents have just been dear friends from a -long way back. It's plain that they think the world of him, too, just as -much as if he were a relative. But there's something more. They are -continually watching him with anxious eyes. They guard him as if he -weren't able to take care of himself any more than a baby. They don't -let him have half the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> liberty and fun that ordinary boys have. Lots of -mothers and fathers, who love their children to distraction, aren't half -as fussy and concerned about them as these two people are about a boy -who isn't even a relative. It makes Louis awfully annoyed, for he hates -like anything to be coddled. Once he fell out of an apple-tree and broke -a rib, and they nearly went wild. He had a fever that night and lay in a -sort of stupor. But when he was coming out of it he heard them talking -awfully queerly about him and wringing their hands and whispering that -"he would never, never forgive us if Monsieur Louis were to die."</p> - -<p>Who "he" was, or why his Aunt Yvonne and his Uncle Jean (as he calls -them) should allude to him as "Monsieur Louis," was something Louis -couldn't understand. And somehow, when he was better, he didn't like to -ask.</p> - -<p>They have taught him French, and with them he always has to speak that -language. But he doesn't like it, because he says he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> an American -citizen and would rather talk "United States" than anything else. He's -awfully patriotic and proud of this country, and he can't understand why -this should bother Mr. and Miss Meadows. But it somehow does. He's sure -of it, for they won't let him talk about it, and are always telling him -that his great grandfather was born in France and that he should be very -proud of it.</p> - -<p>Then there's another thing, too, that seems to worry them a lot. Louis -is crazy about mechanical engineering. He declares he's going to study -that exclusively, when he's through high school, and become an expert in -it. This nearly drives them wild. They want him to be a "statesman," as -they call it, and study law and history and diplomacy and all that sort -of thing.</p> - -<p>"You can serve your country best that way," they are always telling him.</p> - -<p>Once he said to them:</p> - -<p>"The United States has plenty of that sort already. <i>I</i> want to go in -for something special." And he says they never answered a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> word, but -just looked queerly at each other and walked off.</p> - -<p>Another time he found that the lock on their kitchen door wouldn't work, -so he unscrewed it and took it out. He was fixing it when along came his -Aunt Yvonne. When she saw what he was doing she burst into tears and -rushed away, muttering, "The ancient blood! It will ruin -everything!"—or something in French like that.</p> - -<p>All these things do not happen frequently, of course, but when something -like it does occur, it puzzles Louis dreadfully. He always talks it over -with us when we come home together from Bridgeton High School on the -trolley, so that's why I happen to know about it.</p> - -<p>Well, now I've begun this journal by telling all about ourselves and our -homes and everything else I can think of. But as I read it over, it -doesn't sound one bit exciting or likely to become "an interesting -contribution to history," as Miss Cullingford would say. I wonder what -she'd think about it. I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> glad I didn't promise to <i>show</i> her my -journal, for I'm not very proud of this sample. I'm crazy to see what -Carol has written. We're going to compare our journals to-morrow.</p> - -<p>One thing is certain, though. I'm not going to write another word till -I've something more interesting to talk about, even if I have to wait six months!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">NEW DEVELOPMENTS</span></h2> - -<p>December 1, 1913. I haven't written a thing in this journal for over a -week, for a number of reasons. In the first place, I'd made up my mind -not to write till I had something worth writing about. In the second -place, we've been having some exams at school that took a lot of work to -prepare for. Third, Thanksgiving holidays came along, and we were all -pretty busy and had a lot of engagements. Altogether, I haven't had a -minute till now—<i>and</i> something has happened that's rather interesting -to write about.</p> - -<p>Carol is ever so much better at this journal business than I am. She -writes nearly every other day. But then, she doesn't mind writing about -all the little ordinary occurrences,—the things she does about the -housework and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> her studies and so on. But I simply can't do it. If I -can't tell about something a little out of the ordinary, I won't write -at all. And as nothing besides the usual ever happens in either one of -our two households (or at school or in the village!), I find myself -turning more and more to Louis and his affairs for interest.</p> - -<p>It's strange (I've heard other people speak of the same thing, too) that -when you once get to thinking about a certain thing, all sorts of other -ideas and events connected with it will suddenly begin to appear. I -never gave a thought to Louis and his affairs before I began this -journal. He has always lived here, and we've always known him and never -thought there was anything strange about his folks. But now so many -queer little things have happened and so many strange ideas have come to -us (Carol and myself, I mean) about that house across the Green that it -seems as if there <i>must</i> be some mystery right near our commonplace -lives after all.</p> - -<p>Before I tell what happened, however, I must remark that the Imp has -been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>particularly exasperating lately. She got wind somehow or other -(at first we <i>couldn't</i> think how) that Carol and I are keeping -journals. Later I discovered that it was because Carol had carelessly -left hers on the desk in our den, and had forgotten to padlock the door. -Carol is so thoughtless at times, because she gets to going about with -"her head in the clouds," as her Aunt Agatha says, and doesn't remember -half the things she ought to do. It's generally when she's thinking up -some verses. Carol <i>does</i> compose very pretty verses. Miss Cullingford -has praised them highly. But she's always awfully absent-minded when -she's thinking about them.</p> - -<p>Well, the way we learned that the Imp had discovered our journals was by -a large sheet of paper pinned to Carol's barn-door. This was written on it:</p> - -<blockquote><p>November 29. How these precious autumn days fly by! Each one is -like a polished jewel. I made my bed and dusted my room at eight <span class="smaller">A. -M.</span> Then I composed a sweet little poem on "Feeding the Pigs." After -that I slept in the hammock on the porch till lunchtime. The days -are all too short for these many duties!</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>Of course we were furious. Carol confessed to me that she had left her -journal open on the desk in the den, and the last entry was awfully like -what that little wretch had written, only Carol had spoken of composing -a poem on "Feeding the Pigeons." She <i>had</i> slept on the porch all -morning, because it was a lovely mild day and I was away with Mother at -a luncheon in Bridgeton. But she hadn't mentioned this in her journal.</p> - -<p>It is perfectly useless to argue with the Imp, or to scold or reason -with her. She can go you one better every single time. We concluded that -the best thing to do was ignore the incident entirely. So we left the -paper hanging on the barn-door till the wind blew it away. A course of -action like that makes the Imp madder than if you got purple in the face -with fury. I've advised Carol not to leave her journal in the den any -more, but to keep it in her room, and she says she will.</p> - -<p>All this, however, isn't telling what happened to Louis. He told us -about it this afternoon while we were resting on our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>veranda after a -hot session of pitching the basketball about. After a while we just had -to sit down and get our breath, and the Imp strolled off by herself -somewhere. It was then that Louis told us the strange thing that -happened yesterday.</p> - -<p>It seems that his Aunt Yvonne has gone to New York on a visit for a few -days, and he has been alone with his Uncle John and the servant. -Yesterday afternoon, about five o'clock, a boy rode up from the village -on a bicycle with a telegram for his uncle. The old gentleman opened it, -but couldn't read it because he had mislaid his glasses. So he got Louis -to read it to him. Louis says the thing was a cablegram from some place -in France—he can't remember the name—and that it was the queerest -message. It ran like this:</p> - -<blockquote><p>Time almost ripe. Have you the necessary papers? Sail next month.</p></blockquote> - -<p>When his uncle heard this he became terribly excited and began to walk -up and down the room very fast. But when Louis asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> him what it all -meant, all he would say was:</p> - -<p>"It is not for you to inquire or for me to explain just yet, Monsieur!" -Louis says his uncle often calls him "monsieur," and he can't understand -why. He thinks it's generally when the old gentleman forgets himself or -is excited. But it makes Louis feel very queer.</p> - -<p>After that his uncle wouldn't say anything more, but Louis says he began -to rummage around through all his letters and papers, and looked through -all his books and in all the closets, evidently hunting for something he -couldn't find. And the more he hunted, the more nervous and excitable he -grew. Every once in a while he would exclaim, "Ah, why is not that -Yvonne here?" By bedtime he was pretty well worked up, for it was -evident that he couldn't find what he was searching for. Louis tried and -tried to get him to explain and let him help in the hunt. But the old -gentleman would only mutter, "No, no! That cannot be!" Louis says he -doesn't think his uncle slept all night, because he heard him rummaging -about in all sorts of places till<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> nearly morning. To-day he seems -terribly used up. He just sits in his chair by the window, staring out -and watching for his daughter to come. Louis says he had to go down to -the village at eight o'clock last night with a telegram, telling his -Aunt Yvonne to come home at once.</p> - -<p>How mysterious it all sounds! Louis declares he can't imagine what it -means, and it makes him very uneasy, because he is almost certain that -it is something concerning himself. He says he sometimes thinks his -uncle is planning to send him to France before he gets much older, to -complete his studies there and to become a French citizen, and he -doesn't want to go.</p> - -<p>My idea was that perhaps he had some relatives there and that they -wanted him to come back. But Louis says his uncle has often told him -that he hasn't any relatives living. And if he had, he says there's no -reason why there should be all this secrecy about it. But he can't -understand who the people are with whom his uncle is corresponding.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>Carol's opinion was that perhaps Louis was a descendant of some titled -person,—a count or a marquis or something like that,—and that these -people are trying to bring him back to his legal title and estates. -Louis simply hooted at that. He says that his great grandfather was a -plain "monsieur" when he came over here long ago; that he never had been -anything else and didn't want to be. So that Carol's idea was all -nonsense. Carol is always romancing like that, and generally getting -laughed at. Just at this point the Imp came suddenly around the corner -of the veranda and demanded:</p> - -<p>"What are you talking about? I warrant dollars to doughnuts it's about -Louis."</p> - -<p>That child has a perfectly uncanny way of lighting on just the thing you -don't care to have her know about. She's a veritable mind-reader. None -of us cared at that particular moment to explain what we were -discussing, so no one said a word. Meanwhile the Imp eyed us with a -grin. And before any one could think of something to say that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> would -change the subject, she exploded this bomb in our midst:</p> - -<p>"Louis' Aunt Yvonne has come home. She's having a fit!"</p> - -<p>Louis just scooted for his own house as fast as he could. We asked her -how she knew Miss Meadows was having a fit, and she said:</p> - -<p>"Because I saw her drive up and get out of the hack and run up the -steps. I had climbed a tree in their side yard to look into an oriole's -nest, and I heard her open the door and call out a lot of things in -French to old Mr. Meadows."</p> - -<p>The Imp is terribly quick about picking up languages, and she has teased -Louis into teaching her quite a little French, which he declared to us -she picked up with lightning speed. It makes Carol and me furious -sometimes to feel that she has this advantage over us, for we haven't -come to French yet in high school, and are so busy digging out our Latin -that we haven't either time or interest to learn another language on the -side. Well, it humiliated me to pieces to have to ask her what Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -Yvonne said, but I swallowed my pride and did so. All the little wretch -answered, as she walked away, was:</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't you like to know?"</p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/i2.jpg" alt="Wouldn't you like to know? she replied, exasperatingly" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied, exasperatingly</p> - -<p>We didn't see anything more of Louis to-day, and Carol and I are just -burning up with curiosity. I could shake the Imp till her teeth -chattered!</p> - -<p class="space-above">There was a cosy group gathered about the open fire in the Birdseys' -big, comfortable, and not too tidy living-room. At a large center table, -drawn close to the blaze, sat Carol and Sue, scribbling away for dear -life in two large, fat note-books and covering the table with many trial -sheets of mathematical figuring. They were exact opposites in -appearance. Sue was tall and slim to the point of angularity. She had -dark eyes, and her dark hair was coiled heavily about her head. Carol -was short and plump, with dreamy blue eyes and wavy auburn hair that -still hung in a thick braid.</p> - -<p>On the davenport, curled up like a kitten in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> one corner, sat the Imp, -or "Bobs," as she was generally called,—her chin propped in her hands, -a book balanced against her knees. In sharp contrast to the other two -girls was her tiny body and dark, straight hair, and the big blue eyes -that could at one moment gaze with liquid, angelic candor, and at the -next snap with impish mischief. There was mischief in them at the -moment, as she stared reflectively at the two girls bent over the table. -Unaware of her gaze, they scribbled on, comparing notes at intervals.</p> - -<p>"Do you get the answer 4ab(ab+2bm) ½ to your third problem?" presently -inquired Sue, without looking up.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't!" moaned Carol in depressed tones, pushing aside her work -and running her fingers through her hair. "I don't get anything at all."</p> - -<p>"Well, don't worry. Let's see what's wrong. Hand over your work and I'll -compare it with mine," said her companion soothingly. She dragged -Carol's note-book toward her and compared it with her own.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, I see what you've done!" she exclaimed in a moment. "In the first -equation you didn't put down—"</p> - -<p>At this instant the Imp, whose eyes had been smoldering with suppressed -mischief, yawned loudly, stretched herself, and remarked with apparent -irrelevance:</p> - -<p>"It's a long day when you don't go to school, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>Both girls sat up with a jerk and surveyed her sternly.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say that you haven't been to school to-day?" they -demanded in a breath, and Sue added, "I'd like to know why not."</p> - -<p>"I had a bad headache this morning, Susan," explained the Imp sweetly. -"Mother let me stay home. I was all right by two o'clock, though. Louis -and I had a game of basketball before it began to rain."</p> - -<p>Her companions glanced at each other with a meaning expression, none of -which was lost on the Imp. With a grin of satisfaction, she proceeded:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>"His aunt called him in just before we finished, and he didn't come out -again."</p> - -<p>With a visible effort, Sue inquired:</p> - -<p>"Did he say why he wasn't at school to-day? We thought it rather queer -when he didn't come, but perhaps, after the strange thing that happened -yesterday—"</p> - -<p>This was precisely the trap into which the Imp had planned that they -should fall.</p> - -<p>"I didn't ask him," she remarked, with exasperating calm.</p> - -<p>"No doubt you didn't," retorted Carol heatedly, "but perhaps he told you -without being asked."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps he did," returned the Imp, "and perhaps he told me a lot more. -However, I must say bye-bye for the present. I've got to go and study my -lessons somewhere where I won't be disturbed!"</p> - -<p>She scrambled down and sailed out of the room, waving airily to them -from the doorway.</p> - -<p>"Isn't she simply maddening!" exclaimed Sue. "The idea of saying she had -to go and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> study! I never knew her to study a thing in my life. She -seems to know her lessons by instinct."</p> - -<p>"But what <i>do</i> you suppose Louis told her?" mused Carol.</p> - -<p>"Not much, or I miss my guess," returned Sue. "She's only trying to -tease us. But it is strange that he stayed home to-day. Something -serious must be the matter. He hasn't missed a day this term before."</p> - -<p>"But if it was serious," argued Carol, "why should he be out playing -with the Imp?"</p> - -<p>At this moment the door opened and a tall, slender boy of seventeen or -eighteen strolled in, his hands in his overcoat pockets, his cheeks and -overcoat still wet with the driving rain.</p> - -<p>"Hello, girls!" he remarked, warming his hands by the blaze of the open -fire.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Dave!" they replied. "Where did you come from?"</p> - -<p>"Been over to Louis's. Queer thing about it, too," he commented, -dropping down on the vacant davenport.</p> - -<p>"What?" they gasped in breathless chorus.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>He looked at them inquiringly.</p> - -<p>"Why all the astonishment on <i>your</i> part?" he demanded. "What do you -know about it, anyway?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, a lot of queer things seem to be happening to Louis lately," -explained Carol. "But go on! Tell us all about it."</p> - -<p>"Well, Father didn't need me to-night, so I thought I'd stroll over to -Louis's and see if he wanted a little session with that higher -mathematics course that he and I are working at together on our own -hook. I rang at the front door several times, but didn't get any -response. Then I tried the back door, with no better luck. There was a -light in the parlor, too, but, on glancing in the window, I saw that no -one was there. Mr. Meadows had evidently gone to bed. I had just started -out to the barn, thinking that Louis might be in his work-room there, -when I noticed a light in one of the cellar windows. I then felt sure -that Louis was down there, clearing up or getting vegetables for his -aunt, so I went over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> and peeped in, thinking to give him a surprise. It -was <i>I</i> who got the surprise, though!"</p> - -<p>"What did you see?" demanded Sue in an awestricken whisper.</p> - -<p>"Funniest sight ever! There Miss Yvonne was standing with a lamp in her -hand, and Louis, with a pickaxe and shovel, had pried out one of the -stones in the foundation near the big chimney and was poking around in -the hole he'd made, while Miss Yvonne stared into it, those big black -eyes of hers as round as saucers. While I was still looking, she shook -her head, motioned Louis to put the stone back, and pointed to another a -little farther along. I began to feel as if I'd lit on something that -wasn't any business of mine, so instead of knocking on the window as I'd -intended, I just got up and came away. Guess they must be hunting for -buried treasure or something. Never knew they suspected the presence of -any in their old ranch. Louis didn't look as if he were particularly -enjoying the job, however."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>"Well, that's about all," he ended, suddenly remembering what, in the -excitement of the little adventure, he had momentarily forgotten,—his -superior pose toward all girls and toward his sister in particular. Then -he vanished swiftly out of the room, lest they be moved to ask him any -further questions and lest he be tempted to answer.</p> - -<p>After he had gone, Sue and Carol stared at each other in a maze of -excited conjecture.</p> - -<p>"What do you make of it?" sighed Carol.</p> - -<p>"I don't make anything of it," declared Sue. "It sounds too mysterious -for words. But I know this much. They weren't hunting for buried -treasure. It's for papers of some kind. I'm sure of it. But what can -they be about, and why should they be in the cellar?"</p> - -<p>But Carol was off on another tack.</p> - -<p>"At last we'll have something worth while to write about in our -journals," she remarked. "Don't you ever think again, Susette Birdsey, -that nothing exciting happens in our lives! I can fill up three or four -pages about it."</p> - -<p>Her companion assented absently.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>"Do you realize," she suddenly exclaimed, "that here's where we got way -ahead of the Imp? Serves her right for playing us such a mean trick and -going out of the room. I call it a piece of downright luck!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">THE IMP HAS THE BEST OF IT</span></h2> - -<p>December 31. This is New Year's Eve and it's nearly twelve o'clock. -Carol and I promised each other that we'd sit up and see the old year -out, and write in our journals. Carol is finishing a lovely poem she's -been writing, called, "On New Year's Eve." It begins:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>The silent snow is falling light,</div> -<div class="i1">On New Year's Eve, on New Year's Eve,—</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>That's all I can remember of it. The only trouble is that there isn't -any snow falling to-night. There's a regular thaw on, and it's -dreadfully warm and mushy.</p> - -<p>There's something awfully solemn about New Year's Eve. It makes you feel -sorry for all the mean things you've done, and you form all sorts of -good resolutions for the future.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> At least, I do, and so does Carol. But -I have my doubts about the Imp. I don't believe she is sorry for a -single thing she's ever done. She doesn't act so, anyway.</p> - -<p>And speaking of her, I've made it my principal resolution for the new -year to be more patient with her. I suppose every one has to have some -great trial in life, and the Imp is certainly the chief one for Carol -and me. Lately she has been more than usually infuriating. Every -afternoon during the past month she has inquired of us, "Have you -written in your journals to-day, my dears? If not, run and do so at -once."</p> - -<p>When she first began to say that, I made the mistake of asking her how -she knew I was keeping a journal. She retorted:</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's easy. I found out that Cad was, so of course I knew you were -up to the same trick. You're as like each other as two penny hat-pins."</p> - -<p>All I could think of to answer was:</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't see that it is any one's affair but our own, if we <i>are</i> -keeping them."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>To this she returned:</p> - -<p>"Who said it was?"</p> - -<p>"You did," I retorted, "and I'll be obliged to you not to take it upon -yourself to remind us about writing in them."</p> - -<p>All she replied to this was:</p> - -<p>"Louis's folks got another cablegram this morning. You'd better put that -in."</p> - -<p>Then she walked off and wouldn't say another word. That's just exactly -like her. She's bound to light on the very thing you'd rather she didn't -know about. And she always seems to have inside information about -something you'd give your head to know about and never seem to get hold -of. How she knew about the cablegram, I can't think, unless she saw the -messenger-boy come up with it and questioned him afterward.</p> - -<p>We've never said a word to Louis about the queer thing Dave told us he -saw on that rainy night nearly a month ago. At first I wanted to, but -Carol said that it would look as if we had been spying on them, and, in -thinking it over, I agreed with her. Another thing, I felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> sure that if -he wanted us to know, or thought we ought to know, he'd tell us himself -and explain what it was all about. But he never has, so either he thinks -we oughtn't to know, or his folks have warned him not to speak of it. -I'm quite certain it must be the latter, because several times he has -almost been on the point of speaking of something and suddenly stopped -short, as if he remembered he oughtn't to. Dave, of course, has been as -mum as an oyster ever since. He's a dear fellow in lots of ways, but he -does act too absurdly at present about us girls. You would think we -hadn't any more sense than babies in a nursery, the way he treats -us,—not exactly unkind, but just sort of condescending and superior. -Mother says he'll grow out of it soon. He and Louis are still great -chums, but they don't see as much of each other since Dave left high -school.</p> - -<p>Nothing further that's strange seems to have happened over at the house -across the Green, except for one little thing. A few days before -Christmas I went over to return<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> to Miss Yvonne a package of spice that -Mother had had to borrow in a hurry, and I found the place in the -greatest upset. Miss Yvonne seemed to be giving the whole establishment -a thorough housecleaning, which is rather strange, for she gave it the -usual autumn cleaning only this last October. I can't for the life of me -see why she wanted to do it all over again so soon. I spoke to Louis -about it next day, and he said she was having some papering and painting -done, too.</p> - -<p>They were all upset during the Christmas season, and had to eat their -Christmas dinner in the kitchen. Louis says it was a miserable holiday -for him, all except our party in the evening. I can't imagine why Miss -Yvonne should do such a curious thing. And Louis says she's having one -big room that they've never used fixed up in great style,—fresh, -handsome wall-paper and new furniture and a brass bed, and everything to -match.</p> - -<p>"Do you think she expects any visitors?" I said.</p> - -<p>"Why, no!" he answered, looking awfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> surprised. "She hasn't said -anything about it to me."</p> - -<p>Then I asked him if he knew they had received a cablegram two weeks -before, and he was astonished and said that he didn't, and asked how I -knew. I told him what the Imp had said, and as soon as he heard this, he -answered:</p> - -<p>"It's more of that beastly mystery, Sue, and I suppose I oughtn't to -talk about it, because I've promised them I wouldn't. I hate it! <i>I hate -it!</i>"</p> - -<p>I never saw Louis so worked up before. But he wouldn't go on talking -about it any more,—because of his promise, I suppose,—so there matters -rest for the present.</p> - -<p class="space-above">New Year's Day, January 1, 1914. I just stopped a while ago to listen to -the village church-bells ring twelve o'clock. I turned out the light and -opened the window and leaned out. It all sounded very solemn, but it -would have been much more impressive if there had been a lovely white -fall of snow, with full<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> moonlight glistening on it. Instead of that, it -was raining and everything smelled damp and drippy. I like things to -seem appropriate, but somehow they never seem to be,—at least, not the -way you read about them in books.</p> - -<p>While I was looking out, I happened to glance over at Louis's house and -saw such a queer thing. Way up in one of the little attic-windows there -was a light. After a moment I made out that it was from an oil-lamp that -some one was carrying about, for it didn't remain steady long at a time. -I hated to be spying on our neighbors, but I couldn't have taken my eyes -away from that sight if I'd been offered a thousand dollars. It was -<i>too</i> uncanny. In another moment I discovered that it was Miss Yvonne -moving slowly about in front of the immense chimney that is opposite the -window, feeling carefully of every brick and picking at them with her -fingers, as if to learn if any were loose. It seemed the strangest thing -to be doing at midnight on New Year's Eve, but all of a sudden it dawned -on me that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> she must be trying to discover if any brick was loose -<i>because</i>—something might be hidden behind it!</p> - -<p>I got so excited about it that I could hardly stand still. But the next -minute the light disappeared, and I realized that she had given up the -search and gone downstairs. Whether she found what she was looking for -or not, I don't know. Probably she didn't, or she would have stayed -longer.</p> - -<p>After that I shut my window, lit my light, and now am finishing this. I -wonder if Carol saw what I did? She was going to look out of her window -at midnight, too. But she couldn't have seen it, I'm sure, because her -house is on the other side of Louis's, and that attic-window wouldn't -have been visible to her. My, won't I have something exciting to tell -her to-morrow!</p> - -<p>Mother has just opened her door and called out "Happy New Year!" to me. -She told me to put out my light and go to bed, or I'd fall asleep at -Anita Brown's party to-morrow night—no, I mean <i>to-night</i>. I guess I'll -have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> to end this for the present, but I don't believe I'll be able to -sleep. Life is certainly growing more and more exciting, with your -neighbors receiving mysterious cablegrams from abroad and digging in the -cellar and hunting about in the attic at midnight and all the other -curious doings. I hope it doesn't seem like prying into their affairs to -have discovered all these things. Each time it was quite by accident. -But Mother and Father have always taught us how horrid it was to be -curious about your neighbors. Well, as long as I don't deliberately pry -or talk about it to any one except Carol, I'm sure no harm will be done.</p> - -<p>As this is my first entry in my journal for 1914, I'll wish everybody a -"Happy New Year" and hope this will be a glorious <i>good</i> year for every -one in the world.</p> - -<p class="space-above">Sue Birdsey lay on the davenport by the fire. She was covered by an -afghan and her face was propped up on a hot-water-bag. On the table near -her was a huge packet of absorbent cotton and several bottles of -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>medicine. Near her hand lay a book, unheeded. Unheeded, also, was the -brilliant mid-January sun streaming in at the west windows. Of what use -are books and sunlight, indeed, in the face of a raging toothache! On -the opposite side of the hearth sat Carol, disconsolately urging a -renewal of some one of the medicines.</p> - -<p>"It's no earthly use!" moaned Sue. "I've tried it a dozen times. Wait -till the Imp gets back with that stuff your Aunt Agatha recommended. -I'll try that, and if it doesn't stop it, I'll walk straight down to the -dentist and have it out."</p> - -<p>"I believe it's going to ulcerate," remarked Carol, like the "Job's -Comforter" she was always inclined to be.</p> - -<p>Sue's only reply was to hurl a sofa-cushion at her and subside again on -the hot-water-bag. No further remarks were exchanged. The sun sank in a -few moments and the room grew dark. Carol turned on the light and -muttered something about how long the Imp was. After a few more gloomy -moments, punctuated by groans from Sue, the door was flung open<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> and the -Imp rushed in, bringing a blast of chilly air with her.</p> - -<p>"Here it is!" she cried. "I had to wait an awful while for him to get it -ready. You fix her up, Cad."</p> - -<p>While Carol administered the remedy according to directions, the Imp -straightened out the rumpled afghan and refilled the hot-water-bag. She -could be singularly helpful in case of sickness or an emergency, and -seemed actually to delight in being of use,—a change of demeanor that -never failed to astonish the other two girls. So accustomed were they to -regard the Imp as their sworn enemy that this angelic demeanor quite -disarmed them.</p> - -<p>Five minutes after the remedy had been applied Sue sat up with a jerk.</p> - -<p>"Hurrah! The pain's all gone. It went like magic. I feel like a new -creature. No more of this for me!" She rose from the couch, pushing away -the signs of her temporary invalidism. "Imp, you certainly are a trump. -Come, Carol, let's get at our work for to-morrow."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>Ten minutes later they were busy at the long table, and the Imp again -settled on the couch, apparently deep in a book. It was Sue who looked -up after a while, to find her eyeing them with the pleased, quiet, -provoking smile whose meaning they had come to know so well. The desire -to investigate its cause proved, as usual, irresistible.</p> - -<p>"What are you grinning at, Bobs?" Sue demanded. "You look as pleased as -Punch. Anything happened?" It was well always to placate her by -appearing agreeable.</p> - -<p>"Oh, nothing special!" she replied, in a manner that made them perfectly -certain there was something very special. "I happened to notice a while -ago that an automobile drove up to Louis's gate, and that Miss Yvonne -got out and began to give the chauffeur a regular tongue-lashing in -French, because he'd driven up from the station over the joltiest road, -instead of taking the smooth one. He doesn't understand French, so he -didn't in the least get what she was driving at. It made me laugh."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>"But what under the sun was Miss Yvonne coming up from the station in -an automobile for?" Carol exclaimed. "She hasn't been away. She hasn't -even been to Bridgeton, for I've seen her around early this afternoon. -She always walks up from the village. You must be crazy."</p> - -<p>"She walked down to the village about four o'clock," the Imp informed -them. "I saw her start off. And I guess she had good reason to come back -in an auto." The Imp went on reading after this, just as if she hadn't -any idea that she was driving them wild.</p> - -<p>"Well, what <i>was</i> the reason?" inquired Sue, trying to look only mildly -interested. "Was she ill, or did she have a lot of bundles to carry, or -was she in a great hurry?"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you the reason," answered the Imp, "if you'll give me that -nice, fat, new blank-book you bought the other day. It's worth it, too."</p> - -<p>"I'll do nothing of the sort!" Sue cried indignantly. "I have a special -use for that book,"—as a matter of fact, she was going to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> re-copy her -journal in it—"and I'll find out some other way."</p> - -<p>"You won't find out anything before to-morrow afternoon, probably," the -Imp returned, "for Louis isn't going to school. He told me so."</p> - -<p>Sue made up her mind that she wasn't going to give in to her, but Carol -broke up that intention.</p> - -<p>"Oh, give it to her!" she whispered. "I've another just as good that you -can have. And I'm wild to hear what's up across the Green."</p> - -<p>Sue handed the blank-book across to the Imp, and said, as witheringly as -she could:</p> - -<p>"Here, take it, if you want it as badly as that! Of course you know -you're taking a mean advantage of us, but that's nothing to you. Fire -away!"</p> - -<p>"I thought you couldn't wait till to-morrow," the Imp retorted. "Well, -here goes. Miss Yvonne rode up in an auto because—she had some one with -her."</p> - -<p>"Who <i>was</i> it?" cried Carol impatiently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> "Don't dole out your -information in little drops. Tell us the rest."</p> - -<p>"I didn't ask the person's name," said the Imp, in that maddeningly -polite way she sometimes assumed. "It didn't seem any affair of mine."</p> - -<p>"Naturally," Sue answered, as calmly as she could. "We'd only be much -obliged to know whether it was a man, woman, girl, boy, or baby. Please -remember you've got the book and that you haven't paid for it yet."</p> - -<p>"I always pay my debts," she answered, trying not to giggle, "and I only -agreed to tell you the reason why Miss Yvonne came up in the auto. I've -done that. But since you're so hard up for information, I'll hand out a -little more small change—just because I'm sorry for you. It was a man, -a very old man, all wrapped up in a big fur coat."</p> - -<p>"Did Louis know he was coming?" Carol demanded.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no! Louis didn't know," answered the Imp, "but I did; for I heard -Miss Yvonne<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> telling old Mr. Meadows yesterday, when they were out by -the barn, that all was ready for 'Monsieur's' arrival to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"You're a mean little thing to be always eavesdropping about," cried -Sue, "and meaner yet never to tell us a word of what you hear."</p> - -<p>"You're quite mistaken if you think I eavesdrop, as you call it," -retorted the Imp indignantly. "I was in plain sight all the time -yesterday, patching up that snow-fort of Louis's, and they both saw me. -Only Miss Yvonne spoke in French, and I guess she doesn't know that I -understand it. As for not telling you two anything, I'd like to know why -I should. You never tell anything to me, that is, if you can possibly -help it." This was entirely true, as they were bound to confess.</p> - -<p>The Imp took up her book and marched huffily to the door. But before she -left the room she turned and called back:</p> - -<p>"It's a thankless job trying to be nice to you two. You're absolutely -ungrateful. And I'll tell you right now, I know one piece<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> of -information, besides all this, that you'd give your eye-teeth to -hear,—but you won't. It's about who this mysterious 'monsieur' <i>is</i>!"</p> - -<p>With that she went out, slamming the door behind her.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">THE MYSTERIOUS "MONSIEUR"</span></h2> - -<p>There had been a heavy fall of snow during the night. It lay on trees -and hedges in great, powdery clumps, and drifted over the Green in huge, -wind-swept hillocks. But the sky that afternoon was blue and cloudless, -and the click of snow-shovels rang out on the still air. In front of the -Birdseys' gate Carol and Sue were frantically shoveling a footway, not -because they had to, but for the sheer joy of exercise in the -invigorating air.</p> - -<p>"It's queer we haven't seen anything of Louis since that visitor came," -commented Carol. "He's missing a lot of time at school, and I'm sure he -hates that."</p> - -<p>"Yes, it's three days since 'Monsieur,' as the Imp calls him, came. We -haven't seen anything of <i>him</i>, either," added Sue. "Do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> suppose -he's going to stay shut up and invisible all the time? Who do you -suppose he is, anyway, and doesn't it make you furious to think that the -Imp knows, or says she does, and that we don't?"</p> - -<p>"There's Louis now," was Carol's only reply. "He's just come out to -shovel his walk," and she waved her own shovel to him in greeting.</p> - -<p>In another moment Louis had strolled over to join them. He was of medium -height, a slenderly-built fellow, with short-cropped, wavy, chestnut -hair and fine brown eyes. He also possessed a smile that was peculiarly -winning.</p> - -<p>"Hello, you strangers! I thought you'd be out this afternoon. Isn't it -ripping weather?" he greeted them. "Where's Dave?"</p> - -<p>"He's gone to Bridgeton with Father," answered Sue, "but where have -<i>you</i> been all this time? Not sick, I hope?"</p> - -<p>The boy's face clouded and he dug his shovel viciously into a snowbank.</p> - -<p>"No, not sick, but dilly-dallying around the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> house, helping to wait on -that old gentleman. They don't seem to care how much time I lose."</p> - -<p>It was the first time the girls had ever heard him speak so bitterly.</p> - -<p>"We heard that you had a visitor," said Carol, striving hard to seem -only politely interested.</p> - -<p>"Oh, we have a visitor, all right, but I'm blest if I know why he's -taken up his abode with us, nor even who he is, for that matter."</p> - -<p>At this rather astonishing statement both girls looked somewhat -startled.</p> - -<p>"I know it sounds queer to say it," went on the boy, "and I'm not sure -they'd thank me for saying it, either, but it's the honest truth, and -I've got to say it to some one, or I'll explode with indignation."</p> - -<p>"But what do you call him, if you don't know who he is?" queried Sue.</p> - -<p>"Well, he <i>says</i> his name is Monsieur de Vaubert, but I strongly doubt -it. I found his handkerchief lying on a chair yesterday, and it had the -initial F on it. Later I asked Aunt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> Yvonne what his first name was, and -she said 'Philippe.' So can you figure out where F comes in? I can't."</p> - -<p>"All that Aunt and Uncle will tell me about him," he went on, "is that -he is a descendant of an old friend of my father's family in France; -that he has always been much interested in me and has come over here to -visit and make my acquaintance. It sounds all right as far as it goes, -but I'm morally certain that that isn't the whole of it. They treat him -as if he were some sort of high mogul, and he treats them in the most -politely condescending manner you ever saw. But the way he acts toward -me is a caution. In some ways you'd think I was the Grand Lama of Tibet, -and that he was my most humble slave. Then at other times he gets so -dictatorial about my studies and work and the way I spend my time that I -just have to hold on to something to prevent going up in the air. I -confess that I don't know what he's driving at, and I could chew his -head off sometimes, I get so mad. And yet in other ways he's a fine old -chap,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> and I can't help but admire him. Here he comes now. He said he -would come out a few moments this afternoon."</p> - -<p>They all looked across the Green as he spoke, to see the figure of an -elderly gentleman, very much muffled up in a fur coat, slowly pacing -down the walk. He seemed about seventy-five years of age, and he walked -with a visible stoop, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent -slightly forward. His eyes were black and piercing, and his hair and -mustache were almost white. His nose was sharp and eagle-like, and his -whole appearance was very distinguished and foreign. Both Sue and Carol -were decidedly impressed.</p> - -<p>"Well," added Louis, "I must go back and be polite, I suppose, and also -shovel my walk. By the way, I'll be over at your house, Sue, to-morrow -evening, if it's convenient, and get some idea from you girls of what -I've been missing at high school all this week. Tell Dave I'll spend an -hour or two with him afterward. So long!"</p> - -<p>After he had left them the girls went on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> with their shoveling, but they -could not, for the life of them, keep from gazing occasionally across at -the mysterious stranger on the other side of the Green. They saw Louis -return and speak to him for several moments, pacing along at his side, -and later he left him to commence a vigorous attack on an unshoveled -path.</p> - -<p>Then they saw a curious thing. Monsieur de Vaubert, stopping short in -his pacing, stared almost aghast at Louis. Next, striding up to him and -snatching the shovel from his hand, he spoke loudly and rapidly in -French, as if in remonstrance. They heard Louis expostulating in the -same language and exhibiting every sign of disagreement and dismay. At -length he shrugged his shoulders hopelessly and turned to go into the -house, leaving Monsieur to continue his pacing alone.</p> - -<p>"Well!" exclaimed Carol. "What on earth do you make of <i>that</i>?"</p> - -<p>"It looks very much as if 'Monsieur' didn't approve of Louis's -snow-shoveling," commented Sue, wonderingly. "But why? Do you know, I -believe he thinks Louis is delicate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> and oughtn't to exert himself. What -a crazy idea! Louis is really as strong as an ox, even if he is slender. -He can throw Dave at wrestling every time, even if he is lighter in -weight. I can imagine how furious it must make Louis to be coddled that -way."</p> - -<p>They went on digging industriously. Suddenly Carol whispered to Sue:</p> - -<p>"For pity's sake, look at that!"</p> - -<p>It was the Imp, who had evidently walked up from the village and was -just passing Louis's house. On beholding the visitor still pacing up and -down the walk in the sunlight, she had called out, "<i>Bon jour, -Monsieur!</i>" She had been answered by the most courtly of bows, and "<i>Bon -jour, petite Mademoiselle Hélène.</i>" Then she passed on, turning the -corner of the Green toward her own house.</p> - -<p>The two girls stared at each other, speechless.</p> - -<p>"Will you tell me how under the sun she came to know him?" gasped Sue, -indignantly. "And she never has said a single word to us about it!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"Don't ask me," returned Carol. "Find out from her, if you can. She's -the most exasperating mortal I ever came across."</p> - -<p>The Imp came on gaily, waving to them as affably as if she were quite -unaware of the shock she had just given them. They did not acknowledge -her salute,—a mistake they were sorry for later.</p> - -<p>"How long is it since you became acquainted with 'Monsieur'?" demanded -Sue, as soon as she had joined them. She did not try to keep annoyance -out of her voice.</p> - -<p>"Oh, a whole twenty-four hours has elapsed since the event!" grinned the -Imp, more impishly than usual. "Didn't I tell you?"</p> - -<p>"You know perfectly well that you didn't!" cried Sue.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm sorry,—since it seems to worry you so much. Louis introduced -us yesterday afternoon. We met just outside of Louis' gate. Monsieur was -taking the air just before the snow began, and, as it happened, so was -I. You two might have been, also, if you hadn't felt so lazy and hung -about the fire <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>indoors." As usual, she had hit them on the raw. They -might have known it!</p> - -<p>"I think he is quite charming," went on the Imp amiably. "We had a long -talk. He praised my French accent, and says that he prefers to call me -'Mademoiselle Hélène,' instead of 'Bobs' or 'Bobbie' or even 'Roberta.' -He asked me a lot of questions about this place and the village and all -that, and finally he told me why he came here."</p> - -<p>"He <i>did</i>?" gasped the two girls. "What was the reason?" At that moment -they could have hugged her for seeming so communicative.</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you," she answered with dangerous sweetness. "He came over to -see Louis!" Their faces fell, but they tried hard not to show their -indignation.</p> - -<p>"Of course," agreed Sue, "but <i>why</i> did he come over here to see Louis? -That's the question."</p> - -<p>"If I told you <i>that</i>, I wouldn't have any interesting secret of my -own," answered the Imp loftily.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>Then, feeling her revenge complete, she sped away into the house, -leaving the puzzled and indignant pair behind her.</p> - -<p class="space-above">January 20, 1914. Louis told us the <i>strangest</i> thing to-night. I must -write about it before I go to bed. It makes this mystery about the queer -old gentleman at his house deeper and deeper. He came over (Louis, I -mean) to our house to-night, as he said he would yesterday. But he -seemed perfectly furious about something, and instead of wanting to -study, he said he'd just have to tell us what had happened, or burst. -Fortunately, Carol and I were alone. If the Imp had been around, I just -couldn't have stood having her hear everything that we did. She knows -too much already,—sometimes I think a great deal more than we -do,—about all this, and I'm glad to get ahead of her on something. -Anyhow, this is what Louis told us:</p> - -<p>"This morning was the limit," he began. "I thought I'd take a spell at -working on that little motor-boat I'm building in the old <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>feed-room at -the back of the barn. I haven't done much at it lately, because the -weather's been so cold. But to-day was mild, and I thought I could make -a lot of progress. You know I've saved up enough of my pocket-money for -the engine, and I'm going to send for it next month. Well, what must -Monsieur do, but trail out to the barn after me. I couldn't very well -prevent him, so I let him come along, but I didn't explain what I was -doing there till we got into the room.</p> - -<p>"And, if you'll believe it, no sooner did he lay eyes on that cedar -hull, and realize that it was my work, than he flew into a towering -passion. He stamped around the room, muttering a lot of things in French -that even I couldn't understand, though I caught the expression, 'The -blood of that mechanic—<i>always</i>—<i>always!</i>' repeated several times. I -was simply speechless with astonishment, and just stood staring at him -open-mouthed.</p> - -<p>"All of a sudden he raised his cane and hit the boat a horrible whack -right on the gunwale. It made a dent that I don't suppose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> any amount of -tinkering or painting will ever remove. Then I 'saw red,' as they say. -The idea of his presuming to do such a beastly thing! I just rushed at -him, tore the cane from his hand, and threw it straight through the -window. It smashed the glass and sash and everything. And I shouted, -'How dare you! How dare you!' I guess I was really too furious to think -what I was doing. But it had the strangest effect on Monsieur.</p> - -<p>"He stopped suddenly, and his face, from being a brick-red with anger, -went perfectly white. He drew himself up in a sort of military way, as -stiff as a poker, and then bowed very low and made a military salute. 'I -beg a thousand pardons, Monsieur. I am deeply sorry!' he said. I asked -him what in the world he meant, anyway, but he only kept repeating that -he was 'deeply humiliated at his fit of temper,' and begged me to think -no more of it. Then I asked him if he didn't approve of my making the -boat, and he said, 'No; that I was cut out for something better than -that laborer's work.'</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>"That remark made me madder than ever, and I asked him if it was not a -good piece of work, and oughtn't any one to be proud of doing a thing -like that so well. He only replied that I had far other things to be -proud of, but I noticed that he didn't say what. So I just faced him.</p> - -<p>"'Look here,' I said. 'Just tell me one thing, like a man, won't you? -What are you here for, anyway? Am I the descendant of some duke or -marquis or that sort of thing, and are you here to try to get me to go -back to France and be one myself?' You see, what Carol said the other -day sort of stuck in my crop, and that boat business rather confirmed -it. I went on to say to him, 'Because if that's so, you needn't bother. -I won't go!'</p> - -<p>"He didn't say a word for a minute or two. He just stood staring at me -as if he'd never seen me before. Then he said, very quietly:</p> - -<p>"'No, Monsieur. You are quite mistaken. It is something vastly -different, and I cannot explain it now. You must be content to wait. -But, be assured, it will both astonish and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>delight you when it is -disclosed.' And with that he walked off and took to his bed again, I -guess, for I haven't seen him since. But I've been 'hot under the -collar' ever since at the damage he did to my boat."</p> - -<p>"Well, all that is mighty strange," I said, another idea suddenly -dawning on me. "He doesn't seem to want you to do any work. Was that why -he objected to you shoveling snow yesterday?"</p> - -<p>"The very thing," replied Louis. "I was astonished when he said to me, -'Where is that Meadows and his servant? Why are you required to do this -menial work?' I tried to explain to him that I liked it and was doing it -for exercise, but he simply couldn't understand. He kept exclaiming, 'It -is not fitting!' till I got so disgusted that I gave it up. If this sort -of thing keeps up, I'll run away to sea or do something desperate. I -declare I will!"</p> - -<p>"Are you glad, Louis, that you're not a duke or a marquis or anything -like that?" I asked. "I should think you'd have thought it fine."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>"I'd simply detest it, Sue," he answered. "I don't want to be anything -but an American citizen—<i>ever!</i> But if this mystery business doesn't -clear up soon, I'll be a raving lunatic."</p> - -<p class="space-above">Well, I'm disappointed myself to have Carol's nice theory all knocked to -pieces, for it would have been so romantic and unusual. But if it isn't -that, what on earth <i>can</i> it be?</p> - -<p>And <i>how</i> much does that wretched little Imp know?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">TWO ACCIDENTS AND A MYSTERY</span></h2> - -<p>February 17. I'm writing this under a good deal of difficulty, for my -left hand is in a sling and this blank-book slips around dreadfully. The -truth is that I had quite an accident the other day, and have been laid -up ever since. It was the day after I last wrote in my journal. We'd had -a heavy fall of snow overnight, followed by a hard frost. The coasting -on Eastward Hill was gorgeous, and we spent the whole of the next -afternoon there. Just at the last the Imp suggested that we try the -slide down the north slope of the hill. It's ever so much steeper than -the one we usually take, and is considered rather dangerous.</p> - -<p>Louis said we'd better not, but the Imp begged so hard that we agreed to -try it just once. So Louis took Carol on his bobsled, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> the Imp and I -had the other. She was steering, because she's awfully good at that. -They went first, and we followed. Everything went finely at the start. -It's the most exciting thing going down that steep slide, and I was just -enjoying it when suddenly something went wrong. I'm not sure yet just -what it was, but the Imp says there must have been a buried branch or -something under one of our runners.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, the first I knew I was lying with my head in a snowbank and my -left arm doubled under me in the queerest manner. The Imp had been -landed in the bank, too, but she wasn't a bit hurt and was up in a -jiffy, dragging me out. First I thought I was all right, but when I -stood up my left arm began to hurt me so that I thought I'd die with the -pain of it. They put me on one of the sleds and hustled me home in a -hurry, and Louis went for the doctor.</p> - -<p>He said it was only a sprain, but that I must stay in the house for a -while and take good care of it. So here I've been ever since. The Imp -has been an angel. That sounds funny, but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> mean it! She nearly died of -remorse at having been the cause of my accident, and she can't do enough -for me. She waits on me hand and foot, and hasn't teased or been a bit -exasperating once. To show how angelic she can be, I must write what she -told me yesterday. She came in from a walk to the village, where she'd -been to get me some grapefruit, and announced:</p> - -<p>"What do you think? I walked back most of the way with Monsieur. His -things have come."</p> - -<p>"What things?" I asked, astonished, for I knew that his trunks came the -day after he arrived.</p> - -<p>"Oh, didn't you know? A few things he brought with him. Two or three -pictures and a big lot of books."</p> - -<p>"But what did he bring over things like that for?" I demanded. "If he's -only here for a visit, it's rather queer for him to be carting books and -pictures about with him. I shouldn't think he'd be staying long enough -to make it worth while."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>"I think he's going to stay quite a long while," the Imp replied. -"Perhaps it will be a year or more, judging from what he says."</p> - -<p>"How do you know all this?" I asked. It aroused all the old, jealous -feeling again to think that she knew so much more about it than I did.</p> - -<p>"Why, this way. You see, we were walking up together, and we'd got about -as far as Louis's gate when we both noticed a cart, with those things -piled on it, standing there. Miss Yvonne was talking to the driver. -Monsieur suddenly said, 'Ah, my things have come! That is well!' Then he -turned to me and said, 'They are my most precious possessions. I never -travel far without them.' I said it was too bad that they'd been delayed -so long getting here from the steamer. For you know he's been here -nearly a month. Then he said, 'They were not delayed, Mademoiselle -Hélène. I did not send for them at once because—I was not sure I should -stay. Now I feel that my stay may be long.'</p> - -<p>"Wasn't that queer?" added the Imp.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> "Why do you suppose he first -thought he mightn't stay long, and then decided that he would?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps he likes it here better than he thought he would," I suggested.</p> - -<p>"Nothing of the sort!" answered the Imp. "He hates it. He told me the -climate was abominable. He didn't see how any one could exist in it."</p> - -<p>"Then it must be because he likes the Meadows' and Louis so much," I -decided.</p> - -<p>"I don't think that has anything to do with it," replied the Imp. "I'm -certain it's something else. He's staying on because things haven't gone -the way he'd planned. If they had, he'd have gone right home. I've -figured that much out about him."</p> - -<p>We didn't have any more time for talk just then, for Mother came in to -say that dinner was ready. But I've been thinking and thinking ever -since about what the Imp told me. She was never so communicative with me -before. It's worth while to have a damaged arm, but I wonder how long it -will last. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> wish Carol were over here right now, so that I could tell -her. But she has a cold, and I haven't seen her for two days.</p> - -<p>It has seemed rather curious to me, right along, that we young folks -were the only ones who seemed interested in Louis's affair and the new -visitor. I wondered why. But something that was said at table last night -made me realize that we are, after all, the only ones who know much of -the <i>inside</i> of that affair. For instance, Mother said to Father:</p> - -<p>"Who is that queer old gentleman visiting across the Green? He seems -like a foreigner."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur something-or-other," Father answered. "I didn't catch his -name, though Louis tried to introduce us the other day, when they were -passing where I was working in the north pasture. I've never quite -understood the Meadows' household, anyway. They seem queer and -foreign—all but Louis. He is a true American boy. I've often wondered -where John Meadows hailed from. He brought Louis here as a small baby, -and I never knew where he came from. He would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> never say much about it. -By the way, Simpson wrote that we could have that new fertilizer next -month."</p> - -<p>And that's all they thought or cared about it. But, at any rate, their -conversation had given me one bit of news—about Louis having been -brought here as a little baby, and that folks didn't know the Meadows' -people before. I'd always supposed that they had lived here all along, -too. I wonder if Louis knows this? I wonder if I had better tell him? I -don't know. Somehow that, and the news the Imp brought to-day, has made -me feel about as mixed up as possible. I can't make head or tail of -anything. I wish Carol were here.</p> - -<p>I've just been looking over this journal from the beginning, noticing -all the queer things that have come up about Louis since I began it. I -think I'll put them down in order and see if it will help me to make -anything out of the strange situation.</p> - -<p>First, the queer way that Louis's folks have always treated him and the -fact that he isn't any real relation. That looks to me very much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> as if -his antecedents or his forefathers or whatever you call them must have -been of some different station of life from the Meadows people. And yet -Louis says their families have always been old friends. At any rate, -they must feel, for some reason, responsible for him to some one, or -they wouldn't be so careful about him. By the way, that some one must be -"Monsieur"; who else <i>could</i> it be?</p> - -<p>Next there were those mysterious cablegrams. Of course they were from -"Monsieur," but what did he mean by saying, "The time is ripe"? Sounds -as if some sort of plot was being hatched. And then about those papers. -<i>What</i> are they, and <i>where</i> are they? Have they anything to do with -Louis? I suppose they must. Does Louis himself know anything about them? -He has never said a word to us.</p> - -<p>Besides, there was that queer performance when Miss Yvonne had Louis dig -in the cellar at night. I'm simply positive she must have been hunting -for the papers then, and also on New Year's Eve in the attic. I believe -they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> must be documents to prove that Louis is to come into a great -fortune, perhaps one that his ancestors left him. Yes, that's a brand -new idea, and I'm certain it's nearer the truth than anything we've -thought of yet. "Monsieur" is probably the family lawyer in France, and -has come to straighten everything out. Hurrah! I do wish Carol was here, -so that we could talk this over. It's a much more sensible idea than the -one that Louis is the descendant of some titled person. It would explain -a number of things,—why "Monsieur" doesn't like Louis to do any work, -and that sort of thing. And probably, too, that's why they would like -him to go back to France and be a statesman, since he can't be a duke or -a marquis and flourish around with the nobility. I suppose it's the next -best thing, in their estimation.</p> - -<p>It might even explain, too, why "Monsieur" expects to make so long a -stay here to get things all straightened out. Oh, I'm so glad I thought -of this! I can hardly wait for to-morrow to come, so that I can tell -Carol. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> I believe I'll even tell the Imp, too. She's been so decent -to me of late that I'm willing to do 'most anything for her.</p> - -<p class="space-above">"Ahoy, girls! Come over and see the big smash!"</p> - -<p>It was the Imp who thus hailed the two girls as they were coming home -from the village one Saturday afternoon early in March. She was one of a -group that was standing in Louis's front yard, and the girls hurried -over to see what it was all about. They found that a fine old -cherry-tree had been half blown over by a high wind the night before, -and now it threatened to fall at the slightest jar. Its fall would do -serious damage to the fence near which it stood. Louis had decided to -chop it down so that it would fall in the opposite direction. It was not -the first time that he had had the experience, and he rather enjoyed the -thought of the task before him. It was quite evident, however, that -"Monsieur" did not at all approve of this scheme. He paced back and -forth on the path, muttering impatiently to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> himself in French and -occasionally urging Louis to be extremely careful.</p> - -<p>As this was the first time that either Sue or Carol had met "Monsieur," -Louis stopped long enough to make the introductions. Monsieur bowed -formally and murmured that he was "charmed to meet mesdemoiselles," but -there his interest in them ended, and he continued to pace back and -forth and mutter to himself.</p> - -<p>Once the Imp poked Sue and whispered:</p> - -<p>"He says, 'Always, always this servant's work!' He's been having a fit -about this ever since they came out. But Louis was determined to get it -done. Monsieur certainly does make him mad and nervous, though."</p> - -<p>The tree was almost ready to topple over, when an unfortunate thing -happened. It may have been that Louis <i>was</i> nervous, or that his foot -slipped on a patch of ice, or that it was a combination of both. At any -rate, just as the ax was raised for one of his most telling blows, he -missed his aim and brought it down directly on his left foot. With a -slight groan, he dropped to the ground. An instant later blood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> began to -pour from the wound in sickening spurts. So sudden had it all been, that -his watchers hardly realized what had happened till the spouting blood -revealed the accident.</p> - -<p>Immediately all was confusion. Monsieur uttered a cry that was almost a -scream and, stooping down, tried to lift Louis in his arms. Miss Yvonne -rushed out, wringing her hands and screaming, too, in her excitable -French fashion. Old Mr. Meadows raised the parlor-window and stood -calling out all sorts of impossible directions, half in French and half -in English. Carol turned as white as a sheet and looked as if she were -going to faint away. She usually did at the sight of blood. Only the Imp -seemed to have any sense left. She called out to Carol:</p> - -<p>"You run to our house and telephone for any doctor you can get, either -in the village or at Bridgeton!"</p> - -<p>Then she said to Monsieur:</p> - -<p>"Please let Louis alone. He'll bleed to death if you lift him that way."</p> - -<p>Lastly she turned to Miss Yvonne:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>"Don't you think that between us we could manage to carry Louis into -the house? I'll hold his poor foot so that it won't bleed so much."</p> - -<p>It was almost absurd to hear that small child giving everybody orders, -but it was rather fine, too. And somehow it restored them to their -senses. Carol went flying off to telephone, only too glad to get away. -Miss Yvonne stopped screaming and lifted Louis in her strong arms, while -Sue held his head and Monsieur his uninjured foot.</p> - -<p>Louis had fainted by this time. The Imp held his injured foot in such a -way that as little blood as possible escaped. Sue admitted later that -she would scarcely have had the nerve to do it, even if she had been -able. She was very much hampered, because her left arm was still in a -sling, so that all she could do was to hold up the boy's head with her -right hand.</p> - -<p>Somehow or other they got Louis into the house. Monsieur insisted that -they carry him up to his (Monsieur's) room, though the others thought it -would have been better to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> take him to his own room on the ground floor. -But Monsieur would have his way, and they got Louis there somehow. By -the time they had laid him in the big brass bed, Carol came flying back -to say that she couldn't reach a single doctor in town. Every one was -out. But she had managed to get a promise from Dr. Langmaid in Bridgeton -that he would come over directly in his car, as soon as he could leave a -serious surgical case that he was treating in his office.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Louis's foot was still bleeding horribly. Something had to be -done at once. Miss Yvonne had got his shoe and stocking off and was -bathing the horrid wound, but that didn't help much. No one but Sue -seemed to know how to stop the bleeding and she was practically helpless -because of her hand. The reason she knew was because she had just -finished a course of "First Aid to the Injured" lectures that had been -given to the Young Girls' Club in school by a trained nurse. Carol -didn't take the course, because she hated all that kind of thing and it -made her sick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> But Sue had enjoyed it. One of the principal things she -had learned was about the tourniquet and bandaging. But how was she to -do anything with only one hand? Suddenly the idea that she could give -the Imp directions and let <i>her</i> do it dawned on Sue. The Imp was so -quick that she would understand in a wink.</p> - -<p>So Sue asked Miss Yvonne if she'd tear up a sheet for some bandages, and -told the Imp that if she'd do as she told her, she thought they could -stop the bleeding. Miss Yvonne went right to work, and the Imp followed -Sue's directions well, while the latter did what she could with one -hand. They used a buttonhook for a tourniquet, and in five minutes -Louis's foot was bandaged roughly and not bleeding any more. Monsieur -had been spending the time in bathing Louis's head and holding ammonia -to his nose. Presently Louis came to and tried to ask what was the -matter. But they made him stop talking, because he was so weak from loss -of blood.</p> - -<p>After that there wasn't anything to do but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> wait for the doctor, so they -sat around the room, not talking and all looking nervous and -embarrassed.</p> - -<p>At last Dr. Langmaid arrived. He came jumping upstairs two steps at a -time. After he had taken one look at Louis's foot, he said:</p> - -<p>"Whoever did that bandaging had good common sense. Perhaps it saved his -life."</p> - -<p>That was all, but it made Sue feel proud for the Imp. The Imp, however, -declared that it was Sue's work, for she would never have known how to -do it herself. At any rate, after that the doctor turned out every one -but Miss Yvonne, and they stayed there with Louis for an age, while all -the rest waited downstairs for news. At last the doctor came down and -told them that Louis had almost severed an artery, but that he had -broken no bones. He sewed up the wound and left directions that Louis -was to stay in bed for some time and have careful attention, lest -blood-poisoning set in. But he said it was a miracle that nothing worse -had happened, and left his compliments for the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> young ladies who did -the bandaging. At which the Imp and Sue pinched each other and took -their departure.</p> - -<p>It was after they had left the house and were walking across the Green -to their own home, their knees still shaking with the excitement they -had experienced, that the Imp remarked:</p> - -<p>"Did you see the queer thing that hung on 'Monsieur's' wall, right -opposite to the bed?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no," answered Sue. "That is, I suppose I did, but I was so nervous -and worried that I can't remember anything about it. I hardly took my -eyes from Louis. What was it, anyway?"</p> - -<p>"Three pictures, but the only one that I could see was the middle one. -It was a life-sized picture of a little boy about six or seven, I should -think. He had big brown eyes and brown wavy hair, and was quite a pretty -little chap, but he was dressed awfully queerly. I guess the picture -must be quite old, for his clothes weren't like anything that's been -worn for years. I wonder why 'Monsieur' carts it around and has it -hanging there. Must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> some relation, I suppose, or some child of whom -he was very fond."</p> - -<p>"But I thought you said his clothes were so queer and old-timey," -suggested Sue. "I imagined from the way you spoke that they must be of a -fashion more than a hundred years old."</p> - -<p>"I guess they were, too," admitted the Imp. "I had thought that perhaps -the boy was a son or a brother, but I guess he was from way before -<i>that</i> time."</p> - -<p>"Must be some famous ancestor, then," said Sue. "By the way, what did -you mean by saying that the boy's picture was the only one you could -see? If the three pictures were all hanging on the wall at the foot of -the bed, you could see the other two just as well, I should think."</p> - -<p>"No, I couldn't; and for a very queer reason," replied the Imp darkly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, for gracious sake, don't begin to tease!" cried Sue impatiently, -suspecting that the Imp was up to one of her usual tricks. "Things have -been so exciting, and you've been such a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> dear, that I hate to have you -spoil it by beginning that 'mysterious' business."</p> - -<p>"But it <i>was</i> mysterious," argued the Imp, "and you'd have seen it for -yourself, if you'd only had your eyes about you."</p> - -<p>"Well, what was it?" sighed Sue. "I'm afraid you're making a whole lot -out of nothing."</p> - -<p>"I'm <i>not</i>!" cried the Imp. "And I'll prove it this minute. I <i>couldn't</i> -see those two other pictures because—they both had a heavy, dark silk -covering of some kind stretched completely over them, frames and all! -<i>Now</i> will you believe me?"</p> - -<p>At this curious bit of information even doubting Sue had to admit that -the Imp was right.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">IN MONSIEUR'S ROOM</span></h2> - -<p>March 8, 1914. I thought the last entries in this journal were pretty -exciting, with two accidents to tell about, but they were just nothing -to what's been happening since. My arm is all right again; no trouble at -all, except for a slight stiffness. So that's all about that. But -<i>Louis</i>!</p> - -<p>For the first two days after his accident he seemed to be doing nicely. -None of us saw him, for the doctor had ordered that he be kept very -quiet. When we went to inquire, Miss Yvonne said he was better and in no -pain, and that he wanted to see us all, but that he must be quiet for a -while. Then, on the third day, her face was very grave.</p> - -<p>"He has fever," she said. "It is not high,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> but the doctor is not -pleased. Louis is restless, and his foot is swollen. We are all anxious -about him."</p> - -<p>I repeated her words to Father, and he said:</p> - -<p>"Poor boy! Blood-poisoning, probably. I'm sorry for him. Was that ax -very rusty?"</p> - -<p>I replied that it was, for I remember that Louis remarked about it at -the time and said he could do better work if the ax was cleaned and was -sharper. Father shook his head and said they'd have to keep a careful -watch on him now.</p> - -<p>Next day matters became worse. From then till this evening we have been -frightfully anxious, and the Meadows' family and Monsieur grew almost -frantic. It was blood-poisoning, and the doctor said it was so bad that -he doubted if he could save Louis's foot. At that, Monsieur sent -post-haste to the city for a famous surgeon, and after days of working -over him Louis is to-night pronounced out of danger. When I went over -this evening to get the news, Miss Yvonne cried when she told me. I -cried, too, and I saw Monsieur coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> downstairs, his eyes suspiciously -moist. What a relief!</p> - -<p>They have had two trained nurses, and one of them will stay till Louis -is much stronger. Miss Yvonne is quite worn out with work and worry, and -she looks like a shadow of herself. Old Mr. Meadows appears to have -grown ten years older in a week, and seems very feeble. As for Monsieur, -in the few glimpses I've had of him he looks as if he hadn't had a wink -of sleep for four days. As a matter of fact, I heard that he hadn't gone -to bed and slept since Louis became so ill,—just napped while sitting -in a chair.</p> - -<p>I haven't slept well myself, and neither has Carol. Even the Imp has -been very much concerned. She continues to be awfully decent to us, but -I wonder how much longer it will last. Not long, I'm pretty sure, after -Louis is well again. I know her too thoroughly to be deceived into -thinking she has turned over a new leaf for good!</p> - -<p>Now for bed and a long, peaceful sleep for the first time in a week!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<p class="space-above">March 13. To-day, for the first time, I have seen Louis. He was much -better, and he wanted to see us so much that Miss Yvonne sent over the -servant to tell us that we three could come over (Dave had gone -yesterday), but that we all had better not see him at once. Carol and -the Imp and I went over. One by one we were allowed to go up to the -room. But we were warned that no one must stay more than five minutes, -and that we mustn't talk to Louis about anything exciting.</p> - -<p>Carol went first, but she didn't stay anywhere near her five minutes, -for I timed her by the parlor clock. It seemed as if she had scarcely -had time to go up and walk into the room before she must have walked out -again. She came down looking awfully solemn and scared, and whispered:</p> - -<p>"He looks awful,—as if he'd been <i>so</i> sick! I was frightened. The -trained nurse was there, and Monsieur, too. I didn't know what on earth -to say, so I didn't stay but a minute."</p> - -<p>Then the Imp went up, and I guess she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> more successful, for she -stayed two minutes over her time. We heard her say, "Hello, old sport!" -as she entered the room, and we even heard a sound like Louis's laugh. -Then there was a great chattering in French, and I knew that she and -Monsieur were talking together. When she came down she said that -Monsieur had been thanking her for what she did on the day of the -accident, and that she had been trying to convince him she hadn't done -anything, except to obey my directions. He wouldn't stand for that, -however, and insisted that she had been the means of saving Louis's -life. Nothing she could say would persuade him differently.</p> - -<p>Then it came my turn, and I went up with my knees shaking, like the -silly goose I am, for there was nothing on earth to be afraid of. But -somehow it always did seem a solemn thing to me to see a person for the -first time after he has been so near to death. But they shook worse when -I got into the room and saw how really awful Louis looked. He is like a -thin shadow of his former self, and <i>so</i> white<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> and hollow-eyed. He's -never been sick before, to any extent, so I never dreamed he could look -like that.</p> - -<p>I murmured something or other to Louis,—I can't remember what,—and -then Monsieur began to thank me in very elaborate and formal English for -what I had done on the day of the accident. I tried to answer that it -wasn't anything, and I could easily see that he didn't think it <i>was</i> so -much, compared to what the Imp had done. But Louis spoke up in the -weakest voice, and declared:</p> - -<p>"Sue is a trump! <i>I</i> know what she did, for I wasn't unconscious <i>all</i> -of the time. Between them they patched me up beautifully."</p> - -<p>But Monsieur wasn't much impressed. It's plain to be seen that the Imp -is <i>his</i> favorite. I don't care a scrap, however, since Louis said what -he did!</p> - -<p>Well, I couldn't think of another thing to say, so I bade Louis good-bye -and took my departure. But before I left the room I snatched a good long -look at those pictures. I've been thinking of them constantly, ever -since that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> first day, and longing to see them. It certainly was queer -to see those two so tightly covered. There's something about the one of -the boy that haunts me, though. I don't know why. Carol and I have -talked it over and over, and we can't make it out. The trouble is that -she practically hasn't seen it at all. That day of the accident she -didn't come into the room, for she was telephoning the doctor. She -didn't want to come in, anyway, because she knew she couldn't stand it. -And to-day she only caught the smallest glimpse of it, because she was -so upset when she came out of the room.</p> - -<p>The nurse says that next time we go to see Louis we can probably stay a -little longer, if he continues to improve.</p> - -<p class="space-above">March 15. We all went in again to-day. Monsieur was not there, to -Carol's and my great relief, but the nurse was. I warned Carol -beforehand to take a good look at the portrait this time, and she did. -She says she feels as I do about it, as if she'd seen it, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> some one -like it, somewhere before. And yet she's <i>sure</i> she hasn't, really. I -don't understand it.</p> - -<p>Louis is beginning to make all sorts of plans about what he will do when -he's well again. He's wild at having to be away from school and lose so -much time, but we've promised to keep all our notes for him, and that -will help a lot when he goes back.</p> - -<p>The Imp has returned to her old tricks again. I knew she would when the -excitement was over. She told me that she met Monsieur on her way to -school this morning, and that she walked all the way to the village with -him. He was going down to get some medicine for Louis. But she startled -me to pieces when she added:</p> - -<p>"I asked him who that nice little boy was whose picture he had in his -room. He said he'd tell me if I'd promise to keep it a secret. I said -that I certainly would, cross my heart."</p> - -<p>"So he told you?" I asked, trying not to act as if I cared a bit.</p> - -<p>"Why, certainly," the Imp answered, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> that wicked gleam in her eye. -"He did as he said he would. I'd be glad to tell you, but, of course, -I've promised not to."</p> - -<p>"Did you ask him why he kept the other two pictures covered?" I -inquired.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I asked him that, too, but he said it was for a reason he couldn't -explain at present."</p> - -<p>The Imp wouldn't have told me if he <i>had</i> explained. I'm positive of -that. And what's more, I simply can't believe that he told her all about -the other one. She can make things sound so mysterious, when there's -really nothing to them at all. However, I can't be certain, even of -this. Maybe he really did explain, though why he should make her promise -not to tell is a puzzle.</p> - -<p>I'm not going to think about it any more just now. It makes me too -furious.</p> - -<p class="space-above">March 22. Such a strange, strange thing happened to-day. Dave went with -me to see Louis this afternoon, for the Imp had to go on an errand to -the village, and Carol was in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> house with another severe cold. Dave -went up first, stayed quite a while, and then went on home.</p> - -<p>Miss Yvonne took me up and told me that the nurse was out for the -afternoon, and that Monsieur was lying down in Louis's room. So, for the -first time since his accident, I actually saw Louis without a lot of -other people in the room. We chatted for a while about school matters -and what we had all been doing while he was laid up. And Louis told me -how much better he was, how he was soon going to be allowed to get up, -and that the nurse was going in a few days. After that we were both -quiet for a few moments. It was one of those pauses that sometimes come -in conversation, which get so prolonged that you hardly know how to -break them. Then, just to end the silence, I asked Louis why Monsieur -had insisted on his being in this room, and how inconvenient it must -have been for Monsieur. To my surprise, Louis became much excited and -said:</p> - -<p>"I can't think whatever made him do it that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> day! <i>I</i> didn't want to be -here. I'm horribly uncomfortable about it all the time. I <i>hate</i> it! It -would have been so much more sensible to have put me in my own room on -the ground floor. And, Sue, what do you think?" Here Louis sank his -voice to a whisper. "I came to myself one day, out of a sort of stupor -that I'd been in, and found him kneeling by the side of the bed and -actually <i>kissing my hand</i>! I was so astonished and disgusted that I -snatched it away, weak as I was. He never said a word, but rose and -walked out of the room. What does it all mean?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure I don't know, Louis," I replied; "but tell me, do you know -anything about those portraits that hang on the wall opposite your bed? -Why are two covered up, and who is that boy in the middle?"</p> - -<p>To my astonishment, Louis seized hold of my arm and whispered:</p> - -<p>"Sue, Sue, I hate those pictures. I hate that one in the middle. I'm -<i>afraid</i> of it! I—"</p> - -<p>Before he could say any more we heard Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Yvonne coming up the stairs -to tell me that my time was up and that Louis must rest. And so he -couldn't go on.</p> - -<p>But why, <i>why</i> does Louis hate the picture of that boy, and why, above -all things, is he afraid of it? Was there ever so curious a mystery?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">THE IMP MAKES A DISCOVERY</span></h2> - -<p>Despite the fact that Sue and Carol boiled with impatience for over a -week, conjecturing what it could possibly be that made Louis afraid of -the picture in Monsieur's room, they found out nothing new on the -subject, for the simple reason that there was never a moment when they -again saw him alone. To ask him about it when others were in the room -was impossible. Two days after Sue's last visit he was allowed to sit -up, and a day or two after that he was permitted to walk about for a few -steps. Then the nurse took her leave, and Louis insisted on returning to -his own room on the ground floor.</p> - -<p>"And only to think," sighed Sue, when she heard of it, "now we'll -probably never see those strange pictures on Monsieur's wall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> again. I -could cry with vexation when I think of it. Carol, do you feel as if -there were something terribly mysterious about them,—not only the two -covered ones, but the boy's, also? I wonder if it haunts you the same as -it does me?"</p> - -<p>"It certainly does," admitted Carol, "and yesterday I wrote a little -poem about it. Here it is. What do you think of it?"</p> - -<p>She handed Sue a scrap of paper on which the verses were written. The -two girls had dropped off the trolley on their way home from high -school, and were bound for the library. Sue took the paper and studied -it carefully as she walked.</p> - -<p>"I like it a lot," she acknowledged, as she handed it back. "Especially -those last two lines:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>'O boy of nut-brown hair and smiling eyes,</div> -<div>Speak out and tell the secret that you know.'</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Really, it's awfully pretty and the best thing you've done yet. Why -don't you show it to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> Miss Cullingford. It hasn't any direct reference -to Louis's affairs in it, and I'll warrant she'd recommend it to be -published in our high school paper, <i>The Argus</i>."</p> - -<p>"Well, perhaps I will," agreed Carol, visibly pleased with Sue's -unstinted praise. She folded the paper back into a book as they went up -the steps of the library.</p> - -<p>It was while the two were wandering round the big, sunny room, scanning -the shelves for an interesting book, that they made a startling -discovery.</p> - -<p>"Will you look at that!" whispered Carol, suddenly pinching Sue as they -were passing the door of the smaller reference room, a spot they -themselves seldom entered. There, near a shelf of immense volumes, -stood—who but the Imp! She was deeply engrossed in the pages of a tome -nearly as large as herself. The sight was the more amazing because the -Imp was neither a member of the library, so far as they knew, nor did -she ever enter it, if she could help it, except rarely to get a book for -the girls.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p><p>The two stood rooted to the spot with astonishment. Suddenly the Imp -caught sight of them. She promptly closed the book and slipped it back -on the shelf. All she would admit in reply to what she felt to be their -intrusive inquiries was the statement:</p> - -<p>"I'm looking up something on the advice of Miss Hastings. I guess I -don't have to explain everything to you." After which remark she marched -majestically out of the room.</p> - -<p>The girls tried to guess from the shelf where she had stood what book -she had been consulting, but as it was a long row of encyclopedias, all -exactly alike, they could not glean the least inkling. Giving up that -course, they questioned the librarian on the way out, and found that the -Imp had joined the library several days before.</p> - -<p>"Did you ever know anything to beat it?" demanded Sue, as they passed -down the steps. "What can she be up to? I know she's awfully bright and -reads lots of books that interest grown-folks, but she's so lazy about -things and so crazy just to be outdoors that she never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> thought it worth -while to join the library before."</p> - -<p>"She said," Carol reminded her, "that her teacher, Miss Hastings, -advised her to look up something. You know she always tells the truth, -at least."</p> - -<p>"That's true," admitted Sue, "but it must be something out of the -ordinary, or she would simply have come to us and bribed us to go and do -it for her. And besides, in her class they don't have to look up things -in encyclopedias; they haven't got to that yet. No, I'm certain it's -something else."</p> - -<p>Wondering about the Imp's strange behavior, they harked back, as they -walked homeward, to that other subject that was constantly puzzling -them.</p> - -<p>"Do you know," said Carol, "I believe that I've come to agree with you -in your theory about Louis and Monsieur. You know I didn't when you -first told me, because I was awfully disappointed about his not being a -count or a duke. But now I think that you're right. Monsieur is probably -the family <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>lawyer, and Louis is going to inherit a big French fortune. -But if that is the case, why is it that Monsieur seems to be trying so -hard to make Louis like him? You remember, Louis said the other day that -he constantly feels as if Monsieur were doing everything in his power to -win his affection, for some reason or other. If he were only a family -lawyer, he wouldn't care a penny whether Louis liked him or not. And why -was he kissing his hand the other day? I'm half-inclined to believe that -he's some relative—a grandfather or an uncle or something. Yet he could -scarcely be that, and the lawyer, too. Isn't it a puzzle?"</p> - -<p>"But don't you remember that Miss Yvonne told Louis he wasn't any -relative?" Sue reminded her; "only an old friend of the family."</p> - -<p>"Susette," remarked Carol solemnly, stopping stock still in the middle -of the road, "you may call me all kinds of an idiot if you like, but I -want to tell you one thing. I've been feeling lately that there's some -mystery here, bigger than anything you or I imagine. It's just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> a -feeling I have, but it haunts me continually. I'm <i>certain</i> something is -going to happen that will make us gasp with astonishment. And when that -does happen, I want you to remind me of what I've said to-day. I'm sure -I'm right. I feel it in my very bones, as Aunt Agatha often says."</p> - -<p>And Sue, much impressed, as solemnly promised to remind her.</p> - -<p class="space-above">March 27. There's something that the Imp is up to,—something that she -has discovered. I'm as certain of it as I am that my name is Susette -Birdsey. The reason I know this is because of what happened to-day.</p> - -<p>Carol and I had gone down this afternoon to Anita Brown's to go over -some English history with her for an exam we're going to have in a day -or two. Anita is great on history, and somehow can make it seem so -simple and sensible and easy to remember. I don't know how she does it, -but we always like to study that subject with her and get her to explain -all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> about the succession of kings and what relation they were to each -other. She has the knack of making them seem like real people.</p> - -<p>Well, we had stopped at her house on the way from high school, so we -hadn't been home this afternoon. About half-past four we left, and -happened to come out of her gate just a little behind two people who -were walking up the road. (Anita lives about half-way between our house -and the village.) It didn't take us an instant to recognize those two -people as Monsieur and the Imp. Carol was all for hurrying along to join -them, but I said no, we might just as well keep to ourselves, for they -probably didn't care for our company, anyway. So we kept on behind them, -and they were talking so fast and hard that they didn't even notice us.</p> - -<p>Presently the Imp did a queer thing. She opened her school-bag, took out -a book—it wasn't a school-book, either!—opened it at a certain page, -and showed something to Monsieur. Whatever it was, it had the strangest -effect on him. He gave one look at the page,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> then stopped stock still -in the road and stared at the Imp, making a queer sound in his throat, -as if he were trying to clear it and didn't succeed very well. Then he -said something in French that we caught the sound of but couldn't -understand. But the Imp was evidently so excited that she forgot to -speak French, for we heard her say in English:</p> - -<p>"Then I'm right, Monsieur? It's the same? I was sure it was."</p> - -<p>And he answered:</p> - -<p>"<i>Oui, oui, petite mademoiselle!</i>" (I know enough French to translate -this as "Yes, yes.")</p> - -<p>After that the Imp went right on to chatter in French. But by this time -we'd made up our minds that it was high time <i>we</i> were let in to that -little secret, so we hurried to catch up with them. But the Imp saw us -too quickly. She shut the book, slipped it back in her school-bag, and -by the time we had joined them they were conversing sedately in English -about the weather.</p> - -<p>When we reached our own gate the Imp went off about her own devices, -with never a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> word about the queer performance on the street. But Carol -and I made up our mind that we'd take a peep at that book in her -school-bag when she wasn't around. So when she had gone upstairs for a -while, we opened the school-bag that she had flung down on the couch in -the living-room.</p> - -<p>But when did we ever manage to get ahead of the Imp? She had carefully -removed that book, and it was nowhere to be found. I remember noticing -that it was a thick book with a light green cover, and there was nothing -even faintly resembling it anywhere about, so far as we could discover. -What she could have done with it, or when she could have taken it out -without our notice, beats me. Leave it to the Imp, however, to -accomplish that sort of trick.</p> - -<p>Of course we plainly saw that there was nothing we could do, except to -question her, and we debated the longest time about whether to do so or -not. It's such a hopeless performance, if the Imp has made up her mind -beforehand that you're not going to find out anything from her. Carol -suggested that we ask<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> her right out what she had discovered that -Monsieur was so interested in. I told her there was only one kind of -answer to expect to <i>that</i>, so what on earth was the use?</p> - -<p>I thought I had a better scheme. The Imp has been wild for a long time -to have a fountain-pen like the one I bought in Bridgeton two months ago -for a dollar. I was going to save up and give her one for her birthday. -But that's a long way off yet. So I suggested to Carol that I offer to -let the Imp have mine, and then buy a new one with the dollar Uncle Ben -gave me at Christmas. She said it was an awful waste of a good pen, and -might not accomplish what we wanted, anyway, but that I could try it if -I liked.</p> - -<p>So a little later, when the Imp came in where we were studying, I began -on the subject, but very carefully, so that she wouldn't suspect -something right at the start and spoil everything. After she had settled -herself to read—it was <i>my</i> book, by the way!—I began thus:</p> - -<p>"You and Monsieur seemed to be having a nice time while you were coming -up the road<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> this afternoon. Does he think you talk good French?"</p> - -<p>The Imp glanced at me warily, but replied in an amiable manner:</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes. He says I'm the only person he's met in America, except Louis -and his folks, who speaks it with a decent accent."</p> - -<p>Then she went on reading. It was plain that <i>she</i> wasn't going to give -us any opening, if she could help it.</p> - -<p>"Do you always talk to him in French?" I went on cautiously.</p> - -<p>"Yes, always. He likes it best," she answered, without looking up again.</p> - -<p>"But we heard you say something to him in English this afternoon," I -ventured, for I had a scheme as to just how I was going to trap her. For -a wonder, she fell into it.</p> - -<p>"I didn't! I don't remember saying a word in English."</p> - -<p>This was just what I had thought. She was so excited at the time that -she <i>hadn't</i> remembered.</p> - -<p>"Oh, but you <i>did</i>!" broke in Carol. "We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> heard you say: 'Then I'm -right? It is the same? I was sure it was.'"</p> - -<p>"You horrid things!" burst out the Imp. "Always tracking me around and -eavesdropping! You once accused <i>me</i> of that, but I think the tables are -turned now."</p> - -<p>"Look here," I said, and I felt downright mad, "you know perfectly well -we weren't doing anything of the kind. We happened to come out of -Anita's house right behind you, and we refrained from joining you at -first because we knew you didn't want us. We couldn't help it if you -talked so loud that we could hear what you said."</p> - -<p>She calmed down at that, and I seized the advantage and determined on a -bold stroke.</p> - -<p>"Bobs dear," I said, in as friendly a way as I could, "we know you've -discovered something about Monsieur or Louis or some one from what you -said and did this afternoon. Won't you tell us about it, too? You know -we're awfully interested. And just to show you that we only mean to be -friendly, I'll give you that new fountain-pen of mine, if you care<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> to -have it. I don't mean it as a bribe, but only to make you feel that we -aren't really hateful."</p> - -<p>At this her eyes fairly sparkled for a moment. Then she shook her head.</p> - -<p>"I can't do it, girls, much as I'm crazy to have that pen. Honest, I -can't. I'm not teasing you about it this time, either. I really <i>have</i> -discovered something quite important, and it just happened by accident, -too. But Monsieur was so upset about it, and asked me so politely not to -say anything to any one, that I just feel it wouldn't be right. I think -I took him terribly by surprise. I don't know what it all means yet -myself. There's something awfully mysterious about things over at -Louis's. And really, you've been so decent to me lately that I'd tell -you if I could, even without the pen."</p> - -<p>Well, that was too much for me. I knew she meant every word she said, -and I could understand, too, why she felt she couldn't tell us. So I -just gave her the pen, anyway, and she was so happy and grateful. She -said:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>"It's all right, girls. You're trumps! And I'll do something for you -yet, never you fear."</p> - -<p>But only to think that it was the Imp who made the first real, important -discovery about this mystery! Well, things do happen queerly. I wonder -what in the world she can have discovered?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE PORTRAIT OF MYSTERY</span></h2> - -<p>It was well into April before Louis came back to school, looking a -trifle thin and pale, but otherwise not impaired by his serious -accident. Carol and Sue traveled back and forth with him on the trolley -several times, but never once picked up courage to ask him the question, -the answer to which they were burning to know,—why had he been afraid -of the strange portrait in Monsieur's room?</p> - -<p>It was not till one evening when he had come over to see Dave that the -subject was broached. Dave was detained out in the barn, helping his -father with a sick farm-horse, and while they were waiting for him in -the living-room the talk drifted to Monsieur and his devoted kindness -during Louis's illness.</p> - -<p>"He simply couldn't do enough for me," the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> boy asserted. "Beginning -with his insisting on my having his room, he loaded me with delicacies -and attentions of every sort the whole time. I began by quite despising -him, but he's been so jolly good to me that I've just <i>got</i> to like him, -whether or no! Honestly, it's almost pathetic sometimes, he tries so -hard. I feel like a brute if I don't respond in just the way he wants me -to. He's stopped talking about all the things he knows I don't care for, -and even stands for my talking about mechanical engineering and that -sort of thing. And that's going some for <i>him</i>!"</p> - -<p>"Louis," ventured Sue, a little timidly, "do you mind telling us now why -you hated and were afraid of that portrait? You were going to tell me -that day, if you remember, when we were interrupted."</p> - -<p>The boy looked hesitant for a moment. Then he replied:</p> - -<p>"I believe I might as well. It can't hurt any one that I can see. I've -had the most peculiar feeling about that picture ever since my accident. -Before that I'd seen it, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> course, but had never thought much about -it, and those two others that are covered I only thought were just -another eccentricity of Monsieur's. He's awfully eccentric, anyway, -about a number of things. But after I landed in that room with my -chopped foot, and had to stay there when I didn't want to and lie -staring day and night at that picture at the foot of my bed, first I -began to hate it and then I actually became afraid of it. You'll hardly -believe me, girls, when I tell you that I covered up my head with the -bedclothes at times, when I was alone in the room, so that I wouldn't -have to look at it."</p> - -<p>"But <i>why</i>?" interrupted Carol. "What was strange about it?"</p> - -<p>"Well," Louis answered, "it's not so much that there's anything strange -about the picture <i>itself</i>; it's more the way it made me feel and the -way Monsieur acted about it and—well, a dream I had about it one -night."</p> - -<p>"A <i>dream</i>?" the girls exclaimed. "What was it?"</p> - -<p>"I'll get to that presently," he said. "But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> first I want to tell you -what Monsieur said about it. A day or two after I was taken to that room -I asked him whose portrait it was. He said he would tell me all about it -some time, but that all he could say at present was that the child had -been one of the world's heroic martyrs. That, of course, didn't give -<i>me</i> much information, but it made me a little more interested, and I -used to lie and stare at it by the hour, wondering how in the world a -youngster of six or seven could have been what he said.</p> - -<p>"Then came the time when I took that turn for the worse, and they -thought it was all up with me. I had a terrible fever and was delirious, -too, I guess. And that wretched picture haunted me the whole time. -Sometimes it seemed to be coming toward me rapidly, growing larger and -larger, and the eyes would glow like balls of fire. I used to scream out -loud, because it somehow seemed as if it would wrap itself round me and -crush me. Then it would seem to retreat way off where I could hardly see -it, and almost disappear through the wall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> At other times it would turn -over, hang upside down, and cut up all sorts of antics. And all the time -I couldn't seem to take my eyes from it.</p> - -<p>"The last night that I was so very ill I had an awful dream about it. I -thought that suddenly I looked at it, and a queer change had happened to -the whole thing. Instead of the youngster being dressed up in that natty -little silk coat with lace frills at his neck and wrists and the -jewelled star on his chest and the little riding-whip, his clothes were -all queer and ragged. He had a bright red cap of some kind on his head, -and his hair was matted and tangled. Instead of being plump and smiling, -he was thin and half-starved looking, and the tears were running down -his cheeks. And while I looked, he suddenly held out his arms to me, as -if for help. I felt as if I must get right out of bed and give him some -assistance,—I simply <i>must</i>. And I guess I tried, too, for I remember -the nurses held me down. Even after I was much better, I couldn't seem -to get over the horror of that dream. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> hated to look at the picture -after that, for fear I'd see it again the same way."</p> - -<p>"But you also said," Sue reminded him, "that Monsieur acted queerly -about the picture, too. What did he do?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, that's another thing," added Louis. "He used to stand in front -of it the longest time, gazing at it as steadily as if it were the most -wonderful thing on earth. Next he would turn and stare at me, and then -look back again at the picture, till I could have yelled, it made me so -nervous. It was mostly when he thought I was asleep or in a stupor, but -I wasn't either one of those things half as much as they thought I was. -Once he came and stood over me, after I had had my eyes shut for a long -time, and I heard him muttering something about 'the temple look,' -whatever he could have meant by that. It all seemed horribly uncanny. I -didn't like it at all. I never was so glad of anything in my life as to -get out of that place and back to my own room at last."</p> - -<p>"But, Louis," began Carol, in an awed tone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> "whatever do you suppose -caused you to have that queer dream? It's one of the queerest things I -ever heard. Did Monsieur ever say anything to you about the picture that -would make you think of a thing like that?"</p> - -<p>"Not a single thing," declared the boy stoutly, "except what he said -about the 'heroic martyr' business, and I can't believe I would have -made up the rest out of my head. It's singular—"</p> - -<p>At this moment, however, Dave came in, and the conversation shifted to -other topics.</p> - -<p class="space-above">April 8. Carol and I debated a long while as to whether it would be a -good idea to tell the Imp what Louis had told us last night. At first -Carol was shocked at the idea of such a thing, and she looked at me as -though I'd proposed to dynamite her house. But I reminded her that the -Imp had been awfully amiable to us of late, and really it mightn't be -such a bad scheme to let her into this, especially as she had some -inside information of her own that some time she might be able to give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> -us the benefit of. This settled Carol's doubts, so to-day we told the -Imp.</p> - -<p>When we came to the part about Louis's dream, she grabbed my arm and -said:</p> - -<p>"Are you making this up, or is it really true?" I never saw her so -excited before.</p> - -<p>"Of course it's true!" I said. "It's just exactly what Louis told us."</p> - -<p>"Then it's the queerest thing I ever heard of," she exclaimed. "O girls, -I wish I could tell you what I know! You'd be so startled that you'd -jump out of your boots. If only Monsieur hadn't asked me not to mention -it to any one!"</p> - -<p>"Haven't you even told Louis?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No. Monsieur particularly asked me not to speak of it to Louis. He -asked me to promise him that I would not, and he seemed <i>so</i> upset about -it. But I think I know why now. I've tracked down a whole heap of things -lately. Some time I'll let you two in on it, if I can do so without -breaking any promises."</p> - -<p>The Imp can be a trump when she wants to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> be. I wonder if we have -<i>permanently</i> got on the right side of her at last?</p> - -<p>To-day I persuaded Carol to show her poem, "The Mysterious Portrait," to -Miss Cullingford. She only agreed to do so for this reason. Our paper, -<i>The Argus</i>, is offering a prize of five dollars for the best poem -handed in by any member of the freshman class. I don't believe there's -another one who can write as well as Carol, and this is her best piece -of work. So at last she consented to let Miss Cullingford criticize it -for her, before she submits it to the contest committee. I'm just crazy -to have Carol get the prize.</p> - -<p>She says Miss Cullingford took it and read it over,—it's not very -long,—and then began to ask her some questions about it. They were -principally about where she'd seen this portrait. Carol told her it was -in the house of a friend, but didn't say anything that would give Miss -Cullingford any clue as to where it really was. Miss Cullingford told -her that the poem was very good, and asked her to describe the portrait -to her a little more in detail. Carol<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> did this as well as she could -from memory. At last Miss Cullingford told Carol to leave the verses -with her for a day or two, as she would like to consider them at her -leisure. It looks rather promising for Carol, I think.</p> - -<p class="space-above">April 9. Another awfully strange thing happened to-day. Our last hour -for the day was English literature, and when it was over Miss -Cullingford asked Carol to come to her after dismissal, as she wanted to -talk to her a while about her poem. So Carol went to her room, but I -didn't wait, because I was anxious to get home and help Mother with a -new dress she's been making for me. I told Carol that I'd watch out for -her when she came home, and run out to the gate to hear what Miss -Cullingford had said about the poem. Carol said she wouldn't have but a -minute to spare, because her mother and her Aunt Agatha were going to -take her to dinner with some friends at Bridgeton, and so would be -anxious for her to hurry and dress so they could catch the four o'clock -trolley.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>I went home by myself and sewed hard for an hour or so. About five -minutes of four Carol came rushing up the road and dashed in at her -gate, late as usual. I grabbed up my coat, and hurried out to catch her -before she went into the house. She was breathless with running, and her -eyes had the wildest look. I thought it was because she was so late, but -she panted out:</p> - -<p>"O Susette! I'd give <i>anything</i> if I only had the time to talk, but -Mother and Aunt Agatha will be wild at me, as it is. I'm <i>so</i> late! But -what do you think? You'll never guess. I've found out <i>whose portrait -that is in Monsieur's room</i>!"</p> - -<p>I was simply stunned.</p> - -<p>"I don't believe you!" I cried. "This is just a trick. You can't catch -me that way."</p> - -<p>"No, no! It isn't a trick. It's <i>true</i>!" she panted. "You'll have to -wait till to-morrow. I'll tell you all about it then." And she was gone -into the house without another word.</p> - -<p>This is simply <i>horrible</i>. Can I <i>ever</i> wait till to-morrow?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IX</span> <span class="smaller">CAROL MAKES A DISCOVERY OF HER OWN</span></h2> - -<p>To Sue, the night that followed seemed endless. The mere idea that Carol -had actually discovered something, and then hadn't even had a chance to -give her the faintest inkling about it, was enough to keep her from a -wink of sleep. But dawn came at last, and with the first light she was -up and dressing frantically. If she had thought of it, she might have -known that her chum would not be about for the next three hours. -Breakfast on that day was only an empty form, and no sooner was it over -than Sue snatched up her books and rushed madly from the house, much to -the amazement of the rest of her family.</p> - -<p>Never doubting that she would hear the whole story from Carol as they -walked to the village, she was filled with despair when she found that -Carol's Aunt Agatha proposed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> walk down with them, in order that they -might assist her to carry a heavy basket of things she was taking to -some sick woman in the village. Aunt Agatha's progress was slow, and to -Sue's agonized signals Carol could only shake her head and dumbly -signify that her friend must wait till later for revelations.</p> - -<p>But even this was not the end. Also waiting for the trolley was Louis.</p> - -<p>"Do you mind telling him, too?" whispered Sue.</p> - -<p>"I'd rather not," returned Carol. "I really don't think I ought to yet!"</p> - -<p>This only added to the mystery. Louis wondered much at their -unresponsiveness that morning, and, in fact, during all the school day -and the returning trip that afternoon. For not another moment offered -itself as entirely suitable to the tale that Carol was to unfold. Once -they had reached the Green, however, Louis betook himself about his own -affairs, and the two girls were left alone with their secret.</p> - -<p>"Come up to the den in our barn," said Carol. "That's where I want to -tell you."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"But it'll be cold," objected Sue. "Can't you come into the house?"</p> - -<p>"No. I don't want to be interrupted, and I've something to show you," -insisted Carol darkly.</p> - -<p>Consumed with wonder, Sue obediently followed her up the hay-loft -ladder, and they locked themselves into the chilly, hay-scented den.</p> - -<p>"Now do begin at once!" exclaimed Sue. "I never spent such an awful, -maddening day of suspense in my life. Don't wait a minute!"</p> - -<p>"I'm just as crazy to tell you as you are to hear it," responded Carol. -"Do you think <i>I</i> haven't been boiling with impatience all day? Well, -here goes! Susette, it's the queerest thing in the world, the way I -happened across this. It's all through Miss Cullingford. That day, after -I'd described the picture to her as well as I could, I remember that she -looked puzzled and said, 'That somehow sounds familiar to me.' But I -didn't think anything of the remark at the time, because I was too -interested in what she was going to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> about my poem, and I soon -forgot it. But yesterday, when I went to her after school, she asked me -if I'd recognize the picture if I saw it again, and I said that of -course I would. Then she suddenly drew a book out of her desk and opened -it at a certain page. And, Sue, will you believe me when I tell you? -There was a copy of that <i>very same picture</i>, right before my eyes!"</p> - -<p>"Well, for goodness sake, tell me who it was, or I'll die of curiosity!" -cried Sue impatiently.</p> - -<p>"That's just what I don't know," Carol answered. "But I have the book -here. It belongs to Miss Cullingford, and she offered to lend it to me. -Of course, when I saw it, I acted surprised, but not half as much so as -I felt, because I didn't want to have to tell her anything about Louis. -I only said that it seemed to be the same picture, and she said it must -have been some copy that I'd seen, for the portrait was a famous one, -painted by a famous artist. Then she went on to criticize my poem, and -made one or two suggestions about some little changes in it. She said -that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> if I made them, she thought the poem stood a fair chance of -winning the prize. Then she offered to lend me the book to take home and -read, because she thought I might be interested in it. She little knew -how <i>desperately</i> interested I was! But come! Let's look at it for -ourselves, and see if we can find out anything we'd like to know."</p> - -<p>Carol took the book out of a desk where she had locked it, and opened it -at a certain page. And there, staring right up at them, was the selfsame -picture that hung in Monsieur's room,—the "boy of nut-brown hair and -smiling eyes." Only of course the picture was in black and white, not -colored as in the oil-painting. But it was the <i>same</i>; you couldn't -mistake it. And underneath the portrait it said, "The Dauphin of -France."</p> - -<p>"Carol," said Sue, after she'd read it, "will you tell me what on earth -a 'dauphin' is?"</p> - -<p>"I haven't the faintest idea," answered the other. "I never heard the -word before, and I haven't had a chance to look it up anywhere. It looks -something like the word 'dolphin.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> Perhaps it's the French for it. And -yet I don't think that is likely. A dolphin is some kind of a -sea-creature, like a porpoise, isn't it? So it <i>couldn't</i> have any such -meaning here."</p> - -<p>"But what is this book?" asked Sue.</p> - -<p>They looked at the title, and it was, "Memoirs of Madame Lebrun." Carol -said that Miss Cullingford had told her that it was an account of the -life of a famous French artist and of the pictures she had painted. As -that didn't give them any special help, they turned the pages eagerly, -but couldn't seem to find out a thing about this particular picture that -interested them.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," said Carol. "I'll run into the house and look up the -word in our big dictionary. Maybe I can find it there."</p> - -<p>She came flying back after a few moments, all excitement, panting:</p> - -<p>"It <i>was</i> there! I didn't dare hope it would be. It gave a whole lot -about how the word originated. We weren't so far off the track when we -thought of 'dolphin.' It <i>did</i> come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> from that! But anyhow, the -principal meaning was, 'The eldest son of the King of France. The heir -to the throne.' It also says that there isn't any such title in France -now."</p> - -<p>After that they just sat and stared at the picture in silent amazement. -What in the world could it all mean? If they'd been confused before, -they were now more muddled than ever. Suddenly an idea occurred to Sue.</p> - -<p>"Which dauphin do you suppose it was?" she questioned. "There must have -been a lot of them."</p> - -<p>"Maybe we could find out if we read the book through," suggested Carol -helplessly.</p> - -<p>The task, indeed, appeared herculean. Neither of the girls were in the -least interested in memoirs, or in any other literature of that "dull" -class. Both had frequently acknowledged that only stories of adventure -and mystery and excitement contained the least interest for them. There -seemed, however, no other way out of this tangle.</p> - -<p>"Well, all right! If we must, we must, I suppose," said Sue. "I'd -attempt 'most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>anything for the sake of solving this mystery. Suppose we -read it aloud, turn and turn about. But for goodness sake, don't let's -try to do it up here. We'll freeze. What if people <i>do</i> see us with it? -They'll probably only think we're reading it for study. The Imp might -suspect something, but she—"</p> - -<p>Suddenly Carol interrupted with:</p> - -<p>"See here! Why not <i>tell the Imp</i>? She's evidently found out a lot of -things on her own hook, and she even said she might tell us about them -some time, if she could. Perhaps we've got ahead of her on this. I'd -just enjoy getting ahead of her for once! Let's tell her and see what -happens."</p> - -<p>It was now Sue's turn to demur. Carol was so insistent, however, that -she finally gave a reluctant consent, and they went out to hunt up the -Imp. A little triumphantly Sue led her younger sister up to the loft, -and with just a touch of patronage she promised her the surprise of her -life when she got there. But to their intense chagrin, the two girls -found, as they had discovered many times before, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> they had, so to -speak, to get up very early in the morning to get ahead of the Imp.</p> - -<p>"Look!" cried Carol, exhibiting the picture. "What do you think of -that?"</p> - -<p>The Imp gave it only one disdainful glance.</p> - -<p>"Huh!" she sniffed. "Aren't you a little late in the day? I discovered -the same thing about a month ago in the same book, or in one just like -it!"</p> - -<p>The two sat staring at her in stunned silence. Then Carol glanced at the -book.</p> - -<p>"It's so, Sue," she murmured. "It's the very same kind of a book that we -saw her showing to Monsieur that day. Look at the light green cover."</p> - -<p>It was indeed the same! But the Imp had had her triumph and now could -afford to be magnanimous.</p> - -<p>"Since you've discovered the same thing," she said, "I'll tell you how -<i>I</i> happened to come across it. Our teacher, Miss Hastings, recently -brought and hung up in the schoolroom some pretty new pictures. One that -I liked very much was called 'The Girl with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> Muff.' One day I asked -Miss Hastings something about it, and she told me who the artist was and -said there was a book in the library about her, with pictures of her -other paintings in it. Next day she brought the book to school and let -me look at it. And, girls, it was this book, or one like it, and while I -was looking it over I almost jumped out of my shoes to come across this -very picture. I didn't say a word about it, though, but just went and -joined the library and got the book out and read it all."</p> - -<p>"And did you find out who this dauphin was?" Sue asked breathlessly.</p> - -<p>"I certainly did," answered the Imp, "and a whole lot more besides."</p> - -<p>"Well, who <i>was</i> he, then?"</p> - -<p>"I wonder if I ought to tell you?" said the Imp reflectively. "You see I -promised Monsieur I wouldn't say anything about what I had discovered. -As you can guess now, I showed it to him, and it quite took him off his -feet with surprise. He begged me to say nothing about it to any one."</p> - -<p>"Look here!" exclaimed Sue suddenly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> "You told us once, quite a long -while ago, that you asked Monsieur one day who the picture of the 'nice -little boy' in his room was, and that he told you then. So how could he -be surprised when you found it out later?"</p> - -<p>Sue thought she'd surely caught the Imp <i>that</i> time. But the other only -laughed.</p> - -<p>"He only told me just what you said he told Louis—that it was one of -the world's 'heroic martyrs.' I was teasing you girls into thinking I -knew it all. You'd been pretty hateful to me just around that time."</p> - -<p>"I thought as much!" said Sue. "But we'll forgive you now, if you'll -tell us what you know. There can't be any harm in it, since we've -discovered just what you have."</p> - -<p>But the Imp wouldn't have been herself, if she had acted in a way like -ordinary folks. She stood and thought it over for a moment, keeping them -on tenter-hooks all the time. Then she remarked:</p> - -<p>"No, I don't honestly think it would be keeping my promise, if I said a -word to you about it. I'm going to keep <i>that</i>, whatever else I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> do. But -I'll open the book at one picture before I go, and that's all the hint -I'm going to give you." She took the book and laid it open at a certain -place, and then dashed down the stairs before they had time to say -another word.</p> - -<p>The two girls almost fell over each other in their hurry to see what the -picture was. It was a beautiful woman, and underneath it were the words, -"Marie Antoinette."</p> - -<p>"What in the world has <i>she</i> got to do with it?" demanded Sue. "Of -course we all know who <i>she</i> was. Didn't she get killed, or something, -in the French Revolution? But what has that to do with this dauphin?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps she was some relation," suggested Carol. "If she was the queen, -maybe he was her son?"</p> - -<p>"Tell you what!" Sue interrupted. "Let's go to the library to-morrow and -hunt up some book on the French Revolution, or some other French -history, and see if we can clear this thing up. I'm not going to wade -through <i>this</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> book. It doesn't seem to say a thing about what we want -to know."</p> - -<p>Carol agreed that this seemed the best course to pursue. Plainly, it -would be useless to consult "Madame Lebrun" any further. They took the -green book that had given them its startling revelation and hid it -safely in the desk. Then they turned to go. Suddenly Carol faced her -friend.</p> - -<p>"Susette Birdsey, what do you make of all this, anyway? What has it to -do with Monsieur and—with Louis?"</p> - -<p>"I'm as much at sea as ever," admitted Sue.</p> - -<p>"Well, you remember what I told you the other day," remarked Carol -impressively. "There's more here than we have ever dreamed. I'm more -firmly convinced of <i>that</i> than ever!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER X</span> <span class="smaller">JOTTINGS FROM THE JOURNAL</span></h2> - -<p>April 12, 1914. Well, we've found out all about that dauphin, and an -exhausting piece of work it was. I never waded through so much history -before in all my life. If the Imp hadn't given us that hint, though, it -would have been far worse, for we wouldn't have had the least idea where -to begin.</p> - -<p>We went to the library this morning and spent till lunch-time there, and -then went back again this afternoon. As it was the Easter holidays, we -fortunately had all the time to spend on it that we wanted. But I must -tell all about what we've discovered. Some of it is very, very -confusing. We can't understand what it can possibly have to do with -Louis, and yet there are things about it that make us sure that it -somehow has <i>something</i> to do with him.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>To begin with, there isn't a shadow of doubt that this portrait is of -the dauphin who was the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, king and -queen of France around the time of the French Revolution. They seemed to -be having a pretty mixed up and bloody time in France just about that -period, and everybody had it in for the royal family and all the -nobility. The common people somehow got control of things, and first -they put the king and queen and dauphin and his sister in prison, and -then they killed the king and queen. The dauphin was a little boy of six -or seven at the time, and they didn't kill him, but kept him a prisoner -for three years in a place called the Temple Tower, till finally he died -of neglect. I think it said that he died in 1795.</p> - -<p>It just made us wild to read about how shamefully they treated that poor -little fellow. They gave him in charge of a horrible, cruel cobbler, -named Simon, who beat and ill-used him abominably,—just because he -happened to be the child of a king,—and then afterward they shut him up -in a room by himself, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> he never saw a single soul for six months, -and handed him his food as they would to a dog in a kennel. At the end -of that time they appeared to be a bit sorry for the way they'd acted, -and let him come out into a decent room and tried to take a little -better care of him. But it was too late, for he died soon afterward,—as -I should think he would after standing that kind of treatment for three -years.</p> - -<p>Carol and I got so worked up over the thing that we almost cried. We -felt awfully to think that a poor, innocent, little chap should be -treated that way by people who were fighting for liberty and justice, as -the French were. It didn't make any difference if he <i>was</i> a king's son. -He had just as much right to be fairly treated as any one, and <i>more</i>, -because he was so little and helpless. I don't wonder that Monsieur said -he was one of the world's heroic martyrs. One book said that he was -always so sweet and gentle and winning. His pretty manner at times even -softened the hearts of some of his cruel jailers.</p> - -<p>Well, that's the history of the dauphin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> He would have been Louis XVII, -if he had lived to become a king. The portrait of him must have been -painted before all the trouble broke out. At that time the poor little -fellow could not have dreamed what he was going to suffer later. It's -well that he didn't know.</p> - -<p>As there didn't seem to be any more to find out, we decided we'd better -go home.</p> - -<p>I was longing for a chance to tell the Imp what we'd discovered, but she -had a bad sore-throat from getting her feet wet this afternoon, and -Mother had put her to bed. So I must wait till to-morrow. But since I've -had an opportunity to sit down and think this all over quietly, I've -been trying to see what connection all these things can possibly have -with affairs across the Green. So far, however, nothing but unanswered -questions has been the result.</p> - -<p>For instance, I can <i>not</i> understand why Monsieur should consider that -portrait as one of his most treasured possessions. Of course the story -about the boy is terribly sad, but unless he was some relative of -Monsieur's (which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> is quite impossible), why should Monsieur cherish the -picture? He never saw the child, and can't possibly have any affection -for him. I don't understand it. And what are those two other pictures, -so carefully covered? Perhaps they are more portraits of the same child, -painted later and too sad to be looked at? I'd love to know.</p> - -<p>I wonder, too, if Louis knew about this dauphin, would he still continue -to hate the picture? Or would he be afraid of it? I'm just crazy to tell -him, yet I suppose it wouldn't be fair,—at present, anyway. Good -gracious! An idea has just occurred to me. I happened to think of that -strange dream Louis said he had when he was sick. Was there ever -anything so curious? I remember that he said the little fellow seemed so -changed, with ragged clothes and matted hair and tear-stained cheeks and -a red cap on his head! Why, that is just the way one of those books -described him after he was put in charge of the cobbler. Simon took away -all his nice clothes and made him wear a red "liberty-cap," and forced -him to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> sing the songs of the revolution and dance for him. And Louis -dreamed all that change in his appearance, yet he doesn't know who the -subject of the portrait is and very little, if anything, about this -dauphin, in all probability. This is simply uncanny! I must tell Carol -in the morning.</p> - -<p class="space-above">April 19. I haven't had a chance to write a thing in this journal for a -week. We have been having the dressmaker. She's getting all our spring -things in order, and I've had to help her and Mother with the sewing -every spare minute that I've had. Father's been laid up, too, with an -acute attack of rheumatism, and was in bed several days. For nearly half -the week I didn't even go to school. So, altogether, I've been having a -rather strenuous time.</p> - -<p>But, all the same, I haven't forgotten our mystery for a single minute. -Carol has kept me posted on anything new that has happened, though -nothing special did happen till yesterday. She has been madly reading -history ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> since. She always did have a taste for it, and this has -given her the inspiration to read up French history from the very -beginning. She says she's finding it as interesting as a story. Well, -maybe she is, but I'm sure <i>I</i> wouldn't.</p> - -<p>One thing she said was that the more she read, the more she felt that -the French weren't much to blame for what they did while getting rid of -their kings and queens in that revolution. Of course they might have -used gentler means, but they were probably too exasperated by the way -they'd been downtrodden. From almost the beginning the reigning monarchs -were a <i>precious lot</i>, evidently considering it their chief business in -life to squeeze the most they could out of their subjects. Each one felt -he'd lived in vain, apparently, if he hadn't gone his ancestor one -better at that occupation! Carol says that Louis XVI seems to have been -a lot better than most of them, but by that time the French were too -furious to consider that, I suppose. Anyway, he had to suffer for what -his ancestors had done.</p> - -<p>We haven't seen much of Monsieur lately.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> Louis says he hasn't been -well. This climate doesn't agree with him, and he has rheumatism and -gout, and has caught a dreadful cold. I don't see why he stays here, if -it makes him so miserable. Anyhow, he was in such bad shape that he -decided to go to New York to spend a few days at a sanitarium, and Miss -Yvonne had to take him there, for he was too sick to go alone. He went -yesterday, and last night a queer thing happened. Carol told me about it -this afternoon, giving the account as Louis told it to her while coming -home from school on the trolley.</p> - -<p>It seems that he and his uncle were sitting downstairs in the -living-room when, about nine o'clock, they heard a dreadful crash -upstairs, directly over their heads. They couldn't think what in the -world it could be, and were so startled that neither of them moved or -spoke for a moment. Then Louis jumped up, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>"Something's the matter in Monsieur's room! That's right overhead. I'll -go up and see."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>At first his uncle didn't seem to want him to go, saying he'd rather go -himself. But as he's very feeble and doesn't go upstairs often (his -bedroom is on the lower floor), Louis wouldn't hear of it and insisted -that at least they go together. So up they went.</p> - -<p>When they reached Monsieur's room and struck a light, they saw that the -picture of the boy had fallen to the floor and that the glass was -broken. Evidently, the wire by which it was hung had become rusty and -given way, for the picture is very heavy. Louis didn't think much of the -occurrence. He merely remarked that he'd clean up the broken glass and -get a glazier to come in the morning and put in a new one. Also, he said -he'd get some new wire and rehang it.</p> - -<p>But for some unknown reason old Mr. Meadows was nearly wild. He stood -and wrung his hands, and walked up and down, as if something perfectly -awful had happened. Louis couldn't make out what in the world was the -matter with him. Finally he said:</p> - -<p>"It's all right, Uncle. What are you so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>excited about? I'm going to -have it all fixed up to-morrow. It will be as good as ever. The picture -itself isn't damaged a bit."</p> - -<p>But even then his uncle couldn't seem to calm down, and all Louis could -get from him was this remark, repeated over and over:</p> - -<p>"'Tis an evil omen! An unfortunate sign! On no account must Monsieur -know of it!"</p> - -<p>Louis said that was all right; he needn't know of it. The picture would -be all fixed up long before Monsieur came back. And even Miss Yvonne -needn't hear of it, for he'd see that it was in place before she came -home to-day. This seemed to calm Mr. Meadows somewhat, and he finally -consented to have it so. But all the evening he kept muttering, "An evil -omen!" to himself, and acted uneasy. Louis says he doesn't see any sense -in it. I can't say that I do either, even with what I know, and yet it -does seem sort of queer.</p> - -<p>I'm too tired to write much more to-night, and yet I must tell about how -the Imp acted when we told her of what we'd unearthed in the histories -about the dauphin.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>We were awfully enthusiastic over telling her, for we felt sure she -would think we'd done a good piece of work. As a matter of fact, Carol -and I doubted very much whether the Imp could possibly have found out as -much as we had, for we'd dug into things so thoroughly. We felt sure we -were giving her some points she hadn't discovered, and we were rather -proud of ourselves. Imagine our disgust when she remarked, after we'd -finished:</p> - -<p>"Well, you've done very nicely, children!" She always calls us -"children" when she wants to be patronizing and unpleasant. I thought it -strange that she should suddenly turn horrid, when she's acted so -friendly of late.</p> - -<p>"Don't be hateful," I said, "but admit that we have given you some good -points."</p> - -<p>"I don't mean to be hateful," she retorted, "but it makes me mad to see -how little you girls use your brains."</p> - -<p>"I don't think that's a nice remark," I said, "but I'll forgive you for -it, if you'll be kind enough to explain what you mean."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>"Why, just this," she answered. "There are one, two,—yes, three points -in things you know about that you haven't connected with this picture or -this history at all, so far as I can see."</p> - -<p>"What are they?" I demanded.</p> - -<p>"You know that I can't tell you," she replied. "I can only advise you to -use your brains and your memories."</p> - -<p>"Anything else?" I inquired, as mildly as I could, for by that time I -was getting furious with her.</p> - -<p>"Yes, one thing more," she said. "You were trying to be patronizing, -weren't you, when you asked me if you hadn't given me some good points. -As if it wasn't <i>I</i> who put you on the right track in the beginning! -I've always said that you two were an ungrateful pair, and now I'm sure -of it. I'll give you just one more piece of information, and then I'm -through. You thought you had discovered more than I have? Why, I've -unearthed so much more that you haven't even touched or suspected that -you'd be perfectly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> amazed, if you knew what I do!" With that, she -flounced out of the room.</p> - -<p>I can't help but believe the Imp, mad as she has made me. Goodness knows -when she'll come round to being amiable again, for once she goes off on -a tangent like this, she <i>stays</i> off for a good long while. It's too bad!</p> - -<p>What in the world can those three things be that she was talking about?</p> - -<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XI</span> <span class="smaller">LOUIS SPRINGS A SURPRISE—AND THE CONSEQUENCES THEREOF</span></h2> - -<p>May 1, 1914. Nothing special has happened during the last two weeks that -is worth writing about. Carol and I haven't made the least progress in -solving the riddles I last mentioned. The Imp fulfilled all my -expectations, and has been most objectionable ever since that day. Queer -how she turns completely around at times, especially when she feels the -least bit touchy, and acts as if we were her mortal enemies. She has -hardly spoken to us lately.</p> - -<p>Monsieur came home from his sanitarium, and seems a lot improved. The -weather is lovely, anyhow, and he stays outdoors a good deal, so I -suppose that helps, too. Carol and I have had several interesting talks -with him. You can't help seeing a good deal of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> neighbors in this -shut-off spot around the Green, when the weather is nice, and even -Monsieur seems to have become used to strolling over and having little -friendly chats with us. He has "thawed out" a lot, and actually seems -quite human <i>now</i>. The Imp is still his favorite, of course, but he has -come to realize <i>our</i> existence when she isn't about.</p> - -<p>What I wanted specially to write about to-night was the delightful time -we had to-day. Louis gave us all a treat, and besides providing such a -good time, he also gave us the surprise of our lives. There was to be a -big aviation exhibition over in Bridgeton this afternoon, and yesterday -Louis gave us all invitations to go with him and see it. He said he had -unusually good seats on the flying field. It was something we wouldn't -have missed for anything, and so we all went,—Dave, Carol, and myself, -and even the Imp. Louis said he had invited Monsieur, too, but Monsieur -did not care to go, not feeling as well as usual to-day.</p> - -<p>I've never seen an aëroplane near by before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> To tell the truth, the -nearest I ever <i>did</i> see one was probably a thousand feet up in the air, -sailing over our house one time. We had gorgeous seats right in front, -and could see everything plainly. I was so thrilled when the first one -rolled out and soared up majestically that I could have risen and -shouted myself hoarse. Carol had to pull me down once, to keep me from -tumbling right over the railing in my excitement. But that was nothing -to what was to come. We were so absorbed that we didn't notice that -after a while Louis slipped away and disappeared. What was our -astonishment to see him suddenly strolling down the field in a regular -aviator's costume, with a helmet in his hand. He came over to us, -laughing, and said:</p> - -<p>"I know I've given you all a shock, that is, all except Dave. He's been -in the secret. But I might as well up and confess my crimes now. I've -been mad about this aviation business for a year or more, and I have -been studying it secretly for some time. A fellow I know here in -Bridgeton has a machine and is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> to fly to-day. His name is Page Calvin. -He hasn't gone up yet. I've studied and worked on his machine till I -know it by heart, but I've never been up in it yet. To-day he's going to -take me up, and if I stand it all right,—some people can't, you -know,—why then it's aviation for <i>me</i>, in preference to everything -else!"</p> - -<p>Well, we were so thunderstruck that we couldn't say a word for a moment, -and just gasped. At last I managed to stammer:</p> - -<p>"And—and is Dave going in for this, too?"</p> - -<p>"Not I!" said Dave. "I haven't any head for it. I get too dizzy. But I'm -going to help Louis build a model aëroplane when we've finished that -motor-boat. I'm interested in the mechanical part of it."</p> - -<p>"But what about Monsieur?" Carol asked Louis. "Have you told him about -this?"</p> - -<p>"No, I haven't," said Louis. "That's why I wanted him to come to-day, so -that I could surprise him, too. I'm sorry he couldn't—"</p> - -<p>Just then some one came and told Louis that the biplane he was to go up -in was ready, so that he said good-bye and walked away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> We watched him -put on his helmet and climb into the machine, and I confess now that I -never expected to see him alive again. It's all right when some one you -<i>don't</i> know is going up; you're just excited and thrilled. But when -it's some one that you <i>do</i>, you're simply frozen stiff with fright, and -you're morally certain that he'll come crashing to earth any second!</p> - -<p>Carol and I gripped hands and held our breath, and I believe it was the -longest fifteen minutes I ever knew or expect to know. They sailed -completely out of sight for a while, and then the suspense was worse. -But at last the biplane came back and settled on the field as gracefully -as a bird. Louis was wild with excitement when he returned to us, and he -says it's the most wonderful experience imaginable. The Imp was so -worked up over it that she wanted Louis to persuade his friend to take -her up and "loop the loop"! He laughed, and told her it was not allowed, -but I believe that for a while she really thought she could tease him -into it.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p><p>There was one other exciting thing that happened. Toward the last a -machine went up and something went wrong with the engine when it was -about two hundred and fifty feet in the air. It began to droop over in a -sort of lopsided fashion, and then began to settle, like a bird that has -been wounded in the wing. Before it reached the ground it was almost -upside down, and every one was nearly frantic, thinking the man in it -would fall out. But he didn't, and at last it came to earth with quite a -crash. A lot of people rushed to help the aviator out, Louis among them. -He wasn't killed, but they said he had a badly fractured arm, and we saw -him being fairly carried off the field. It made me actually sick to -think what a horribly dangerous career Louis was letting himself in for. -But it didn't seem to disturb <i>him</i> a bit. All he would say was that a -careful aviator would never let a thing like that happen.</p> - -<p>It was late when we came home, so we invited Louis and Carol over to our -house to tea, and had a jolly evening afterward.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>I've had a gorgeous day and, as Louis said, "the surprise of my life." -But I cannot help wondering how Monsieur is going to take this piece of -news.</p> - -<p class="space-above">It was the day after Louis's great surprise, and, since it was Saturday, -he was out in the barn hard at work putting the finishing touches to the -motor-boat that was to be launched on the river during the coming week. -Carol, Sue, and the Imp had also drifted over to admire the -"toot-and-scramble," as the Imp insisted on pronouncing Louis's favorite -French expression, <i>tout ensemble</i>.</p> - -<p>"Won't it be jolly to have our first picnic up the river in her?" -remarked the boy, stopping to glance critically at a stroke of varnish -he had just administered. "Do you know, I really began this boat just to -get my hand into that kind of mechanical work, but I believe we're going -to have a lot of fun out of her, too. However, just you wait till I -begin my biplane—"</p> - -<p>At that moment a shadow fell across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> doorway, and the figure of -Monsieur entered unexpectedly behind the group.</p> - -<p>"<i>Bon matin</i>," he began, as was his custom. Then suddenly and sharply he -added in English to Louis, "What is that you say?"</p> - -<p>"Good-morning," said Louis, politely. "I haven't seen you, sir, since -our expedition yesterday, or I would have told you what I told the girls -at the aviation field. I hope you'll be pleased."</p> - -<p>With a visible effort, for, in reality, he greatly dreaded this -revelation to Monsieur, yet simply and directly he told the old -gentleman what he had said and done on the previous day.</p> - -<p>The result was as unexpected as it was distressing. Not one of the -listeners but was fully prepared to see the excitable French gentleman -rage and storm and attempt to forbid Louis to engage in so dangerous a -pursuit. From all they had heard of him, they could imagine no other -course of action. They were entirely unprepared, however, for the -strange quiet with which he received the news. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> not till Louis -began to tell of yesterday's flight that Monsieur suddenly raised his -hand and cried in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"Stop! A chair, if you please! I—I feel very—ill!"</p> - -<p>Not till then did they notice the strange, gray pallor that had crept -into his face. Louis hurried into the main part of the barn and came -back with a rickety chair. When he had placed it, Monsieur sat down -heavily and, groaning slightly, pressed his hand to his side.</p> - -<p>"Hurry in—to—Mademoiselle Yvonne!" he gasped. "Tell her—bring my -medicine. My heart! It—it has been weak for years!"</p> - -<p>Louis dashed out of the barn to obey his command, and Carol dashed after -him, glad to get away from the sight of physical suffering. But the Imp -and Sue stayed with the old gentleman, the Imp steadying him in his -chair with her strong young arm, for he seemed to be slipping down. Sue -began fanning him frantically with a newspaper. It seemed as if the -other two were gone for an age, and, in fact, they were gone longer than -might have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> been expected, for Miss Yvonne was not about the house and -had to be hunted up in the big garden.</p> - -<p>Before they came back, however, Monsieur appeared to grow a trifle -easier. But the only word he said during the absence of the others was -just before they came back with Miss Yvonne.</p> - -<p>"It is useless!" they heard him murmur, and the Imp, bending over, asked -him what he had said and if they could do anything. But he acted hardly -aware of her presence, and went on murmuring something in French. Then -the others returned, bringing Miss Yvonne, breathless and excited, but -carrying a bottle and spoon. A few moments after taking the medicine -Monsieur seemed easier, and with the help of all he managed to get back -to the house.</p> - -<p>"It's all right now," Louis told the girls. "He says he will go to bed -and rest, but the worst of the attack is past. Don't you worry."</p> - -<p>The three girls wandered back across the Green, subdued and upset by -what had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>happened. Even the Imp was apparently forgetful of her past -grievances toward the others.</p> - -<p>"I wonder what he was trying to say?" marvelled Sue, as the three roamed -aimlessly toward Carol's barn. "Did you catch it, Bobs? You were nearest -to him, and I think he spoke in French."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I caught it," said the Imp, turning to them suddenly. "And look -here, girls, I believe I might as well tell you the whole thing now, if -you care to hear. I'm getting tired of the worry of carrying this thing -around by myself!"</p> - -<p>If she had exploded a bomb in their midst, she could not have startled -them more.</p> - -<p>"Gracious! What has made you change so?" demanded Sue, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>"Well, I feel kind of upset by what has happened this morning," admitted -the Imp, "and so I feel like getting this thing off my mind. Do you know -what he was muttering in French, as he sat there? It was this: 'It is -useless to try any longer to keep the secret. I must tell him at once'!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p><p>"So you see, if he tells Louis," went on the Imp, "there's no reason, -so far as I can see, why I shouldn't tell you <i>now</i>. Come up into your -den, and I'll tell you all I know!"</p> - -<p>She began to climb the ladder to the haymow, and the two followed her, -silent with amazement.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XII</span> <span class="smaller">WHAT THE IMP KNEW</span></h2> - -<p>The three filed into the den off the haymow, and Carol solemnly -padlocked the door on the inside. As there were only two chairs, the Imp -perched herself on the old desk, curling her feet up under her. The one -window was wide open, and through it was wafted the scent of lilacs and -the sound of a lawn-mower propelled by Dave somewhere across the Green. -For a moment after they were seated no one spoke.</p> - -<p>"Well?" said Carol, impatiently. "Go on, Imp! Begin <i>some</i>where."</p> - -<p>"I was just wondering where to begin," admitted the Imp. "I was trying -to remember what you actually <i>do</i> know, but I guess, except for the -fact as to who that picture is, you don't know a single thing."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>"You once said," Sue reminded her, "that there were three things we -actually knew that we hadn't connected with this affair. We've tried and -tried to think what they were, but somehow we never could seem to strike -them. Perhaps you'd better begin with <i>them</i>."</p> - -<p>But the Imp ignored this suggestion.</p> - -<p>"I suppose it <i>has</i> dawned on you that that picture has some connection -with Louis?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"We've thought of it, but it seemed so impossible that we finally gave -up the idea," replied Sue. "What <i>could</i> it possibly have to do with -him?"</p> - -<p>"Everything," answered the Imp briefly.</p> - -<p>"Go on, then!" commanded Sue. "You've kept us on tenter-hooks long -enough. If you're going to tell us at all, do please begin at the -beginning, and don't stop till you're through."</p> - -<p>"The trouble is just this," admitted the Imp. "I don't actually <i>know</i> -anything much at all. It's just guesswork, except for one or two things. -You seem to think Monsieur has told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> me the whole business. Well, he -hasn't,—not a single thing,—except that I was right about knowing who -that portrait was, and he asked me not to say anything about it, -especially to Louis. Everything else I've worked out for myself, and it -<i>may</i> be all wrong; but somehow I don't think it is."</p> - -<p>The two listeners looked crestfallen. For some time past they had come -to believe that the Imp was wholly and entirely in Monsieur's -confidence. It was a shock to learn the truth. Carol immediately -intimated as much to the assembled company.</p> - -<p>"You're a pack of sillies," exclaimed the Imp scornfully, "to imagine -such a thing, anyway! Why, this thing is of—of immense importance -to—well, I was almost going to say to the whole world. Do you suppose -for one moment that a youngster would be let into such an important -secret?"</p> - -<p>"What are you saying? 'To the whole world'?" cried Carol. "Are you going -crazy, or do you think you are taking us in again with some of your -nonsense?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>"I'm <i>not</i> talking nonsense, and I'll prove it. Do you know what I -discovered by reading a little more than you did at the library, and -also from an old book that Miss Hastings lent me, because I told her I -was interested in the subject? Well, I found out that, although most -people think it's a settled fact that that poor little dauphin died in -prison, still there are a lot of legends that he really escaped, that he -was helped to escape by some of the Royalists, and that the little boy -who died there wasn't the dauphin at all!"</p> - -<p>The Imp stopped to let this startling news sink into the minds of her -hearers.</p> - -<p>"But—but—" stammered Sue, "if he escaped, what became of him?"</p> - -<p>"That's something that never was known," answered the Imp. "After the -downfall of Napoleon and the restoration of the Bourbons in France, -there were a lot of pretenders who <i>said</i> they were the escaped dauphin -and claimed the throne. But they never could prove it, so no one paid -much attention to them. Only you see there must have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> some truth in -it,—his escape, I mean,—or no one would have thought of such a thing."</p> - -<p>"But I don't see, anyway, what all that has to do with this affair," -remarked Carol.</p> - -<p>"Don't you?" replied the Imp coldly. "Then you're more stupid than I -gave you credit for being."</p> - -<p>Carol quite wilted under this rebuke, but Sue, who had been doing some -rapid thinking, cried:</p> - -<p>"Mercy! It can't be possible that—"</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," interrupted the Imp. "I'm going to answer your question -about those three things, and see what you make of it. Do you remember -what they used to call Louis XVI—the people, I mean? I'm sure you know, -because you mentioned it to me that day you were telling me what you'd -found out."</p> - -<p>"'Louis the Locksmith,'" answered Carol promptly.</p> - -<p>"Right," said the Imp. "Does <i>that</i> make you think of anything?"</p> - -<p>Carol shook her head.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, you're hopeless!" groaned the Imp. "Try the next one. When Louis -was sick one time Monsieur stood over him murmuring something about 'the -Temple look.' Does <i>that</i> convey anything to your mind?"</p> - -<p>"It does to mine," interrupted Sue. "Oh, I believe I'm beginning to -understand."</p> - -<p>But Carol still looked hopelessly confused.</p> - -<p>"Well, here's the last," went on the Imp. "Why should Monsieur and all -the others treat Louis in the queer way they do? Why should Louis have -found Monsieur kissing his hand that time?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, please explain <i>clearly</i>, Bobs!" moaned Carol. "You mix me up so, -firing questions at me, that I can't think at all. Just say straight out -what it is."</p> - -<p>"All right, I will. I'll say it in words of one syllable, suitable to -your infant mind," laughed the Imp. "It may sound like the craziest idea -that ever was imagined, but I believe Louis to be a descendant of that -little dauphin, and I believe Monsieur knows it and the Meadows people, -too."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>The conjecture was so stupefying in its scope that the three girls sat -for a moment in dumb, confused wonder.</p> - -<p>"I can't believe it," murmured Carol, at length. "Right here on little -Paradise Green, way out of the world, to have such a thing happen? -Impossible!"</p> - -<p>"It's no stranger than lots of other things that have happened in -history," asserted the Imp, "when you come to think it over. And it's so -possible, too."</p> - -<p>"But here, <i>here</i>!" cried Sue. "What in the world would Louis be doing -in America? I could believe it more easily if we lived somewhere in -France."</p> - -<p>"I read in one book," replied the Imp to this objection, "that there was -a rumor that after the dauphin escaped he was taken to America. There -was an American Indian, named Eleazar Williams, or something like that, -who claimed to be the dauphin. So you see it's not so impossible, after -all."</p> - -<p>"Now I begin to see," remarked Carol, after a long pause, "what you -meant by some of those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> three things. If Monsieur thinks Louis is a -descendant of the dauphin, I can understand why they all treat him with -such respect. Why, girls," she cried enthusiastically, "just -think,—Louis—<i>our Louis</i>—may have royal blood in his veins! I simply -can't believe it!"</p> - -<p>"That remark about 'the Temple look' meant, I suppose," murmured Sue, -"that Louis looked so awfully when he was sick that it reminded Monsieur -how the dauphin must have appeared after his bad treatment and illness -in the Temple Tower. That never occurred to me. But I can't yet see any -connection with what you said about 'Louis the Locksmith.'"</p> - -<p>"That's easy," answered the Imp. "It was one of the first things I -thought of. Don't you remember how Louis XVI was always tinkering with -things and fixing locks, and how fond he was of mechanical work? The -whole court used to resent it. Well, the Meadows and Monsieur evidently -think that Louis has inherited that trait, and it drives them wild. -Don't you remember what Louis told us Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> Yvonne once said when she -found him fixing the lock on the kitchen-door? 'The ancient blood! It -will ruin everything!' Doesn't that indicate what they think?"</p> - -<p>"True enough," Sue had to admit. "But what foolishness all this is, -girls, when you think of Louis's history and the history of his family! -I was asking Father about Louis's folks not long ago, just out of -curiosity. He said that the Durants had lived in and owned that house -across the Green for many, many years, even longer than our descendants -have lived in our house. It was way back in the eighties when Louis's -father left here and went out West. He was a young man then, about -Father's age. In fact, they'd gone to school together. But this Charles -Durant went away out West to better himself, and rented the old house on -this Green. Father says he never saw him again, because Charles Durant -and the wife he'd married out there were suddenly killed in an accident. -The first Father heard about it was when old Mr. Meadows and his -daughter, whom nobody had ever seen before,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> came to this place with the -tiny baby who was Louis, and settled here for good. They never said much -about themselves, except that they were old friends of the Durant family -and that they had always lived in France. They explained that they had -come over here to take care of and bring up the last Durant baby, since -its parents had been killed. Now will you tell me how anything about a -dauphin could come in there?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe they didn't bring the baby from out West," suggested Carol, "but -brought him over from France with them. Maybe he isn't a Durant at all."</p> - -<p>"That's possible, too," said the Imp, "but, after all, it doesn't make -any difference where he came from, does it, if Louis is what we think he -is?"</p> - -<p>"But who is this 'Monsieur,' and what has <i>he</i> to do with the whole -thing?" suddenly cried Carol.</p> - -<p>"That," admitted the Imp, "is what I can't figure out. I'm sure he must -be some relative. They say there are descendants of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> Bourbons still -living. It wouldn't be strange if he wanted to hunt up a long-lost -relative, but why he should make such a secret of it is beyond me."</p> - -<p>"Bobs," cried Sue, suddenly going off at a tangent, "have you any idea -about those two other pictures in Monsieur's room,—the ones all covered -up? I've stayed awake nights trying to guess who on earth they could be, -and why he keeps them covered."</p> - -<p>"Why, of course I don't <i>know</i>," laughed the Imp, "but I can make a good -guess. I believe they're portraits of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. I -can't imagine why he keeps them covered, unless it's to keep Louis or -any one else from guessing anything about this affair. Of course they're -very well-known portraits, and almost any child would know who they were -at first sight. But it's different with the dauphin. Very few people -know that picture by sight. That's the only reason I can think of."</p> - -<p>It seemed such a simple explanation, after they'd heard it, that both -girls felt a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> chagrined to think that they'd never had the wit to -work out this easy problem. But so humble were they now, after the Imp's -astounding revelation, that they were willing to admit their inferior -wit twenty times over.</p> - -<p>It was Sue who presently voiced the unspoken thought that was in each -mind.</p> - -<p>"I wonder how Louis will take all this?" she sighed.</p> - -<p>This was a matter that went beyond their conjecture. How, indeed, -<i>would</i> Louis take it?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII</span> <span class="smaller">SUSPICIONS</span></h2> - -<p>May 17, 1914. It may seem a strange thing, but two whole weeks have gone -by since the Imp told us what she did, and nothing has happened at all. -By "nothing" I mean that no astonishing developments of any kind have -occurred. We went out from Carol's barn that day perfectly certain that -everything—about Louis, at least—would be changed and strange and -upheaved. We lived on a tiptoe of expectation for hours and days, but -all has gone on over there just the same as ever. I can't understand it.</p> - -<p>That morning, about eleven o'clock, Louis came over to tell us that -Monsieur was feeling much better, and that we need no longer worry about -him. We all gazed at him curiously,—<i>so</i> curiously, I'm afraid, that he -noticed it.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>"What's the matter?" he asked. "You all act as if you were seeing a -spook. Is there anything wrong about me anywhere?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no!" I hurried to assure him. "We were wondering how Monsieur was -getting on."</p> - -<p>"Well, he's getting on famously," said Louis, "but I certainly did -manage to upset him. I was afraid he wouldn't take the news well, but I -didn't dream it would be as bad as that. I only supposed he would rant -and tear his hair. I'm horribly sorry, for I'm actually getting a bit -fond of the old gentleman, queer as he is."</p> - -<p>"Did he say anything more to you about it?" asked the Imp.</p> - -<p>I knew she couldn't resist asking that. I was crazy to, myself, but -couldn't pluck up the courage.</p> - -<p>"Not another word," Louis replied. "I expected he'd say a whole -dictionary full. He did start off once with a word or two, but evidently -changed his mind. He hasn't even hinted at it since."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>This seemed a little queer, but we decided (after Louis had gone) that -Monsieur was probably putting off the ordeal till he felt stronger. That -would be entirely likely. So we told each other that by the next day -Louis would probably know the whole strange truth.</p> - -<p>But the next day came and went, and Louis was just the same and nothing -was changed, even at the end of a week. He told us that Monsieur had -never so much as alluded to the subject again, and, for <i>his</i> part, he -was mighty glad that the affair had blown over. He said he was sure -Monsieur would get used to the notion after a while.</p> - -<p>So time has passed, and things remain just as they were. We cannot -imagine what has come over Monsieur,—Carol, the Imp, and myself, I -mean. Why is he waiting? Why doesn't he tell Louis, as he said would -have to? What does all this delay mean?</p> - -<p>But if everything remains outwardly the same, it is not so with the way -we three <i>feel</i> about things. I don't know if I can explain the strange -change that has come over our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>feelings toward Louis and Monsieur and -all that concerns them,—especially toward Louis. All our lives he has -been just 'Louis Durant,' the nice boy who lived across the Green, who -played with us from the time we were babies and studied with us in the -same classes in school, who was just like our brother, except that he -didn't live in the same house. We have always thought of him in the same -way that we do of Dave. Now, however, everything is different. He -<i>isn't</i> 'Louis Durant' any more. He's some strange, unknown, -long-way-off person, whose ancestors were monarchs of one of the -greatest countries on earth, and who might have been a king himself, if -things had gone a little differently. I simply <i>can't</i> feel near to, and -well-acquainted with, a person like that. Carol says she can't, either, -and the Imp admits that she's felt so a good while longer than we have.</p> - -<p>It seems as if <i>our</i> Louis had been taken away forever and a strange, -unapproachable person had been put in his place. Not that Louis -<i>himself</i> acts any differently. He's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>exactly the same as ever, of -course, and he's said a dozen times in the course of the last week:</p> - -<p>"What's come over you girls, anyway? You're all the time gazing at me -with eyes as big as dinner-plates, and you act so queerly and are so -absent-minded that I don't know you! Has a realization of the fact that -I hope some day to be a full-fledged aviator had such a doleful effect -on you as all that? You haven't been the same since that day. I wish to -goodness that I'd never told you, if you're going to take it in this -silly way."</p> - -<p>Of course we try to assure him that nothing at all is the matter, but it -doesn't work very well.</p> - -<p>We three have talked a number of times about whether we ought to breathe -a word of what we suspect to Louis, but the Imp says positively, "No." -If he is to know, she says, he must learn it from Monsieur and from no -other. In fact, by rights she ought not to have let us into the secret, -and she wouldn't have done so, except that she thought there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> would be -no reason why she shouldn't after Monsieur had told Louis. Since he -apparently hasn't told him anything yet, it is our duty to keep the -secret. I guess she must be right. <i>I</i> wouldn't want to be the one to -tell Louis, anyway.</p> - -<p>Our final exams for this year are coming in a week or so, and we are all -"cramming" hard, so I probably won't have a chance to think of much else -for some time to come.</p> - -<p class="space-above">June 3, 1914. Everything is just about the same as when I last wrote in -this journal. Nothing is changed, as far as we can see, in affairs -across the Green. We are all so busy working for and taking our -examinations that we haven't had much time to think about it, especially -Carol, who is weak in mathematics, and I, who always dread Latin. Only -the Imp remains unworried by these troubles. Her studies never did cause -her a moment's uneasiness, as far as I can see, though how she gets -through them, when she never makes even a pretense of studying, is -beyond me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>Monsieur is about again in the usual way, and two or three times Carol -and I have had a few moments' conversation with him, while he was -strolling on the Green. I simply can't describe the uncanny feeling I -have when with him now. If he was a mysterious person before, he's a -million times more so now, and every moment that I'm talking to him I -find myself in a panic, for fear those eagle eyes of his will bore into -my mind and discover the fact that I know his secret. Of course I don't -suppose he realizes for a moment what he said that day he was taken so -ill, and certainly he does not dream that the Imp was keen enough to -unearth what she did. He is polite and courteous and stilted—and very -French—in his manner toward us, and I suppose he no more dreams that we -know what we do than he supposes that the sky will fall on him.</p> - -<p>One thing is beginning to disturb me very much. It's a suspicion that -occurred to the Imp, and that she confided to us a day or two ago. She -rather startled Carol and me by suddenly putting this question to us:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p><p>"What do you figure out that Monsieur's plans are?"</p> - -<p>"How on earth should <i>we</i> know?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Well, you must admit that he probably has some, or he wouldn't be -dangling around here so long," replied the Imp. "Why shouldn't he tell -Louis what he has to tell, and then go away or take Louis away, as the -case may be?"</p> - -<p>"What do <i>you</i> think, Bobs?" asked Carol. "I'll warrant you have worked -it all out."</p> - -<p>"If I tell you what I think, you'll tell <i>me</i> I'm a lunatic," declared -the Imp. "It does sound rather crazy, and yet why shouldn't it be so?"</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't <i>what</i> be so?" I cried. "You haven't even told us yet."</p> - -<p>"Well, here's my notion," she said. "Suppose—well, just suppose that -somebody wanted to overthrow the present government of France. Wouldn't -this be a lovely chance?"</p> - -<p>We were struck dumb with amazement by this astounding proposition.</p> - -<p>"I guess you <i>are</i> a lunatic!" I said. "But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> even lunatics ought to have -a chance to explain themselves. Go on."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I know it sounds foolish," returned the Imp, "but, after all, is it -any more foolish than the possibility that our Louis may be a descendant -of a king of France? Just think what that means. Suppose there are a lot -of discontented descendants of royalists in France, who are dissatisfied -with the present form of government. And suppose that they hear there -<i>is</i> a direct descendant of Louis XVI now living. Wouldn't it be a -lovely chance to get up a secret insurrection in his favor and so -restore him to the throne? It wouldn't be the first time that a republic -has been overthrown in that country, if you remember. And if this -Monsieur happens to be a Bourbon relation, he'd be all the more -interested."</p> - -<p>Just then Carol gave a gasp, and cried out:</p> - -<p>"Yes, and do you remember the way that first cablegram commenced? 'Time -almost ripe'! I always did think that was queer."</p> - -<p>"Exactly what I said," continued the Imp. "And what do you suppose -Monsieur is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>twiddling his thumbs around Paradise Green for? Just -because Louis isn't falling in with his plans as nicely as he'd hoped. -I'll warrant Monsieur has been horribly disappointed from the first, -because Louis was so thoroughly <i>American</i> and didn't take a scrap of -interest in his French affairs. He sees plainly that Louis isn't going -to be easy to handle. And if <i>Louis</i> won't stand for this restoration -business, then 'the fat's in the fire.' <i>That's</i> what's bothering -Monsieur. And he's waiting around to see if he can't win Louis over -unconsciously somehow. At least, that's how I've figured it out."</p> - -<p>We couldn't help but agree with her, and wondered that we'd never -thought of it by ourselves. Besides, the more we thought of it, the more -we remembered dozens of little incidents that seem to confirm it. If we -all weren't so busy pegging away at our exams, and so had more time to -think about this, I feel sure that we could come to some definite -conclusion about it, but as matters stand, I, for one, am too bewildered -to know what to think.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>And Louis goes about as happy as a lark, unconscious of it all!</p> - -<p class="space-above">June 29, 1914. Examinations are over at last, and I'm thankful to say -that we all passed, except that Carol has a "condition" in mathematics -that she'll have to make up during the summer. Anyhow, it's over, and we -can breathe more freely and look forward to vacation.</p> - -<p>Last evening after tea the Imp asked Carol and myself to go for a walk -with her, as she had something important she wanted to tell us. We -suspected that she'd thought out something else about Louis, so we went -quite willingly. Otherwise, I'm bound to confess, we'd have been bored -stiff with the prospect of spending our time with her. It was quite -true. She <i>had</i> thought of something new.</p> - -<p>"Girls," she began, "has it occurred to you that if what we suspect -about Monsieur and Louis is true, it's a very serious affair?"</p> - -<p>We said we supposed so, but that we didn't see how we could help it.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"That's just it," she answered. "We <i>ought</i> to help it, somehow. I told -you once that this was a matter that might affect the world, and you can -easily see now that it is. Ought we to simply sit down and let it slide -gaily along?"</p> - -<p>"But what on earth can <i>we</i> do about it?" I demanded. "Just remember -that we're nothing but three young girls, one not even out of public -school, and that not a soul on earth would believe us if we were to make -such fools of ourselves as to tell what, after all, we only suspect."</p> - -<p>"History has sometimes been in the hands of as young people as -ourselves," she remarked. I'm sure I don't know where the Imp gets all -her information, and yet somehow I'm bound to believe her. <i>I</i> couldn't -think of a single case where history had been in the hands of any one of -our age, but I didn't dare say so, because she would probably have -promptly pointed out half a dozen cases. So I said nothing.</p> - -<p>"I haven't made up my mind what we ought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> to do," she went on, "but I'm -sure <i>something</i> must be done, and pretty soon, too!"</p> - -<p>"Suppose we begin by telling Father," I suggested. "He has a pretty -level head about most things."</p> - -<p>"Pooh!" she scoffed. "He'd just laugh his head off at us, and tell us to -run away and play and forget all about it. You know Father doesn't take -much stock in anything that isn't agriculture." This was quite true, and -we saw at once that the Imp had the right of it.</p> - -<p>"No, don't speak to any one yet," she added. "We'll keep the secret a -while longer, till I've thought out a better plan."</p> - -<p class="space-above">This morning another queer thing happened. As there was no school, we -were all sitting on the veranda discussing the startling news in the -paper, the assassination of the Archduke of Austria, which happened -yesterday. Just then Louis came over to ask us to go out in the launch.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>"What do you think of the news?" he asked.</p> - -<p>We said it was awful, and that we were wondering what would happen next.</p> - -<p>"You ought to have seen Monsieur when he read it," went on Louis, -laughing at the recollection. "He got up, crumpled the paper into a -ball, and stormed about the place as if he were having a fit. I asked -him why he was so excited about it, and he immediately began to reel off -a lot about the 'balance of power' in Europe,—how it would be upset and -what Austria would be likely to do, where Russia would object and how -France might be affected, and a whole lot more that I couldn't begin to -understand. He's a great student of international politics, he says, and -this news seemed to upset him a lot. I'm sure I can't see why."</p> - -<p>The Imp poked me so hard in the ribs that I almost shrieked aloud, but I -saw at once what she must be thinking. <i>Are</i> Monsieur's plans upset by -this, I wonder? Or are we just imagining trouble where there is none? -I'm sure I don't know. But of one thing I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> certain. I never realized -how strange it would feel to go off for a picnic up the river in a -launch run by a boy in a pair of paint bespattered overalls, whose -ancestors sat on the throne of France and who might, in his turn, become -the future ruler of that country.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, I don't like it. I'm not happy, and I wish things were just as -they used to be. So does Carol, but I'm afraid the Imp enjoys all the excitement.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV</span> <span class="smaller">A SOLEMN CONCLAVE—AND WHAT CAME OF IT</span></h2> - -<p>It was a hot morning toward the middle of July. About nine o'clock three -girls might have been seen issuing from the Birdseys' gate, two carrying -between them a well-filled lunch-basket. The third,—none other than the -Imp,—bore a couple of shawls and two or three books, also a -thermos-bottle of large proportions.</p> - -<p>"I know you're not awfully keen about this picnic," she was saying to -the others, "but it's only because you're a lazy pair and desperately -afraid of getting a little overheated. It'll be cool and pleasant down -at the old boat-house on the river. We can put on bathing-suits and have -a swim first, and then eat our lunch when we feel like it."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>"But I don't see why you're so anxious for this picnic just to-day," -grumbled Carol. "It's blazing hot getting there, and we could have a -much more comfortable lunch at home and go for our swim this afternoon."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and I was planning to do a lot of work in the house this morning," -added Sue, discouragingly. "I wanted to rearrange my room and make that -new waist for which Mother gave me the material. I hate to have things -so upset."</p> - -<p>"Look here!" exploded the Imp. "Didn't I make all the sandwiches and -pack the lunch-basket and do every blessed thing for this picnic before -you were even out of bed? Do be a little grateful, just for once. I had -a reason, and a precious good one, for wanting to get off by ourselves -to-day. I want to talk over something with you."</p> - -<p>The other two pricked up their ears.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" they demanded, with an increase of interest.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," scolded the Imp, "you're anxious enough, now that you think -there's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>something worth while in it. I've a great mind not to tell -you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, go on, Imp!" soothed Carol. "You can't blame us for being a little -grumpy on this hot morning. Have you found out something new?"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you after we've had our swim," was all the Imp would -vouchsafe, and with that they were forced to be content. At the end of a -hot walk across the meadows in the blinding sun, they emerged on the -river bank at the cool little boat-house under the willows. Here they -donned bathing-suits and splashed about in the river for an hour. When -they were dressed again they lounged on the wide platform, amply shaded -by one immense willow that overhung the water. They were comfortable and -lazy and cool, and even the two reluctant ones acknowledged themselves -quite happy.</p> - -<p>"Well, let's have lunch," suggested the Imp, "and while we eat I'll tell -you what's been in my mind for several days."</p> - -<p>They spread out the sandwiches and fruit,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> and during the meal the Imp, -who had not put on her shoes and stockings, sat on the edge of the -platform and dabbled her feet in the water.</p> - -<p>"I guess I don't need to give you three guesses as to what I'm going to -speak of," she remarked, between two mouthfuls of a sandwich.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no; it's Monsieur, of course, and Louis," replied Sue. "Has -anything new come up? <i>I</i> haven't heard of anything. Louis has been away -at Bridgeton a lot, and I imagine he's been with that Page Calvin, -puttering around the old biplane he's always talking about. I've had a -mind to ask Dave, who certainly knows, but of course <i>he</i> wouldn't give -me any definite information. I think Louis is trying to pluck up courage -to begin work on that model, but he knows he'll have another awful fuss -with Monsieur when he does."</p> - -<p>"That isn't what <i>I</i> was going to talk about, anyway," said the Imp. "It -may all be true, but something more important has been on my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> mind for -several days. It's this: How much longer are we going to let this affair -go on, and do nothing about it?"</p> - -<p>"You've asked that before," remarked Sue, uncomfortably, "and I can't -for the life of me see what we <i>can</i> do."</p> - -<p>"You've made that brilliant remark before," replied the Imp, scornfully, -"and it doesn't help matters one bit. The point is that things have come -to such a state that something <i>has</i> to be done, and done pretty soon. I -had a little talk with Monsieur yesterday, and I'm going to tell you -some of the things he said. He was sitting out on that seat on the Green -about five o'clock in the afternoon, reading his paper. You and Carol -were off down at the village getting the mail, and I didn't have a thing -to do, so I strolled over to talk to him.</p> - -<p>"He began by saying the news was bad, very bad. I was sort of surprised, -because I'd looked at the paper every morning, and there hasn't been a -single exciting thing in it since that archduke what's-his-name was -assassinated some time ago. I thought that fuss had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> all blown over, but -Monsieur says it hasn't, and that Europe is on the verge of some -tremendous upheaval. He said that that murder was only the match that -would start the conflagration, or something like that. Anyhow, he ended -up with these words:</p> - -<p>"'I tell you, petite mademoiselle, I have seen it coming this long, long -time. Kingdoms will fall; republics will totter; the face of Europe will -be changed. France, France herself, will experience a mighty upheaval! -It is inevitable!'"</p> - -<p>The Imp stopped impressively, and her hearers were evidently thrilled.</p> - -<p>"What does he mean? What <i>can</i> he mean?" she went on, her voice -unconsciously rising higher and higher, "except that he's mixed up in -all this. If Austria and Russia and Germany and England and France are -all going to be in a big fuss, as he suggested, can't you see what a -lovely opportunity it would be for him to put through this scheme about -restoring the Bourbon monarchy? What else can he mean by saying, -'Republics will totter;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> France herself will experience a mighty -upheaval'? I tell you, girls, it's time this thing was reported to the -authorities. I'm sure our government could prevent it, if it only knew, -and then, too, if we really care anything about Louis, we ought to -protect him, even if he <i>is</i> a royalty,—I'm sure he doesn't <i>want</i> to -be one!—from being caught in all this mix-up."</p> - -<p>"But how can we report it to the authorities?" asked Carol, in a scared -voice. "I wouldn't know the first thing about how to go about it."</p> - -<p>"Then I'll tell you," announced the Imp, dramatically. "I don't believe -that in so important a thing as this we ought to stop short of the very -highest authority there is. I propose that we write to the President -himself. And I propose that we do it this very afternoon. I've thought -it all out. I've even brought along the things to do it with."</p> - -<p>True enough, she produced a fountain-pen and some notepaper. So -impressed were her hearers that Sue could only quaver, in a voice that -shook with nervousness:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>"Well, you go on and write it, Bobs. I'm sure you'll know what to say. -And we'll all sign it, if you wish. Perhaps that will make it look more -important. But somehow I feel as if we ought to tell Father first."</p> - -<p>"Then you'll spoil everything," declared the Imp. "He wouldn't believe -it, to begin with, and by the time he was convinced it would probably be -too late. No, this must go off to-night. How ought I to address the -President of the United States,—'Dear Sir' or 'Your Honor' or what?"</p> - -<p>"If mademoiselle will delay this proceeding for a moment," said a -strange voice with startling unexpectedness, almost at her elbow, "it -may not be necessary to write the note."</p> - -<p>The Imp turned about so abruptly that she dropped her fountain-pen into -the river. The two others, fairly turned to stone in their astonishment -and fright, sat motionless.</p> - -<p>It was Monsieur himself. He had emerged from the bushes close to the -water's edge, and now stood beside the platform of the boat-house. As no -one of the three sufficiently <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>recovered their wits to address him, he -went on:</p> - -<p>"I owe you a thousand apologies for this intrusion and for being an -unwilling eavesdropper. I came to a spot among the trees a short -distance away early this morning, before the sun was hot. I have often -been there before. The nook is a favorite one of mine. I bring my book -and Mademoiselle Yvonne contrives me a little lunch, so that I do not -have to go back in the heat of the day. I must have fallen asleep before -you arrived, for I was not aware of your proximity till I awoke. Then -you were eating your luncheon and conversing. I was about to make my -presence known to you, when I caught the drift of your conversation and -astonishment forced me to listen. Mesdemoiselles, I know not how you -have arrived at this conclusion, but I take it that you think me a -conspirator, a—a plotter against the government of one of the world's -greatest nations. You think it is your duty to report me to the -authorities of your country. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p>It seemed as if the three found it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>impossible to break their abashed -silence. At length the Imp plucked up sufficient courage.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I guess that's about it," she admitted, nervously.</p> - -<p>"Would you be so good as to inform me on what grounds?" he inquired, -with the courtesy that never failed him.</p> - -<p>The Imp glanced at her companions and back again to Monsieur. They were -plainly caught in a trap. Should she tell what she knew, or refuse point -blank? For an appreciable moment she hesitated. It was evident that if -they put Monsieur in possession of the facts, they also would put -themselves quite completely in his power. That would, on the face of it, -be a foolish proceeding. Yet how could they do less? There was something -about the old French gentleman's perfect courtesy and frankness that -disarmed even the suspicions of the Imp. While she hesitated, however, -Sue, to her own and every one else's astonishment, took up the cudgels -in his behalf.</p> - -<p>"I think it is only fair to tell Monsieur what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> we have been thinking," -she said in a trembling voice. "He may be able to show us that we are in -the wrong."</p> - -<p>Monsieur turned to her with a grave bow.</p> - -<p>"I am sure there is some misunderstanding," he declared. "I have heard -only enough to cause me to suspect that my actions and motives here may -have been misjudged." Then he turned once more to the Imp.</p> - -<p>"P'tite Mademoiselle Hélène, you and I have always, so I thought, been -the best of friends. May I not understand from you the cause of this -serious suspicion of me?"</p> - -<p>Then and there the Imp, her feet still unconsciously dabbling in the -river, told Monsieur in halting fashion the whole history of their -discoveries about the portrait and their consequent conjectures. He -listened to it all, an inscrutable expression in his eyes, till she had -finished. When the recital was over he stood quite still for several -moments, while the others waited breathlessly.</p> - -<p>"You are marvelous children—you Americans," he said at last, -"especially petite Hélène<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> here! Who would have dreamed that you could -piece together this story so accurately, with so little ground to work -on? Yes, so accurately, as far as its foundation goes, for there you are -right, astonishingly right. But, my good little friends, your premises -may be right, but your conclusions are most deplorably wrong."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean that we guessed right about the portrait and Louis, but -were wrong about what <i>you</i> intend to do?" demanded the Imp, scrambling -to her feet and approaching Monsieur excitedly.</p> - -<p>"I will permit you to judge of that after you have heard my story," -replied Monsieur. "For I will now put you in possession of the whole -truth, since you have discovered so much. Allow me, if you please, to -sit down, while I render this accounting of myself."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XV</span> <span class="smaller">MONSIEUR'S STORY</span></h2> - -<p>He stepped up to the platform and took a seat on one end of an old bench -that flanked one side of it. On the other end sat Carol and Sue. The -Imp, unable in her excitement to remain seated anywhere, stood near him, -her great, blue eyes wide with wonder. A catbird sang at intervals in -the willow above them, and the incessant <i>lap-lap</i> of the river ran like -a musical accompaniment in their ears. Not one of the three girls was -ever to forget this strange moment in their lives, not even its -beautiful setting.</p> - -<p>"It is hard for me to know just where to begin," Monsieur at length -broke the silence by saying. "But, as I have said, <i>mes enfants</i>, you -three have worked out for yourselves a difficult problem, so perhaps it -is best that I commence by telling you where you were right,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> and end by -pointing out where you erred. I hasten to begin.</p> - -<p>"It may have been a foolish whim of mine that I bring with me to this -country the three portraits that are so dear to me, and especially -foolish to leave the one unveiled. I had, however, my reason for that, -but I did not contemplate that the public was to be admitted to my room, -as it had to be during our—during Louis' serious accident. All this, -however, is beside the point. I will begin by telling you that I am not, -as you have so shrewdly suspected, this 'Monsieur de Vaubert' that I -call myself here. Truly, 'de Vaubert' is a part of my name, but it is -not all. In France I am known as the Marquis Philippe de Vaubert de -Fenouil. It is a title that is ancient and honorable. It goes back to -the time of Louis XIII—yes, and even before that. When our Louis -discovered the 'F' on my handkerchief, he was entirely right in his -surmises, and I was not very astute to leave it lying about. -<i>N'est-ce-pas?</i>"</p> - -<p>He smiled deprecatingly at his three <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>listeners, with a smile so -genuine, so utterly friendly, that they found their dark suspicions -melting away, even before his tale was well begun.</p> - -<p>"To go back to the portrait, however. Yes, it is a very beautiful copy -of Madame Lebrun's original. It was executed many years ago by an -exceedingly clever copyist, and I doubt if many would know it from the -original. It is my dearest possession. I will tell you why.</p> - -<p>"My little friend, petite Hélène here, by her wonderful ingenuity and -perception has deduced the conjecture that the ill-used dauphin, who -should have been Louis XVII, did not die in the Temple Tower, as history -has recorded it. There have, indeed, been many legends to that effect. -But the truest one, the truth, was never known to the world. There are -remaining to-day but two families who are in possession of the -facts,—my own and that of our friends the Meadows, whose real name, as -you perhaps know, is Mettot. All the rest of that wonderful brotherhood -which helped to rescue him are dead and gone, and the secret is dead -with them.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p><p>"In order that you may fully understand, I will now give you a short -account of the real story of the dauphin's rescue. As you know through -your researches, after Simon the Cobbler was released from the care of -the young king, the dauphin was placed in a small room and completely -isolated from the world by bolts and bars. Not even his jailers saw him, -only hearing him speak through an aperture in the door. It was the most -inhuman treatment of a child that the world has known, and it is a -thousand wonders that the boy survived. But he did. At the end of an -awful six months, when Robespierre himself was sent to the guillotine -and Barras came into power, the boy was removed from this horrible -incarceration and brought to a large, clean room, where he was taken -care of by two or three guardians chosen for their humanity and -kindliness.</p> - -<p>"It was at this period that a plot was formed by a league of -warmhearted, loyal men,—not only royalists, but republicans, too,—to -rescue the dauphin from his long imprisonment and send him somewhere, -possibly out of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>country, to live out the rest of his life in peace. -This league was known as 'The Brotherhood of Liberation,' and the world -to-day would stand amazed, did it know the members, the many <i>famous</i> -members, who composed it. It has even been whispered that Barras himself -and the great Napoleon Bonaparte—then young, poor, and comparatively -unknown—were concerned in this plot. All that, however, is as it may -be.</p> - -<p>"But the main thing is this. The brotherhood was accustomed to meet -secretly at the house of my grandfather, another Marquis de Fenouil, in -Paris, for he was one of the chief leaders and originators of the -scheme. Among them was a young fellow scarcely more than five years -older than the dauphin, one Jean Mettot, who was deeply and devotedly -interested in the plan. It seems that he and his little foster-sister, -Yvonne Clouet, had once become acquainted with the dauphin as he played -in happier years in his garden of the Tuileries. Through his -intervention, the queen, Marie Antoinette herself, had given the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> young -fellow's foster-mother quite a large sum to defray the overdue taxes on -her home and thus enable her to keep it for her children. So grateful -was this poor washerwoman, Mère Clouet, and her little daughter Yvonne -and her foster-son, Jean Mettot, whom she had adopted from the foundling -hospital, that they had vowed to help the poor, ill-used dauphin, even -to the extent of risking their lives for him.</p> - -<p>"It was Jean Mettot who played one of the most important roles in the -plan to smuggle the dauphin out of the Temple Tower. He was employed in -that citadel as cook's assistant, and thus was able to give aid right on -the spot, as it were. One of the dauphin's three guardians, Gomin, had -also become a member of the brotherhood, else the plan could never have -been carried out.</p> - -<p>"On a given day a sick child who greatly resembled the dauphin was -smuggled into the Tower in a basket of clean linen brought by Mère -Clouet, laundress for the Temple. This child was so ill that there was -no possibility of his recovery. He was speedily substituted for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> the -dauphin, who was carried up to the great unused attic of the Temple. -There he was kept for several weeks, unknown to the world and tended -only by Jean Mettot. When the sick child at length passed away, the -authorities proclaimed that the dauphin was dead and that there was no -further need to guard the Tower. It was then that the <i>real</i> dauphin was -smuggled out of the Temple in a basket of soiled linen and taken to the -home of the Clouets, where he remained for several days. He was finally -removed by some of the members of the brotherhood in high authority, and -was sent to a distant and obscure corner of France to be cared for and -brought up, under an assumed name, by humble people. The brotherhood was -then disbanded, being first sworn to secrecy by an inviolable oath never -to reveal what had been done.</p> - -<p>"The boy, Jean Mettot, later became a soldier in Napoleon's army and -rose to the rank of officer. He finally married little Yvonne Clouet, -and, as you have doubtless surmised, this John Meadows whom you know is -his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>descendant,—his grandson, in short. The original Jean Mettot, -however, and my grandfather, the marquis, kept closely in touch with -each other for a time, drawn together by their mutual love and loyalty -to the little dauphin. It was Jean Mettot alone who, several years after -the escape of the dauphin, was summoned by that young man to Havre, in -order that the dauphin might bid farewell to his rescuer. The dauphin -was sailing for America, never to return. He intended, he said, to live -there incognito, in some obscure capacity, as he had no desire ever to -return to France and certainly never wished to rule over that nation.</p> - -<p>"Jean Mettot later attempted to communicate the news of the dauphin's -departure to my grandfather, but found that he had suddenly passed away -and that his son had assumed the title. As Mettot was not certain -whether the secret had been handed down to the son, he did not reveal -his news. Many years later, when he was a middle-aged man, the notion -took hold of him to go to America and see if he could discover any trace -of the dauphin. He had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> nothing whatever to assist him, except the -assumed name of the dauphin, 'Louis Charles Durant,' and the fact that -the ship on which he had sailed had been bound for a New England port. I -think it was Boston. With only these two points to aid him, he sailed -for America to engage in his almost hopeless task.</p> - -<p>"In all the years he had heard not so much as one syllable from the -exile, but even this did not discourage him. He began his search in New -England, shrewdly suspecting that 'Louis Durant' might not have traveled -very far from his first landing-place. Many weeks and months of -absolutely useless and fruitless effort followed. No one in any of the -large cities, or even in the smaller towns, seemed to have heard of -'Louis Charles Durant' or of any one corresponding to his description. -It was by sheer accident—when Jean Mettot's horse (he made it a -practice to travel about on horseback) went lame one stormy night right -by your Paradise Green—that he was forced to ask for a night's shelter -in one of the only two houses on the Green at that time. It was on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> the -door of the Durant house that he knocked, and none other than the -dauphin himself opened it!"</p> - -<p>At this point in the narrative Sue and Carol breathed a long sigh of -intense interest, and the Imp came closer and rested her hand on -Monsieur's knee.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is marvelous, is it not?" he went on. "There is a proverb which -says, 'Truth is stranger than fiction,' and I have always found it so. I -leave you to imagine the meeting between those two, for they quickly -recognized each other. After a time Mettot heard the whole story from -the dauphin. It ran like this:</p> - -<p>"He had come to America, landing in New England and wandering about for -a time, almost penniless and earning his way as he went by doing odds -and ends of labor for the farmers. Singularly enough, he enjoyed it. -Does it seem strange to you, <i>mes enfants</i>, that a king should enjoy -himself in this fashion? Ah, but he no longer wished to be a king! Not -for all the riches of the earth would he have gone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> back to his country -and assumed his rightful title. His terrible childhood years in prison -had given him a longing only for freedom and independence of thought and -action and a desire for the most absolute simplicity of life.</p> - -<p>"To Jean Mettot he confided how at length he had drifted out to this -present farmstead, had apprenticed himself to the good farmer who owned -it, and how for several years he had served him faithfully and well for -a sum that was a mere pittance, but on which he could live happily. Two -years later the farmer's daughter, who had married some time before, -came home to her father's house a widow. After a time she and the -dauphin became mutually attracted to each other and married. Six months -after their marriage the farmer died, leaving his farm to his daughter -and her husband, the unknown dauphin. At the time of Jean Mettot's visit -they had a fine little son, then ten or twelve years old, and were as -happy and contented as could well be imagined.</p> - -<p>"Mettot made them quite an extended visit, but never did the dauphin -reveal to his wife<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> that he had ever known Mettot before, or give the -least hint of his own identity. He said that he preferred these things -to remain secrets forever, buried in the past. He told Mettot that he -desired his descendants to remain in complete ignorance of his past and -of their own origin. Should a crisis ever arise (now unforeseen by him), -when it would be wise for any of his descendants to know their -forefather's history, he had prepared for such an emergency a document -which he had securely hidden away. He acquainted Jean with its -hiding-place and gave him permission to transmit the secret to his own -descendants. On no account, however, was it to be communicated to the -dauphin's descendants, unless the aforementioned crisis should arise.</p> - -<p>"Jean Mettot went back to France, and never again saw the son of Louis -XVI. But he continued to keep in touch with 'Louis Charles Durant' of -America, and to his own son he communicated the strange secret. And his -son, in turn, communicated it to a son of his own, the present Jean -Meadows whom you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> know. The dauphin died when he was scarcely more than -middle-aged, for his constitution was never robust after the cruel -hardships of his childhood. The son whom he left lived to a ripe old age -on the same farm, and left an heir in his place to continue the line. -This child, the father of our own Louis, becoming discontented, as he -reached manhood, with the life on a simple New England farm, leased the -property, as you probably know, and went out West to make his fortune. -He married a young western girl on the Canadian frontier, and both were -mortally injured in a terrible accident on one of the Great Lakes' -steamers. He had time, however, before he died, to send word to France, -to this present Jean Mettot, leaving their baby son in his care. The two -families had always kept in touch, though none of the present generation -had seen each other.</p> - -<p>"I am sure you must be wondering during all this recital where <i>I</i> come -into the story. It is about time for me to make my entrance. That is -what I am about to disclose. Mettot and his daughter Yvonne, on hearing -the sad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> news, forsook all and came to America to take possession of the -baby, which was still being cared for at the hospital where its parents -had died. The Mettot family had not prospered with the years, the -present Jean's father having unfortunately lost the modest fortune that -the original Jean had amassed. They were living in a humble way in a -small French village, and had practically sacrificed everything to come -over to America on what they considered an almost sacred charge.</p> - -<p>"What, then, was to be done? Jean Mettot cast about in his mind for some -time, considering the matter, but at length came to the conclusion that -the crisis, spoken of by the original dauphin, had now arrived and that -the time was come to disclose the secret to some one. But to whom? That -was the great question. Suddenly he bethought himself of me, the present -Marquis de Fenouil. He had not the slightest idea whether the secret of -the dauphin's escape had been transmitted in our family, but, taking the -risk, he wrote me a full account of the whole proceeding, throwing the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> -present little orphan, so to speak, on my mercy.</p> - -<p>"And now at last I enter. I cannot, indeed, give you the slightest idea -what this wonderful news meant to me. The secret <i>had</i> been -transmitted,—aye, it had become a sacred tradition in our family! Many -long and fruitless searches had we made,—I, my father, and my -grandfather before us,—to trace, if possible, the fate of that lost -dauphin. Not one of us but would have sacrificed his all to have made -sure of the after-history of our adored little monarch. The portrait -that you have seen, and those of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, which I -have always kept veiled, have been our most cherished family -possessions, especially that of the dauphin. We worshipped the memory of -that heroic little uncrowned monarch.</p> - -<p>"Can you then understand what it meant to me to find myself at last on -the track of a true descendant of the dauphin? For a time I could -scarcely credit it. But I knew from my grandfather the part played by -the original Jean Mettot, and I could see no reason to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> doubt that this -tale of his descendant was genuine. My first impulse was to send for -them at once, and to bring the child up as my own son, till he should be -of suitable age to disclose the secret to him. But there were a number -of strong objections to that course. I need not mention them all. One is -sufficient. For the past twenty years I have not been strong. My health -is only sustained by constant treatment from physicians, and I spend -three quarters of my time at sanitariums and health resorts. I am -seldom, if ever, in residence at my French estate. There were a number -of other legal reasons why it was not wise for me to appear to adopt a -child, presumably as my heir, which you would scarcely understand, so I -will not recount them. Suffice it to say that I decided on a course -which may seem strange to you, but which appealed to me as wisest at the -time.</p> - -<p>"The child was a mere baby, not yet a year old. I concluded that for the -present it would be best to leave him in America, the land that his -kingly ancestor had chosen to adopt. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> Jean Mettot's name I leased the -same Durant farmhouse that belonged to his father and that one day would -be his own, sent the Mettots there with their infant charge, and -instructed them to bring up the boy in ignorance of his real ancestry, -until such time as I should deem it best to come over to America and -take charge of his affairs. They have worthily fulfilled that charge, -having kept me constantly informed of his growth and progress.</p> - -<p>"In truth, I never supposed the interval would be so long before I -should find it possible to come here. One matter after another,—my -health chiefly,—has delayed me from year to year, though I have planned -the trip more times than I care to count. During this past year, -however, the news sent by our friends the Mettots proved somewhat -disturbing to me. In order to explain this, I must now disclose to you -my plans for 'Louis Charles Durant.' They are, as you will see, far from -any schemes to restore the Bourbon monarchy in France. That would be in -direct opposition to the wishes of the dead dauphin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> No, I wished him -to learn of his wonderful ancestry secretly, and only as something to be -proud of. I wished him to grow up as my own son, and, when the time was -ripe, I would legally adopt him. At first there were several obstacles -in the way, but these have lately been removed. In my own heart, -however, he would never be my son, but the <i>king</i> who should rightfully -have ruled over me. I wished him to study statecraft and become a great -political light—a French statesman—and perhaps some day make a great -name in the world. He should be a king of men in deed and act, if he -could not be in name and right. These were my ambitions for him. I felt -that he <i>must</i> fall in with them."</p> - -<p>The three listeners stirred uneasily, and the catbird in the tree above -them uttered its odd, mournful cry. Monsieur paused a few seconds to -gaze out over the blue heat-haze on the river. Then he went on:</p> - -<p>"It was, therefore, disturbing tidings that I began to receive from Jean -Mettot. At first his reports had been satisfactory in every <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>respect. -The boy was upright, manly, and entirely lovable in nature. Up to his -tenth or twelfth year he had developed no traits that would seem in -opposition to my plans for him. But of late my news of him had been very -unwelcome to me. To begin with, he openly avowed that he cared nothing -for France or French history and traditions. He was American to the -core, and he actually boasted of it. This was not surprising, however, -considering the fact that he had been born and brought up in this land. -I promised myself that this difficulty would be easily overcome later. -But there was something that troubled me more.</p> - -<p>"The Mettots began to report that the boy was developing a strongly -<i>mechanical</i> turn of mind, that he was constantly working with tools and -contriving unique devices of his own for various mechanical -purposes,—in short, that he was following directly in the footsteps of -the unfortunate Louis XVI. It has always been my contention that if that -monarch had devoted himself more to the affairs of his kingdom and less -to puttering about with tools and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> locks, he never would have lost his -throne. It was an ominous sign to me. But even then I hoped that it -might prove merely a childish whim and fade away into other interests as -the years progressed. It did not, as you very well know. I now feel it -to be a family inheritance, impossible to overcome. I have resigned -myself to it, only praying that in time other matters more important may -overgrow and stifle the tendency.</p> - -<p>"But I also realized that the day could no longer be delayed when I must -make the trip across the ocean and see with my own eyes the -great-grandson of our long-lost dauphin. Perhaps you think it strange -that I did not send for him to be brought to me. But I had my reasons -for that, also. I wished to see the boy in his natural environment. I -wished him to know nothing of me. I wished to study him and learn his -character, watch him at his work and play, observe him with his friends, -and discover for myself his ambitions and tendencies. How could I know -that I would really care for him <i>personally</i>, or he for me, unless I -followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> this course? I loved him already for his <i>ancestry</i>, but I -wished to love him, if possible, for <i>himself</i>. And as I am an old, -childless, lonely man, I wished him to love me for <i>myself</i>. Only by -coming here incognito, I deemed, could this be accomplished.</p> - -<p>"Well, <i>mes enfants</i>, I came. The history of my stay here you are fairly -well acquainted with. At first, I confess, I was bitterly disappointed. -The boy was a fine, upstanding, splendid specimen of American boyhood, -but he was thoroughly <i>American</i>. He resembled in no way that I could -see, facially at least, the portrait that I had brought with me. That, -of course, was entirely natural; yet I was disappointed. At times I -thought I could discern a fleeting resemblance, but it was always -fleeting. Only at the time when he was so ill did I seem to see in him a -resemblance to the little dauphin after he had been some time in -prison."</p> - -<p>At this point the three girls glanced at each other, and, noticing the -exchanged look, Monsieur went on:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, that is what I meant by the 'Temple look,' which remark you say -Louis overheard. But to proceed. The worst disappointment, however, was -that terrible mechanical trait, a trait I found it impossible to -overcome and to which I have now resigned myself. We had our quarrels -and disputes over that subject, as you know, but at last I felt myself -unable to cope with so strong a passion. I pass on to other things.</p> - -<p>"I need scarcely tell you that during these passing months I have come -to care deeply and tenderly for this boy. He may be different, entirely -different from my ideal of him, but I have come to recognize his fine, -genuine manliness, the entire lovableness of his character. His attitude -toward me has never deviated from the courteous and thoughtful and -attentive, except in the one instance of his boat, and I myself was at -fault there! I feel that he is even developing a sort of fondness for me -with the passing of time. When you realize that he knows nothing -whatever of my real identity or my object in coming here (I think he -rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> suspects both at times), this is all the more admirable. As for -my feeling for him, I <i>adore</i> him, mesdemoiselles,—I can say no more. -He is the worthy descendant of a king, even though he be not <i>French</i> in -anything but ancestry.</p> - -<p>"You can easily see, then, what it meant to me when he made that -astonishing announcement a few weeks ago. Could anything be more -unutterably terrible for me to hear than that this most dangerous of all -careers should be the chosen one of my adopted son-to-be? It is -incredible to me, even yet. I am praying daily that the whim shall pass -from him. In the first shock of it I thought that the time had come for -me to disclose the truth to him, whether I was ready to do so or not. -Yet on second thought I again hesitated. There is one link in the chain -that is still missing. It is for that I am waiting, for I do not wish -him to be made acquainted with the secret till I can lay the complete -evidence before him.</p> - -<p>"You remember, perhaps, that I spoke of a document, prepared by the -dauphin and hidden by him in some spot, the secret of which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> he -disclosed only to the original Jean Mettot. It was his wish that the -document be found and delivered to his descendants, should a crisis ever -arise when it would be deemed necessary to disclose the secret to them. -That document, I am sorry to say, we have as yet been unable to -discover. The original Mettot wrote the directions for finding the -hiding-place in a sealed letter and left it with his son, who, in turn, -left it in care of our John Meadows. Unfortunately, when this John -Meadows and his daughter came to America they failed to bring the letter -with them, because they supposed that they would return at once to -France. More unfortunately still, since they have been here their little -home was burned to the ground, and the letter, of course, disappeared in -the conflagration. Meadows himself never read the letter, and he has -only a vague remembrance that his grandfather once said in his hearing, -when he was only a small child, that he believed the hiding-place to be -somewhere near a chimney. That is absolutely the only clue we have had -to work on.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>"I need not tell you that the search for that document has been -unceasing since I first arrived, and even before that. Every nook and -cranny, from attic to cellar, has been ransacked without the slightest -result. Unless the house itself is torn down, I see no possible hope of -finding it. However, I do not yet utterly despair; and when the document -does come to light, I will make the great disclosure to Louis and -formulate my future plans. Circumstances <i>may</i> be such, however, that I -shall have to put him in possession of the secret before the document is -found. I should be sorry for that, as I wish him to feel that our -evidence concerning this strange story is complete.</p> - -<p>"And now, my friends, you know it all. I have hidden nothing from you. I -have shown you my inmost heart. I have only one request—that you still -keep this thing a secret from every one, especially from Louis."</p> - -<p>He stopped, and there was silence. The catbird above them had flown -away. The river was unruffled by the slightest breath. The water had -ceased its <i>lap-lap</i>. The afternoon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> stillness was complete. Carol and -Sue sat motionless in their corner, their hands clasped, their eyes wide -and intent.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the Imp flung herself to the ground and buried her face on the -old French gentleman's knees, a passion of choking sobs shaking her -little body. He laid his hand on her head and murmured in a startled -voice:</p> - -<p>"Little one, little one! What is it that troubles you?"</p> - -<p>"O Monsieur, Monsieur!" she gasped. "What a little <i>beast</i> I've been! -Can you ever forgive me? <i>How</i> I have misjudged you!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI</span> <span class="smaller">AUGUST FOURTH, 1914</span></h2> - -<p>July 27, 1914. It is ten days since that strange afternoon down at the -old boat-house on the river. I have been living in a kind of dream ever -since. I cannot somehow believe that I'm just plain, ordinary Susan -Birdsey, living on out-of-the-way little Paradise Green, to whom nothing -unusual ever has or ever will happen. Paradise Green is no longer the -prosaic place it was. It is the secret spot chosen by history as the -home of one of her most romantic characters. Who would ever have thought -it? And I, Susan Birdsey, am one of the three humble persons Fate has -chosen to be the sharer of this marvelous secret.</p> - -<p>I cannot help thinking of what Miss Cullingford said when she suggested -that we keep a journal,—that some journals had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>interesting and -valuable additions to history. That, at least, is what I never supposed -mine could possibly be. And yet, if she could only see it <i>now</i>! But she -never will, of course, nor any one else, for I have promised Monsieur -that I will never, without his permission, reveal a single word of what -he has told us. This is not, he says, because it would harm any one, or -make the slightest change in the world's affairs, but because of the -poor "lost dauphin's" wish.</p> - -<p>We three have talked of it incessantly,—Carol, the Imp, and I. Somehow -the wonder of it never grows any less. That such a thing <i>could</i> happen -here, here on little Paradise Green! And yet the Imp says it is no new -thing in history for an exiled king to hide himself away in a strange -country amid the humblest surroundings. Where <i>does</i> she get all these -historical facts, anyway? Even Carol, who is fond of history and reads a -lot of it, doesn't know half as much about things as the Imp does. I am -changing my opinion of the Imp very much lately. I used to think she was -such a scatter-brained, harum-scarum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> child, without a serious thought -in her head. But I guess we really didn't <i>know</i> her then, and misjudged -her a lot.</p> - -<p>But it's Louis, our Louis, who seems to us the strangest, the most -impossible thing to believe. Before we heard Monsieur's story we -imagined this about him, but half the time we told ourselves it wasn't, -it <i>couldn't</i> be true. We <i>must</i> be on the wrong track, we said. Now we -know that it is all true, and Louis can never be "our Louis," the friend -we've always known, any more. How could he be? To begin with, he's going -to be the adopted son of the Marquis de Fenouil (I <i>hope</i> that's the way -to spell it!), a great nobleman of France, and go away to France and -inherit a title, and probably we'll never see him again as long as we -live. In addition, as if that weren't enough, he's not the plain -American boy we always thought him, but the great-great-grandson of a -king of France. And <i>we</i> know this, even if the rest of the world does -not, and can never, never feel on the same footing with him again. Not -that that will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> make any difference, I suppose, if he's to go away from -here for good. But it's like losing your brother,—like losing Dave, for -instance,—only Dave never has been, especially of late years, as -friendly and near to us as Louis has been.</p> - -<p>We have seen almost nothing of Louis since that day with Monsieur. He -has been to Bridgeton every day, spending the time, I'm perfectly -certain, with that Page Calvin and his miserable aëroplane. It makes me -perfectly sick to think of it, especially since Monsieur has told us -everything. By the way, I can't get out of the habit of calling him -"Monsieur," but it's just as well, I suppose, because we're not supposed -to know he's anything else. Of course Louis doesn't realize what all -this means to the old gentleman, but if he only knew that it was fairly -breaking his heart, I do believe he'd be willing to give up the -dangerous scheme and take to something else. I feel sure Monsieur -suspects why he's away at Bridgeton, but he never says a word to -us,—just suffers in silence.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>The Imp sees Monsieur and talks to him very often as he sits on his -favorite bench on the Green. He sits there a great deal, on that bench -under the big elm, and reads his paper and watches us play tennis. -Sometimes we all go over and talk to him, but he never says a word about -what he told us that day on the river,—not, at least, when we're all -together with him. He does speak of it sometimes to the Imp when they're -alone. She says that to-day he told her that the situation in Europe is -very grave. He is certain that Austria is about to declare war on -Serbia, and that if she does, the whole of Europe will be involved. -There will be the most awful conflict the world has ever known, if this -happens.</p> - -<p>The Imp asked him if France was likely to go into it, too, and he said -he did not see how this could be avoided; France would always do what -was right. But here's the worst. He says that if France declares war, he -will have to return immediately, since important political matters will -demand it, and he intends to tell Louis the whole truth and take him -back with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> him. That piece of news seems perfectly ghastly to us, and -yet I honestly don't see how Monsieur can do anything else.</p> - -<p>I felt to-day, after hearing this from the Imp, that I simply must -understand this European situation for myself, so I got the daily paper -and read up everything I could find about it. But I have to confess that -I was not much wiser after I had read it than I was before. So I went to -the Imp and asked her if she could explain the thing. She said:</p> - -<p>"Why, it's this way. Monsieur has told me all about it. Austria -considers that she's got to make Serbia get down on her knees and beg -pardon, because an Austrian archduke was killed there. So Austria's sent -Serbia a note proposing all sorts of concessions that Serbia will never -stand for in the world. The Serbians answered that note yesterday, and -were willing to make whatever reparation they could about the archduke, -but they won't hear of some of the other things. Austria wants the -'whole hog,' or nothing, so of course she'll take this opportunity to -declare war. Russia has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> always sort of sympathized with the Serbians, -so if they get into trouble, she's going to give them a hand. And -Monsieur says she's already mobilizing her troops. Germany is in a -compact always to help Austria out, so that's where <i>she</i> comes in. -Monsieur says Germany's been waiting forty years for this opportunity to -get gay and let loose on Europe, so she isn't going to let such a lovely -chance as this pass." (These are the Imp's words, not Monsieur's, I feel -certain!) "And France has a compact to be an ally of Russia, and -England's in that, too, so you can easily see what a beautiful -parrot-and-monkey time it's going to be!"</p> - -<p>The situation is a little clearer to me now, I'll admit, but the whole -thing makes me terribly depressed. I'm glad I don't see much of Louis -now. I simply cannot be with him and act naturally, as if nothing were -out of the ordinary. I cannot face him and think who he really is, and -keep the wonder and pain and bewilderment of it out of my expression. So -perhaps it's a good thing he's away so much.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p class="space-above">August 1, 1914. Austria declared war on Serbia a few days ago. The Imp, -in a terrible state of excitement, rushed up to my room with the paper -that morning to announce the news. But we've had worse since, and it's -all turning out as Monsieur said it would. We—that is, the Imp, Carol, -and I—were all going into Bridgeton to the circus to-day, but we've -given it up. None of us seemed to have the heart for that kind of a lark -in the face of what is going on and what it means for Louis. He still -unsuspectingly goes off to see Page Calvin every day, and never gives -the European situation a thought, I'm certain. Of course he can't for a -moment imagine that it will have any bearing on <i>his</i> affairs.</p> - -<p>The Imp told us to-day that Miss Yvonne is not a bit well. She's had a -nervous breakdown of some kind. Monsieur thinks it's because of this -awful state of affairs in Europe, and also because they can't seem to -find the least trace of those papers. That has been preying on her mind -for a long time. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> thinks it's her fault and her father's that they -didn't bring that letter with them from France. It really wasn't, -because they came away in such a hurry, without knowing much about the -actual circumstances. Nevertheless, she is continually worrying about -it.</p> - -<p>We told Mother she was ill, and Mother and the Imp went over to see her -yesterday. They took her some grape conserve and some raised biscuits -we'd just baked, and they said she seemed awfully grateful for the -attention. The Imp said she seemed more <i>human</i> than she ever had -before, and more communicative, too,—not about any of their secret -affairs, of course, but on general topics. She says her eyes bother her -a lot, so the Imp offered to come over every day and read the paper to -her, and she actually said she'd like it.</p> - -<p>Louis's birthday comes in a few days—on August fourth—and we're -planning a little surprise-party for him. We're going over there early -in the morning,—Dave, Carol, the Imp, and I,—and just casually ask him -to walk across the fields to the old boat-house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> with us. When we get -there we're going to suggest to him that he take us out in the launch -for a while. And when we get back we're going to produce a big spread -that we'll have previously hidden in the boat-house, and have a regular -feast on the platform. In the middle of it all we're going to present -Louis with a gold watch-fob that we all chipped in for, and Monsieur is -going to give him the most beautiful watch. Monsieur, of course, is to -be a member of this party. The Imp asked him, and he seemed delighted -with the idea. Under ordinary circumstances, I would consider it the -greatest lark, but as things are, it seems as if I could hardly endure -it—to sit there all day and look at Louis and think what he's soon -going to learn from Monsieur.</p> - -<p class="space-above">August 4, 1914. The worst has happened, the <i>very</i> worst! It makes me -sick beyond words to read what I last wrote here—about having a -surprise-party, a <i>picnic</i>! It was a surprise-party right enough, but -the surprise was very much on our side, after all. We all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> started over -for Louis's this morning, just as we'd planned. We'd been up at six -o'clock, carrying the "feed" (as the Imp calls it) down to the -boat-house, and everything was quite ready. At the last minute Dave -couldn't go over with us, because Father had some urgent errand he -wanted him to attend to in Bridgeton, but he promised to join us later.</p> - -<p>I confess that we weren't any of us as hilarious over this party as we'd -ordinarily be, for we all feel a lot depressed about this thing. But we -hadn't a suspicion of what was ahead of us.</p> - -<p>We'd hoped to see Monsieur or Louis around outside, but no one was -anywhere in sight. So we knocked at the front door, and Louis came and -opened it.</p> - -<p>In all my life I'll never forget how that poor fellow looked. He was -<i>stricken</i>! I can't think of any other word that expresses it so well. -He didn't seem surprised to see us, but instead of inviting us inside, -said:</p> - -<p>"Come out on the Green and sit on our old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> bench for a few minutes, will -you? I've something to tell you."</p> - -<p>We followed him in dead silence, and we felt that something awful, must -have happened.</p> - -<p>"Have you seen the morning papers?" Louis asked, when we were seated.</p> - -<p>"No," I said. "What's the matter?"</p> - -<p>"<i>France has declared war!</i>" he answered.</p> - -<p>Somehow he didn't need to say another word. We knew the whole thing. It -had come at last. There wasn't one of us who could think of a word to -say, not even the Imp, though she's usually quick enough with a reply. -But this time she seemed struck dumb.</p> - -<p>After we'd all sat there for what seemed like six months, Louis said:</p> - -<p>"I've heard the whole story from Mon— I mean from the marquis. I know -that you know it, too. He told me so. I understand that he didn't intend -to tell me to-day,—that you were going to give me a surprise-party for -my birthday. Thank you, girls, all the same. I—I—"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>He couldn't say any more just then, but sat staring away at nothing.</p> - -<p>"It was the news in the paper that changed it all," he went on at last. -"Germany has invaded French territory and violated the neutrality of -Belgium, so of course the war is inevitable. The marquis is much excited -and has to go back at once to offer his estates and his assistance to -the government. I shall go with him."</p> - -<p>He said all this in the strangest way, in a sort of dull, monotonous -voice, as if he'd just learned it by heart and hadn't the slightest -interest in it. It was the Imp who spoke first.</p> - -<p>"Louis," she said, very quietly, "were you sorry to hear about—about -that other matter?"</p> - -<p>He didn't answer for a minute, and just sat looking off into space -again. Finally he said, in the same monotonous voice:</p> - -<p>"It's <i>killing</i> me!"</p> - -<p>"But, Louis," I found the courage to say, "it's really a wonderful -thing. You ought to be proud of it."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p><p>"Proud of <i>what</i>?" he demanded fiercely.</p> - -<p>"Of—of being the descendant of a French king," I said.</p> - -<p>"I've been proud as Lucifer all my life to be an <i>American</i>," he -answered. "What are French kings to me? And I <i>am</i> an American, too! Not -a thing he's said can make me anything else. I don't care if my ancestor -did come here from France. Every American's ancestors came from -somewhere else, if you go back far enough. That doesn't alter things."</p> - -<p>"Yes, that is perfectly true. You are just as much an American as ever," -I admitted, thinking of that side of it for the first time. "But if -that's so, I can't see what you're so down-hearted about."</p> - -<p>"What do you think it means to me to give up all my plans and ambitions -in life and go over to France and become a French nobleman by adoption; -to devote myself to every interest but the one I'm wrapped up in and -fitted for during all the rest of my days?"</p> - -<p>"But, Louis," began the Imp, "if you feel so—strongly about it, why do -you have to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> it? Couldn't you persuade Monsieur to let you do -something else? He's simply devoted to you. Surely he'd be willing to -meet <i>your</i> wishes, somehow."</p> - -<p>"You don't understand," answered Louis. "Can't you see that I'm under an -absolute <i>obligation</i> to meet his wishes? I'd be an ungrateful brute, if -I did anything else. You must realize what his ancestor did for mine. I -wouldn't be in existence to-day, if it hadn't been for what the original -marquis did to help the—the dauphin to escape. Why, I'm also under a -tremendous obligation to the Mettots for the same reason. And then, -there's something else you don't know about that makes it even worse. I -haven't a cent in this world, nor ever have had, that hasn't been -supplied by Mon—by the marquis."</p> - -<p>"You had this farm, didn't you?" I interrupted, for Louis has always -told us that this farm was his, or at least would be his when he came of -age. That was all the Mettots had ever told him about his affairs.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes; so I thought!" he answered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>bitterly. "But of course I didn't -know that my father had died deeply in debt, leaving this place -mortgaged to the hilt. I would never have owned a penny of it if the -marquis hadn't stepped in and redeemed it, paying every cent of the -expenses of my bringing up. Why, the very pocket-money I've had was his, -and I always supposed it was the proceeds from the sales of our -garden-truck. Oh, I'm tied hand and foot by the deepest of obligations! -There's nothing else to do. I'm helpless."</p> - -<p>We all were silent for a long time after that. I, for my part, couldn't -think of one thing more to say. Louis was resigned and quiet and utterly -hopeless. And to try and comfort him and put the best side on things was -a perfect farce. None of us attempted it.</p> - -<p>"When do you go?" I asked, presently.</p> - -<p>"In a week or so," he said. "As soon as things can be arranged. -Monsieur—I mean the marquis—has asked me to beg that we be excused -from the surprise-party, in view of what has happened. I don't know what -he means by that, but probably you do. He also<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> wished me to explain to -you that you are at liberty to tell any one you wish that I am to go to -France to become his adopted son, but that the other secret you will -always kindly keep to yourselves."</p> - -<p>"Louis," said the Imp, "we were going to have a surprise-party for you -at the boat-house to-day because it was your birthday, but I guess the -surprise is on us. Anyhow, here's a little trifle we wanted to give you, -but we hadn't intended to present it in <i>this</i> way. You'll understand, -though."</p> - -<p>She handed Louis the watch-fob, and he took it in a sort of dazed, -unseeing way. But he thanked us a lot, adding that Monsieur had given -him the watch after they had had their interview.</p> - -<p>"I'll never forget you," he said, "and you needn't think because I have -to go to France that I'm not going to see you again, either. I'm coming -back here as often as I can manage it, and I'll be the same old Louis. -You'll see!" This thought seemed to give him the only comfort he had.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>"But what about the Meadows?" asked Carol.</p> - -<p>"Oh, they're going, too, of course," Louis answered. "Their mission here -is over now. The marquis is going to close the house, but he's granted, -as a concession to me, that he'll keep it, and not sell it or even rent -it to any one else. There I can come back to it once in a while, and -live in the old way for a time. He's an awfully good sort, I will say, -and is only doing this because he sees I'm all broken up over things. -Well, I must go back to help him send off despatches and pack. It's a -hateful job. Come over and see Aunt Yvonne. She's upset over this, and -instead of feeling joyful, as I should suppose she would, is quite -miserable over something. I can't understand what it is, though."</p> - -<p>Louis went off directly across the Green. It was heartbreaking to watch -him.</p> - -<p>But the Imp says that one thing is certain. They evidently haven't told -Louis about those papers that can't be found.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII</span> <span class="smaller">THE IMP MAKES A LAST DISCOVERY</span></h2> - -<p>A burning August sun shone down pitilessly on the parched brown grass -and dusty roads about Paradise Green. The great elms stood absolutely -motionless in the stifling air. Into this merciless atmosphere, quite -early in the morning of August 12, emerged three girls, bound for the -home of Louis Durant.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it awful!" moaned Carol, perspiration streaming down her face, as -they plodded on in the blazing sun. "This terrific heat has lasted a -week, and there isn't a sign of let-up yet!"</p> - -<p>"And to think that poor Miss Yvonne has to tear up the house and pack at -such a time as this!" echoed Sue. "She isn't a bit well, either. I'm -awfully glad she's letting us help her. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> never supposed she would, but -she must be kind of desperate, with their servant gone. She's fine to -have let her go, though, for the servant said her son had to join the -army, and she might never see him again, if she didn't leave for France -at once."</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is great of Miss Yvonne to struggle through this alone," put in -the Imp, "but I still don't see why Monsieur didn't want her to get help -from the village, except that he didn't wish strangers to pry around and -ask questions at this time, I suppose."</p> - -<p>They reached the gate and turned into the yard. Monsieur was sitting -under a tree, reading a paper and striving to imagine that he was as -cool as possible in its shade. Louis was in the house, helping Miss -Yvonne.</p> - -<p>"Come in, girls!" he called through an open window. "We are precious -glad to see you. Can you help us pack these books?"</p> - -<p>The tone strove to be his usual, careless, care-free one, but it was -patently anything but that. Not one of the girls but realized the effort -he was making.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>They entered the room, donned dust-caps and aprons that they had -brought with them, and entered on the work with assumed zest. They were -in Miss Yvonne's room on the ground floor, and the dismantling process -had begun to be complete. The bed was taken down, the bookshelves -emptied and their contents piled on the floor, and the furniture was -shrouded in sacking. Little remained to be packed, except the contents -of a big closet built into one wall. Miss Yvonne was elsewhere, so the -young folks had the room to themselves.</p> - -<p>"Isn't the weather awful!" groaned Carol, for the second time in ten -minutes.</p> - -<p>"The news in the paper is worse!" commented Louis.</p> - -<p>"Oh, what is it?" chorused the girls. "None of us have had time to read -the paper to-day."</p> - -<p>"The Germans are demolishing Belgium. They've entered France at several -points and are bound straight for Calais and Paris. It seems as if -nothing could stop them. They're walking away with everything. They're -hideously prepared for this, and not one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> other nations is. It -makes my blood boil! Oh, if I could only <i>do</i> something, instead of just -going over to France and watching the show! But I suppose Monsieur -wouldn't hear of it."</p> - -<p>"Louis, you mustn't get into this fight. You're too young!" exclaimed -Sue.</p> - -<p>"Yes, that's what he says," muttered Louis, viciously scrubbing a book -with a dust-cloth. "But I'm seventeen; and I don't agree with him. I've -lost all interest in life, anyhow. Why shouldn't I go in and smash a few -of the enemy's heads?"</p> - -<p>The three girls shuddered, but did not answer.</p> - -<p>"There!" cried the Imp, glad to change the subject. "I've finished these -books. Now what else is there to do here, Louis?"</p> - -<p>"Aunt Yvonne said that closet was to be emptied and all the things piled -on the floor."</p> - -<p>The Imp straightway dived into the closet, calling back:</p> - -<p>"I'll hand the things out, and you all put them where they are to go."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>She began hurling out packages and bundles in an endless stream, for it -seemed as if the closet had been used for years as a storage-place, and -that the contents had seldom been moved.</p> - -<p>"My, but there are a lot of them!" coughed the Imp, choking with dust.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Aunt Yvonne said she was rather ashamed of this closet," said -Louis. "She's used it as a catch-all for years, and most of these -bundles are things she never has any use for, yet won't under any -circumstances give or throw away."</p> - -<p>"We have the same kind of a closet at home," remarked Carol. "Mother -says she doesn't know how she'd get along without it,—I mean the kind -of place where you stow things away that you hardly expect to touch -again."</p> - -<p>"So have we," echoed Sue.</p> - -<p>They worked for a time in silence. At last the Imp, dusty and cobwebby, -tossed out a final bundle, with the remark:</p> - -<p>"That's the last, I guess, except some scraps of wrapping-paper and so -on. I'll just look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> among these to see that there's nothing more."</p> - -<p>They heard her grubbing about for a moment or two, and then came a -stifled exclamation.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" cried every one simultaneously.</p> - -<p>"Somebody bring a candle!" commanded the Imp. "There's something queer -here!"</p> - -<p>Louis rushed away to get one, and was back in a jiffy.</p> - -<p>"Here it is," he said, handing it in to the Imp. While she lit it the -three crowded into the doorway to see whatever was to be revealed.</p> - -<p>"It's this hole," explained the Imp, holding the candle to a space about -six inches in diameter, near the base of the wall. "It was back of a -pile of bundles, and I guess it must have been made by mice or rats, for -the gnawed bits are lying all around. It must be rather recent, too, for -it looks so. My hand slipped into it a moment ago, and the boarding came -loose as I was trying to get it out. I think it must be because it was -so old and rotten. Anyhow, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> pulled away, and I just caught a glimpse -of something behind it that seemed strange."</p> - -<p>Louis crowded into the closet at this, and gave the board a wrench. It -fell away, disclosing a sight that made the four stare with surprise.</p> - -<p>"Why, it's a <i>fireplace</i>!" cried the Imp, poking her head in as Louis -pulled away another board. "A great, immense fireplace, even bigger than -the one in your living-room."</p> - -<p>It was nothing less. Each girl took a turn at poking her head into the -open space, and all were amazed at the breadth of the great -chimney-place, which still contained the andirons and curious old hooks -and cranes of bygone years.</p> - -<p>"I must tell the others!" cried Louis. "I'm sure they'll be interested -in this." And he rushed away to inform them.</p> - -<p>While he was gone, the Imp suddenly emerged from the closet in great -excitement.</p> - -<p>"I have an idea," she whispered to the others. "I may be crazy, but I -believe we're on the track of the hiding-place of those papers. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>Don't -you remember what Monsieur said about a <i>chimney</i>?"</p> - -<p>The two girls looked startled. Before they could discuss the matter, -however, back came Louis with Monsieur and the Meadows couple behind -him.</p> - -<p>"It's perfectly clear to me," Louis was explaining to them, "that at -some time or other, pretty far back, some one had the great 'long -kitchen' in this house made into two rooms, and the original walls and -fireplace were entirely boarded-up and concealed. I always thought it -rather strange that this house, which is exactly the same build and -design as the old Caswell place, for instance, or a dozen others around -here, should be entirely without that immense 'long kitchen,' as they -call it, that all the rest have. You know it's the original kitchen of -the former New Englanders. They used it as kitchen and dining-room and -everything. The fireplace is the biggest in the house, for often they -would have an ox drag into the room a great log that would entirely fill -the chimney-place. Somebody has <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>evidently had that room made into two -smaller ones, with no fireplace at all. Queer thing to do. I wonder why -they did it?"</p> - -<p>In his interest in this explanation, Louis had not appeared to notice -the evident excitement of Monsieur and old John Meadows and Miss Yvonne. -Now he was thunderstruck when Monsieur asked him if it was possible to -pull down the boarding around the fireplace.</p> - -<p>"Why, of course," exclaimed Louis, much astonished. "I have some tools I -could use, and it wouldn't take much strength, but what's the use of -demolishing it now? It will make an awful mess, and there probably isn't -much beyond what we've already seen, anyhow. It would be a good thing, -perhaps, to have this fine old room restored while we're away, but I -don't see any use in beginning it now."</p> - -<p>The marquis, trembling so that he was forced to support himself by -leaning on a packing-case, spoke with more decision than his hearers had -ever heard before:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>"Tear down the woodwork, Louis. It is my wish. There may be an -excellent reason." Without further protest, Louis went to work.</p> - -<p>The noontide sun grew hotter and hotter, but the company in that -curiously littered room did not notice it. Not a word was spoken as they -watched Louis, but a breathless suspense gripped them all,—all, that -is, except Louis. To him it was only a useless whim of Monsieur's that -he was obeying, and he was secretly rather irritated. He found, during -the course of his labor, that the chimney-place ran clear behind the -walls into the next room, which was that of old Mr. Meadows, but even -this did not daunt the marquis.</p> - -<p>"Tear down the wall between, if you can. Knock it down, break it down, -somehow. I do not care, so long as we free the chimney!"</p> - -<p>Before Louis was finished, the place looked as if it had suddenly been -subjected to an air-raid and earthquake combined, but no one cared. By -that time even Louis had begun to feel a vague suspicion that they were -on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> track of something. When the fireplace at last stood free amid -the surrounding débris, he stepped aside, remarking:</p> - -<p>"There! That's about all I can do, I think. That was a clever piece of -work—the way this other room has been entirely concealed. Not one of us -has ever suspected that it was here, though I suppose if we'd been any -sort of architects, we might have done so."</p> - -<p>"Oh, here are the old Dutch ovens!" cried the Imp, rushing forward to -examine the curious little iron doorways in the sides of the -chimney-place. "I saw the same thing in the Caswell house. They used to -bake bread in those, when the chimney became good and hot."</p> - -<p>She pulled open one of them and thrust in her hand.</p> - -<p>"Gracious! There's something in here!" she almost shouted, hauling out a -small iron box covered with the rust and dust and cobwebs of what must -have been a century in hiding.</p> - -<p>"Give it to me! Give it to me!" cried old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> John Meadows, striding -forward and fairly snatching it from her grasp. "It is the one, the very -one my grandfather spoke of, and in the <i>chimney</i>, just as I have always -thought he said."</p> - -<p>With tears of excitement in his eyes, he took the box and placed it in -the hands of the marquis. Miss Yvonne, sobbing quietly in the intensity -of her relief, sat down on a small packing-case and hid her face in her -hands. The three girls, understanding something of this strange -discovery, stood by, breathless in their excitement and interest. Only -Louis, to whom the whole proceeding was a dark mystery, stared at them -all, open-mouthed and questioning.</p> - -<p>Monsieur took the box and placed it in Louis's hands.</p> - -<p>"Can you open it for us?" he asked. "I suppose we might find the key, if -we hunted long enough, but I cannot wait for that. Open it without a -key, if that is possible."</p> - -<p>"I suppose I could get it open with an ax," remarked Louis, examining -the box carefully,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> "or even with a hammer and chisel, if you're not -afraid that the contents may be hurt."</p> - -<p>"It will not harm it, I am sure," replied Monsieur, and Louis brought -the necessary tools.</p> - -<p>It took a long while to break the lock, for the workmanship was stout -and strong. But at last this was accomplished, and Louis handed the box -to Monsieur for further investigation. They all pressed around him -eagerly, as he opened the lid. It contained nothing but a paper, folded, -tied, and sealed—a paper so faded, stained, and tender that they -scarcely dared touch it, lest it fall apart. Monsieur took it out with -extreme care, broke the seal, and handed the unread document to Louis.</p> - -<p>"Read it," he said. "It concerns you, and you alone. It is your right to -have the first reading of it. It is a sacred message, transmitted to you -through the years by your great-grandfather, the lost dauphin."</p> - -<p>"Shall I read it aloud?" inquired Louis, in a voice of hushed awe.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p><p>"If it pleases you to do so," replied the marquis.</p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/i3.jpg" alt="Louis began to read aloud, stopping often to decipher a word" /></div> - -<p class="bold">Louis began to read aloud, stopping often to decipher a word</p> - -<p>Louis cleared his throat nervously, and began to read aloud in French, -stopping often to decipher a word that was blurred by the stains of -time. As the two girls, Carol and Sue, could understand little or -nothing of what he read, they could only watch curiously the expression -on the faces of the other auditors. But before Louis had read far, that -expression became singularly different on each of those five eager -countenances. Miss Yvonne leaned forward from her packing-box, her eyes -startled and unbelieving. Old John Meadows ruffled his white hair -distractedly with his hands and muttered, "What? what?" in English, and -other expressions in French. The Imp's big blue eyes fairly danced with -amazement, and pleased amazement, at that. Monsieur stood listening, his -hands clenched, his head thrust forward, his eagle-like gaze intent, -unbelieving, stricken. Only Louis read on stolidly, as if the content -had not yet registered itself on his mind.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>Suddenly he threw down the paper and shouted, "Hurrah! hurrah!" and -then more solemnly, "Oh, thank God! I'm so glad."</p> - -<p>"What is it? what is it?" cried Sue and Carol, simultaneously. "<i>Please</i> -tell us! We haven't understood a word of it."</p> - -<p>"You poor things!" he exclaimed gaily. "Listen! I'll translate it for -you. It's very short." And he went on to translate from the ancient -paper as follows:</p> - -<blockquote><p>I who write this am the Dauphin of France, who should have been -Louis XVII. I escaped from the Temple Tower in my tenth year by -means which I shall not attempt to explain here. All that is known -to others who could make it public to the world if I so wished. I -do not, however, wish it. My only desire is to remain forever -hidden. Should there, however, arise at any future time a cause or -reason for making descendants of mine aware of the truth of their -real ancestry, I wish to make this statement. <i>I have no -descendants.</i> The boy whom Jean Mettot supposes to be my son is no -flesh-and-blood heir of mine. The boy is the son of my wife by her -former husband. He was a young child, less than two years old, when -I married her, and so fond did I become of him that I felt no -difference and wished to feel no more difference than if he were -truly my own. But no Bourbon blood runs in his veins, praise God,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> -and heirs of his may never inherit the throne of France. I am ill -and weak, when writing this, and I feel that death is not far away. -Only Jean Mettot knows the hiding-place I have designed for this -document. I pray God there may never be need to disclose it.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Louis Charles.</span></p></blockquote> - -<p>"But—but," stammered Sue, when Louis had finished, "what does this -mean?"</p> - -<p>"It means," cried Louis, "that I haven't a drop of Bourbon blood in me! -It means that I'm a plain, <i>American</i> boy, after all!"</p> - -<p>He threw his cap into the air exultantly and shouted another hurrah.</p> - -<p class="space-above">Strangely enough, it was Sue who first gave a thought to the marquis. -Glancing suddenly toward him, she exclaimed in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"O Monsieur!"</p> - -<p>He was still standing in the same tense attitude, his expression dazed -and unbelieving. Not one of them but expected that this news, so happy -to Louis, so tragic to him, might cause an attack, possibly a fatal one, -of his physical ailment. But the marquis was made of sterner stuff than -they knew. With a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>sudden squaring of his shoulders, he walked over to -the window and stood staring out, his back toward them all, his hands -clenched behind him.</p> - -<p>So long did he remain thus, that the tense silence became almost -unbearable. It was Louis at last, with his head up and the kindest -expression the girls had ever seen in his eyes, who walked over to -Monsieur and laid a hand on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Will you forgive me, sir," he said very quietly, "for my beastly -expressions of joy? I ought to have realized what a blow this news would -be to you,—whatever it may mean to me."</p> - -<p>The marquis turned and looked deep into his eyes.</p> - -<p>"My boy," he spoke in a husky voice, "you are worthy to be the lineal -descendant of a king, even if fate has willed that you are not."</p> - -<p>He could say no more at that moment, and Louis went on:</p> - -<p>"I want you to know I feel, sir, that my obligation to you remains -precisely the same, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> though conditions are changed. I owe you -everything I have. You undoubtedly will no longer contemplate taking me -for your adopted son. There isn't the slightest reason for it now. But I -want to give you and the country you love the very best that is in me. I -am an American of the Americans, and I'm prouder of it than ever. But I -want to 'do my bit' for France and for you. Will you allow me, sir, to -go with you to France and join the French Flying Corps? It is the only -way that I can repay you."</p> - -<p>The marquis was still gazing straight into the boy's eyes. Now he laid -both hands on his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"You shall have your wish, my boy," he said, still huskily. "I now see -that I should never have striven to restrain you. But, king or no king, -an adopted son of mine you shall be, if you yourself will consent to it. -I love you for yourself. What matters any other reason? But, before God, -I promise you that in no way will I put the slightest obstacle in the -path you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> have chosen for yourself. France will yet be as proud of you -as I am. Louis Charles, will you be my son?"</p> - -<p>"I never knew any parents," answered Louis, in a shaky, unsteady voice, -"and I've—I've missed them horribly. Will you be—my father?"</p> - -<p>When the girls looked around, they found that old Mr. Meadows and his -daughter had vanished from the room. At Sue's beckoning finger, the -three girls tiptoed out after them.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE END OF THE JOURNAL</span></h2> - -<p>September 25, 1914. It's so long since I've written in this journal that -I'm quite discouraged about it. Not a single entry have I made since -that wonderful day over at Louis's when they found the document. Well, -there hasn't been much to write about, and we've all felt lonely and -blue and <i>apprehensive</i> (that's the only word I can think of to express -it) ever since Louis sailed for France.</p> - -<p>They did not get away quite as soon as they had expected. Changed -conditions and sailing dates delayed them a week or more longer than the -original plan. I think it was at least the twentieth of August before -they left for New York and their steamer.</p> - -<p>Oh, it is such a desolate place now, across the Green, since they went -away,—all shut up and dark and lonely! But Monsieur has left the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> key -with us, and asked us to go through it once in a while to see that -everything was all right. In the spring he intends to have an architect -come and restore the "long kitchen" to exactly its former appearance, -and to put all the rest of the house in good shape. He says that, since -Louis wishes it so much, he shall come back here whenever there is an -opportunity, that is, whenever his duties will permit, and that he can -live here as long as he likes. That is glorious news. We are all so -happy about it, and Louis was just wild with joy.</p> - -<p>But <i>will</i> he come back? That is the awful question. Aviation is -dangerous enough, even here in a peaceful country. What earthly chance -of life has one over there in the midst of this horrible war? It makes -me shudder every time I think of it, and I don't dare think of it much. -I have awful nightmares about it every night.</p> - -<p>The Imp has taken to reading up everything she can find on the subject, -and she insists on telling us hair-raising tales about the dangers and -accidents that happen to military aviators.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> I asked her once if it -didn't simply make her sick to think of such things in connection with -Louis, but she only said:</p> - -<p>"Oh, no! Louis's not going to have things like that happen to <i>him</i>. -He's different!" I only wish I had her faith.</p> - -<p>Louis's departure with the marquis was a nine-days' wonder here, of -course. Everybody talked about it incessantly for a while, speculating -at the greatest length on why in the world a French nobleman should do -such an eccentric thing. But naturally, no one except we three girls -ever guessed the truth, or ever will. For it was the marquis's wish -that, even as things turned out, the truth about the dauphin should -never be made public.</p> - -<p>We have all gone back to school, and are plodding along in the same -prosaic way. The only thing we're doing that really interests us is to -knit an outfit for Louis—a sweater, a helmet, some wristlets, and -socks. He said before he left that he'd probably need them, and we -promised to make them as quickly as possible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - -<p class="space-above">September 28. We had a letter from Louis to-day,—the first since he -left. Of course it caused the wildest excitement. He said they had a -safe voyage across, and he wasn't seasick a minute, though the marquis -and old Mr. Meadows were very ill. Louis said that they went straight to -Paris, and there the marquis used his influence and had him enlisted in -the French Air Service. In a few days Louis was notified to report for -duty at the Hôtel des Invalides. Here he went through his physical -examination, passed it, and then was sent to Dijon to get his outfit, -which is provided by the government. After going through all that, he -was sent to Pau (we've looked up these places in the Atlas, and know -exactly where they are!) to become a member of the flying-school.</p> - -<p>Louis had been there only a week when he wrote this letter, but he says -that, owing to the hard study he put in on Page Calvin's machine, he's -almost perfect in the mechanical parts,—the engine and steering,—and -instead of having to spend several weeks at that, he can soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> begin the -actual flying. Of course I don't understand all his technical talk, but -one thing is easy to see—he's completely and absolutely <i>happy</i>. He -says he'll write again when he's actually "been up," but that he has -hardly a moment to himself during the day, and at night he's so tired -that he almost falls asleep on the way to bed. The French course must be -very strict and exacting.</p> - -<p class="space-above">November 22, 1914. I didn't suppose it would be so long before I'd write -here again, but there's generally nothing much to write. Paradise Green -has returned to its old, sleepy nonentity of a place since Louis went -away. Only one thing has stirred the quiet surface of our family. Dave -has been extremely morose and uneasy ever since Louis's departure, and -yesterday he launched a thunderbolt in our midst by asking Father if he -could go off to "the front" and enlist in the French army. Father was -very quiet about it, but he refused absolutely. Then Dave broke down and -blubbered like a baby. He said he wanted to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> something to help in -this beastly mess, and that he thought America was "rotten" not to get -into it, too. But Father said:</p> - -<p>"If America ever does get into it, Dave, you'll go with my full -permission,—but not till then!" So Dave had to be content with that.</p> - -<p>We heard from Louis to-day,—the most <i>wonderful</i> letter! Two weeks ago -he finished his course in aviation and was ordered to duty at the front. -So off he went (he wasn't allowed to tell us where the "front" was) and -has been there ever since, scouting over the enemy's lines in a biplane -with the <i>chef pilote</i>, to familiarize himself with conditions. He will -soon be actively engaged with the enemy. It makes me sick and cold to -think of it. Will we ever see Louis alive again, walking about Paradise -Green in the old way? I have simply made up my mind that it is not -possible,—that if it ever happens, it will be nothing short of a -<i>miracle</i>.</p> - -<p>On looking back in this journal, I find that I have kept it exactly one -year. I have fulfilled my promise to Miss Cullingford, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> believe, -if she could only read it, she'd find it a very interesting "supplement -to history." But of course she never will read it. That would be -breaking my promise to the marquis. I do not think I will write in it -any more. The year is over, and Louis has gone—and may never come back -any more.</p> - -<p class="space-above">April 10, 1917. To-day, in an old drawer of my desk, locked away and -almost completely forgotten by me, I found this journal that I kept -three long years ago. How long, how <i>very</i> long they seem now! I was -sixteen then, and still in high school. I am nineteen—nearly -twenty—now, and have been a year in college. At present I am home for -the Easter vacation, back in little Paradise Green, and in rummaging -through my desk I found this journal. The idea has come to me to add one -more entry, because it will make the story complete.</p> - -<p>When I last wrote here, I was positively certain that Louis would die, -that he would be killed in some terrible battle or have some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>accident -to his aëroplane. Nothing of the sort has occurred, marvelous as it may -seem. Yes, the miracle has happened, and Louis, our same old Louis, is -back in his home on Paradise Green! What is more, the Meadows, or -Mettots, as I now call them, are back here with him, just as in the old -days. It's too wonderful for words!</p> - -<p>But the marquis is not here. He never will be here any more, for he died -a year ago, leaving his title and what little remains of his estate to -Louis. The greater part of it has been turned over to the French -Government.</p> - -<p>But Louis! Oh, that has been the wonderful part of the story! He has -been known for two years as one of the most daring and successful -members of the French Aviation Corps, with a record of captured enemy -machines and successful engagements to be proud of. He has been -decorated by the French Government and honored in a dozen ways, and has -never been wounded or injured till just lately.</p> - -<p>In an engagement at Eaucourt l'Abbaye last October, toward the finish of -the great Somme battle, he was wounded in the side, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> managed to land -his machine safely. The wound was not serious in itself, but his old -enemy, blood-poisoning, set in, and for a while it was nip-and-tuck -whether he could recover. But Louis says his constitution is "sound -American," and after a long siege he was pronounced out of danger and -recovered. He has been compelled by his commanding officer, however, to -take a long leave of absence, to recover complete health before he -returns to the front.</p> - -<p>So he came back to Paradise Green, to take up life, as he says, where he -left it. During this Easter vacation we four have been rollicking -around, just as we used to when we were children and hadn't a care on -our minds. Carol is as grown-up as I am, and is attending college with -me. The Imp is a tall, lanky creature now, nearly through high school, -and at times can be quite as exasperating as ever. They say she's cut -out for a brilliant future, but just at present her whole mind is -concentrated on becoming a Red Cross nurse, so that she can go off to -"the front" and get in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> thick of it. Mother and Father won't stand -for it, of course, but trust the Imp to get her way—somehow.</p> - -<p>And that brings me to another thing. America has at last entered the -war. We can scarcely believe it yet. Louis is jubilant, and Dave -promptly claimed the promise that Father made him three years ago. -Father has consented, as he said he would, but is feeling pretty grave -about it. And the look in Mother's eyes is enough to keep Dave from -effervescing too openly. I dare not think very far into the future, but -for the immediate present we all are trying to be happy.</p> - -<p>I had almost decided to destroy this journal, but something Louis told -us has made me change my mind. He said that before Monsieur (I cannot -get out of the habit of calling him that!) passed away, he told Louis -that he had changed his mind about keeping secret any longer the story -of Louis's descent. He said that he believed the dauphin would have been -filled with pride at the wonderful attainments and service to France of -the descendant of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> own adopted son, and would glory in the world's -knowledge of his connection with him. So Louis said that, although he -wasn't ever going to say anything about it himself, he didn't specially -care if the rest of us did. The matter seemed of little importance to -him, anyhow. He said that probably no one would believe it, anyway, as -there were too many stories already concerning the escape and claims of -the "lost dauphin."</p> - -<p>Probably they won't, and I wouldn't blame them, for it does seem -well-nigh incredible. However that may be, I've changed my mind about -this journal. I'm going to show it to Miss Cullingford. She and I have -always been great friends, even after I left high school, and I want her -to read for herself the whole history of this wonderful thing that -happened on little, out-of-the-way Paradise Green.</p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 52946-h.htm or 52946-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/2/9/4/52946">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/4/52946</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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M. Relyea - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Three Sides of Paradise Green - - -Author: Augusta Huiell Seaman - - - -Release Date: August 31, 2016 [eBook #52946] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN*** - - -E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, Martin -Pettit, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 52946-h.htm or 52946-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52946/52946-h/52946-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52946/52946-h.zip) - - - - - -THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN - -by - -AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN - -Author of "The Girl Next Door," -"The Sapphire Signet," etc. - -Illustrated by C. M. Relyea - - - - - - - -[Illustration: Decoration] - -New York -The Century Co. - - -[Illustration: "I'll tell you after we've had our swim," said the Imp] - - -Copyright, 1918, by -The Century Co. - -Published, October, 1918 - - -Printed in U. S. A. - - - - -TO - -THE REAL HELEN ROBERTA - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - I THE JOURNAL IS BEGUN 3 - - II NEW DEVELOPMENTS 18 - - III THE IMP HAS THE BEST OF IT 36 - - IV THE MYSTERIOUS "MONSIEUR" 53 - - V TWO ACCIDENTS AND A MYSTERY 68 - - VI IN MONSIEUR'S ROOM 87 - - VII THE IMP MAKES A DISCOVERY 99 - - VIII THE PORTRAIT OF MYSTERY 114 - - IX CAROL MAKES A DISCOVERY OF HER OWN 125 - - X JOTTINGS FROM THE JOURNAL 138 - - XI LOUIS SPRINGS A SURPRISE--AND - THE CONSEQUENCES THEREOF 151 - - XII WHAT THE IMP KNEW 163 - - XIII SUSPICIONS 175 - - XIV A SOLEMN CONCLAVE--AND WHAT - CAME OF IT 190 - - XV MONSIEUR'S STORY 202 - - XVI AUGUST FOURTH, 1914 228 - - XVII THE IMP MAKES A LAST DISCOVERY 246 - -XVIII THE END OF THE JOURNAL 265 - - - - -THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE JOURNAL IS BEGUN - - -November 22, 1913. It's all on account of Miss Cullingford that I'm -beginning this journal. I never would have thought of such a thing by -myself. Neither would Carol. Now we've both begun one, and it's just -because Miss Cullingford is so sweet and lovely, and all the girls at -Bridgeton High School want to please her,--Carol and myself most of all. - -Miss Cullingford is our English literature instructor, and we all simply -adore her. She's the sweetest thing! She's little and slight, with -fluffy light hair and dark blue eyes. And she's _such_ an inspiration -about literature and English composition! She makes it seem actually -like a romance. They always seemed terribly dull, those subjects, when -we had Miss Trotter last year. But now we're just crazy about them. - -Well, one of the things she said yesterday in composition class was that -every one of us ought to keep a journal, not the kind of diary affair -that some people keep,--all about the weather and the number of jars of -jam they put up, and how Cousin Hannah called that day!--but an -occasional record, only written when we felt like it, of the things that -happen around us and our ideas about people and so on. She said that the -greatest minds of the ages had generally kept such a record, and that -they had proved a big addition to history and literature, too. - -Then, right there, I raised my hand and said that it was fine, of -course, for the great minds to do it, especially when they lived in -stirring times and had lots interesting to write about; but what was the -use of just plain, ordinary people, as young as we were, doing it, -especially when there wasn't anything going on that was interesting at -all,--just the same old thing every day? - -Miss Cullingford answered that I mustn't make the mistake of thinking -_any_ life uninteresting, no matter how quiet and ordinary it might -appear to be. You can always find something interesting to write about -any kind of life, if you try hard enough. And that was where the -advantage of a journal came in,--it made you look around hard to find -what was worth while, and you always found it. Also, it was a great help -to your style in writing. Then she asked if any of the girls would -promise to keep a journal faithfully for a year. Carol and I promised. - -Well, now I'm going to see. No life could possibly be more -_un_interesting than mine, here in quiet little Stafford where nothing -ever happens or ever _has_ happened that I know of, and in a family -that's awfully nice, of course, but as plain and uninteresting and -ordinary as all the rest of the families around here. - -Carol doesn't feel the same as I do about it. She's more hopeful. -That's because she has lots of imagination and is always romancing about -people and thinking there's some story back of their lives that we don't -know. I suppose her journal will be awfully different from mine. Well, -anyhow, we've both begun, and now we'll see what happens. - -November 23. I had to stop short last night because I suddenly got so -sleepy. Now I'll go on. I do wish we lived in Bridgeton, for things -surely happen once in a while in a big town like that. Or even down in -our own village of Stafford itself, and not way out, a mile off on the -main road, on this silly little triangle called Paradise Green. Even the -trolley doesn't run up this way; that would be _something_! But there's -nothing in the world around here except this little triangle of a green, -formed by the turning off of Cranberry Bog Road from the River Road, and -the short road that connects the two at the head of the green. I'm sure -I don't know why it was ever called Paradise Green. I suppose if I were -Carol, I'd find out. She probably will. She's always hunting up -historical facts. - -Even the automobiles don't come along this way. Nearly all of them keep -to the State road over on the other side of the river. There are just -three houses around the Green, one on each side, and not another -dwelling anywhere within half a mile. So we haven't many near neighbors. - -Our house stands at the head of the Green. It's a big square house, with -a cupola on top and a veranda around all four sides. Father's father -built it when that style of house was just beginning to be popular, and -everybody thought it very grand. I hate it myself, because it seems so -old-fashioned and dreary compared to those pretty new bungalows they are -putting up in Bridgeton. Mother and Father and the Imp and I live here. -Father does intensive farming,--he is just crazy about it,--and every -one comes to Birdsey's for ideas on the subject. - -Dave is my brother. He's seventeen and a half, and a very quiet and -thoughtful sort of person. All the same, he can do his own share of -teasing in a quiet way. He left high school this year because his health -wasn't very good, and is helping Father with the farming. Next year he's -going to study scientific agriculture at one of the big colleges. I'm -secretly awfully fond of Dave, but just at present he pretends to look -down on girls as entirely unnecessary articles in the general scheme of -things, so Carol and I are letting him severely alone. - -The Imp is my sister. She's twelve years old and a perfect nuisance. -Carol and I have named her "The Imp" because she acts just like one. She -likes to trot around with us all the time, but we won't have it. It's -impossible to have a child of twelve continually hanging on to girls of -fifteen or sixteen, and Carol and I simply won't stand it. The Imp is -fearfully miffed about this and spends her time thinking up revengeful -things to do to us. She makes our lives perfectly miserable sometimes, -though we wouldn't let her know it for the world. - -Carol's house is on the River Road side of the Green. She lives there -with just her mother and her Aunt Agatha. The Fayres are distant -relatives of ours, so Carol and I are really cousins. Their house is one -of the old style, a real New England farmhouse, and they have a glorious -big barn in the back, where we've all played ever since we were babies. -One little room off the haymow Carol and I have fixed up as our private -den and study. We keep our books and our fancywork there, and her mother -gave us an old desk where we do our school work. We always keep the den -locked with a padlock, because the Imp would like to get in and rummage -around. She's as mad as a hatter because she can't. She threatens to -climb in the window sometime, but I don't believe she could possibly. If -she did, she'd probably break her neck. - -Carol is fifteen years old, and I'm sixteen. Her name is really -Caroline, but she hates it and wants to be called "Carol" instead. She -says it's so much prettier. And mine is even worse--_Susan_! Could -anything be more dreadful? I've insisted on being called "Susette," -which at least is a prettier French form. But no one except Carol will -ever call me that. Every one calls me either "Susie" or "Sue," that is, -all but the Imp. She, of course, knowing how much I detest it, will say -nothing but "So-o-san" on all occasions. Carol she addresses by the -horrible nickname of "Cad." Why are some children so irritating, I -wonder? The infuriating part is that the Imp's own name is really -lovely--Helen Roberta--and she knows it, little torment that she is! - -Well, I haven't yet told about the third house on the Green, so now I -come to that. It's the one on the Cranberry Bog Road side. It's by far -the most interesting of the three,--a long, rambling colonial farmhouse, -built, they say, way back in seventeen hundred and something. It has the -most fascinating additions in all directions from the main part, and -queer little back stairways and old slave quarters, and I don't know -what else. But the people who live in it are the interesting part. - -To begin with, there's Louis. His whole name is Louis Charles Durant. He -is seventeen and goes to high school in Bridgeton with us. We have known -him all our lives, and he's the nicest, jolliest boy we know. But the -people he lives with I've never understood at all, and if there were any -romance or mystery about any one around here, it would be about them. - -Come to think of it, they _are_ mysterious. Carol has always said so, -but I never thought much about it. And that only goes to show that Miss -Cullingford is right. Keeping a journal does certainly make you go about -with your eyes open wider and gives you an interest in things you never -thought worth while before. I never thought or cared a bit about Louis's -folks before, and now I see they're full of possibilities. - -November 24. Fell asleep again last night while I was writing. I guess -it's because there's nothing very exciting to write about. However, I'll -go on from where I left off about Louis's folks. First, there's the old -man. Louis's father and mother have been dead a number of years. I never -remember seeing either of them. So he lives with this old man, who, they -say, is his guardian. His name is John Meadows, or at least that is what -he is always called around here. But Louis says that he is French, and -that his real name is Jean Mettot. He is very old; he must be eighty at -least. And he is very feeble now, too. He sits all day long in a great -armchair by the parlor window. He never reads anything but the papers -and some great, heavy volumes of French history, but he spends a great -deal of time thinking and dreaming, while he looks way off over the -meadows toward the river. - -Then there's his daughter, Miss Meadows. She's about forty or fifty -years old, I should think. Louis says her name is Yvonne. Certainly, -that's a fascinating French name. She's very dark and handsome and quick -in her ways, but she's very, very quiet and silent. I never had a _real_ -conversation with her in my life, though I've talked to her a great -many times. I do all the talking, and she nods or smiles or says "Yes" -and "No," and that is absolutely all. I feel as if I'd never really -_know_ her, if I talked to her a hundred years. They have one servant, a -big French peasant from Normandy, who cooks the meals and takes care of -the garden and house. - -All this doesn't sound very strange, however. And there _is_ something -very mysterious about them,--at least, so Carol has always said. I never -paid much attention to the thing before, or noticed it. The curious part -of it all is the way they treat Louis. He isn't any real relative, so he -says. His parents and their parents have just been dear friends from a -long way back. It's plain that they think the world of him, too, just as -much as if he were a relative. But there's something more. They are -continually watching him with anxious eyes. They guard him as if he -weren't able to take care of himself any more than a baby. They don't -let him have half the liberty and fun that ordinary boys have. Lots of -mothers and fathers, who love their children to distraction, aren't half -as fussy and concerned about them as these two people are about a boy -who isn't even a relative. It makes Louis awfully annoyed, for he hates -like anything to be coddled. Once he fell out of an apple-tree and broke -a rib, and they nearly went wild. He had a fever that night and lay in a -sort of stupor. But when he was coming out of it he heard them talking -awfully queerly about him and wringing their hands and whispering that -"he would never, never forgive us if Monsieur Louis were to die." - -Who "he" was, or why his Aunt Yvonne and his Uncle Jean (as he calls -them) should allude to him as "Monsieur Louis," was something Louis -couldn't understand. And somehow, when he was better, he didn't like to -ask. - -They have taught him French, and with them he always has to speak that -language. But he doesn't like it, because he says he's an American -citizen and would rather talk "United States" than anything else. He's -awfully patriotic and proud of this country, and he can't understand why -this should bother Mr. and Miss Meadows. But it somehow does. He's sure -of it, for they won't let him talk about it, and are always telling him -that his great grandfather was born in France and that he should be very -proud of it. - -Then there's another thing, too, that seems to worry them a lot. Louis -is crazy about mechanical engineering. He declares he's going to study -that exclusively, when he's through high school, and become an expert in -it. This nearly drives them wild. They want him to be a "statesman," as -they call it, and study law and history and diplomacy and all that sort -of thing. - -"You can serve your country best that way," they are always telling him. - -Once he said to them: - -"The United States has plenty of that sort already. _I_ want to go in -for something special." And he says they never answered a word, but -just looked queerly at each other and walked off. - -Another time he found that the lock on their kitchen door wouldn't work, -so he unscrewed it and took it out. He was fixing it when along came his -Aunt Yvonne. When she saw what he was doing she burst into tears and -rushed away, muttering, "The ancient blood! It will ruin -everything!"--or something in French like that. - -All these things do not happen frequently, of course, but when something -like it does occur, it puzzles Louis dreadfully. He always talks it over -with us when we come home together from Bridgeton High School on the -trolley, so that's why I happen to know about it. - -Well, now I've begun this journal by telling all about ourselves and our -homes and everything else I can think of. But as I read it over, it -doesn't sound one bit exciting or likely to become "an interesting -contribution to history," as Miss Cullingford would say. I wonder what -she'd think about it. I'm glad I didn't promise to _show_ her my -journal, for I'm not very proud of this sample. I'm crazy to see what -Carol has written. We're going to compare our journals to-morrow. - -One thing is certain, though. I'm not going to write another word till -I've something more interesting to talk about, even if I have to wait -six months! - - - - -CHAPTER II - -NEW DEVELOPMENTS - - -December 1, 1913. I haven't written a thing in this journal for over a -week, for a number of reasons. In the first place, I'd made up my mind -not to write till I had something worth writing about. In the second -place, we've been having some exams at school that took a lot of work to -prepare for. Third, Thanksgiving holidays came along, and we were all -pretty busy and had a lot of engagements. Altogether, I haven't had a -minute till now--_and_ something has happened that's rather interesting -to write about. - -Carol is ever so much better at this journal business than I am. She -writes nearly every other day. But then, she doesn't mind writing about -all the little ordinary occurrences,--the things she does about the -housework and her studies and so on. But I simply can't do it. If I -can't tell about something a little out of the ordinary, I won't write -at all. And as nothing besides the usual ever happens in either one of -our two households (or at school or in the village!), I find myself -turning more and more to Louis and his affairs for interest. - -It's strange (I've heard other people speak of the same thing, too) that -when you once get to thinking about a certain thing, all sorts of other -ideas and events connected with it will suddenly begin to appear. I -never gave a thought to Louis and his affairs before I began this -journal. He has always lived here, and we've always known him and never -thought there was anything strange about his folks. But now so many -queer little things have happened and so many strange ideas have come to -us (Carol and myself, I mean) about that house across the Green that it -seems as if there _must_ be some mystery right near our commonplace -lives after all. - -Before I tell what happened, however, I must remark that the Imp has -been particularly exasperating lately. She got wind somehow or other -(at first we _couldn't_ think how) that Carol and I are keeping -journals. Later I discovered that it was because Carol had carelessly -left hers on the desk in our den, and had forgotten to padlock the door. -Carol is so thoughtless at times, because she gets to going about with -"her head in the clouds," as her Aunt Agatha says, and doesn't remember -half the things she ought to do. It's generally when she's thinking up -some verses. Carol _does_ compose very pretty verses. Miss Cullingford -has praised them highly. But she's always awfully absent-minded when -she's thinking about them. - -Well, the way we learned that the Imp had discovered our journals was by -a large sheet of paper pinned to Carol's barn-door. This was written on -it: - - - November 29. How these precious autumn days fly by! Each one is - like a polished jewel. I made my bed and dusted my room at eight A. - M. Then I composed a sweet little poem on "Feeding the Pigs." After - that I slept in the hammock on the porch till lunchtime. The days - are all too short for these many duties! - - -Of course we were furious. Carol confessed to me that she had left her -journal open on the desk in the den, and the last entry was awfully like -what that little wretch had written, only Carol had spoken of composing -a poem on "Feeding the Pigeons." She _had_ slept on the porch all -morning, because it was a lovely mild day and I was away with Mother at -a luncheon in Bridgeton. But she hadn't mentioned this in her journal. - -It is perfectly useless to argue with the Imp, or to scold or reason -with her. She can go you one better every single time. We concluded that -the best thing to do was ignore the incident entirely. So we left the -paper hanging on the barn-door till the wind blew it away. A course of -action like that makes the Imp madder than if you got purple in the face -with fury. I've advised Carol not to leave her journal in the den any -more, but to keep it in her room, and she says she will. - -All this, however, isn't telling what happened to Louis. He told us -about it this afternoon while we were resting on our veranda after a -hot session of pitching the basketball about. After a while we just had -to sit down and get our breath, and the Imp strolled off by herself -somewhere. It was then that Louis told us the strange thing that -happened yesterday. - -It seems that his Aunt Yvonne has gone to New York on a visit for a few -days, and he has been alone with his Uncle John and the servant. -Yesterday afternoon, about five o'clock, a boy rode up from the village -on a bicycle with a telegram for his uncle. The old gentleman opened it, -but couldn't read it because he had mislaid his glasses. So he got Louis -to read it to him. Louis says the thing was a cablegram from some place -in France--he can't remember the name--and that it was the queerest -message. It ran like this: - - - Time almost ripe. Have you the necessary papers? Sail next month. - - -When his uncle heard this he became terribly excited and began to walk -up and down the room very fast. But when Louis asked him what it all -meant, all he would say was: - -"It is not for you to inquire or for me to explain just yet, Monsieur!" -Louis says his uncle often calls him "monsieur," and he can't understand -why. He thinks it's generally when the old gentleman forgets himself or -is excited. But it makes Louis feel very queer. - -After that his uncle wouldn't say anything more, but Louis says he began -to rummage around through all his letters and papers, and looked through -all his books and in all the closets, evidently hunting for something he -couldn't find. And the more he hunted, the more nervous and excitable he -grew. Every once in a while he would exclaim, "Ah, why is not that -Yvonne here?" By bedtime he was pretty well worked up, for it was -evident that he couldn't find what he was searching for. Louis tried and -tried to get him to explain and let him help in the hunt. But the old -gentleman would only mutter, "No, no! That cannot be!" Louis says he -doesn't think his uncle slept all night, because he heard him rummaging -about in all sorts of places till nearly morning. To-day he seems -terribly used up. He just sits in his chair by the window, staring out -and watching for his daughter to come. Louis says he had to go down to -the village at eight o'clock last night with a telegram, telling his -Aunt Yvonne to come home at once. - -How mysterious it all sounds! Louis declares he can't imagine what it -means, and it makes him very uneasy, because he is almost certain that -it is something concerning himself. He says he sometimes thinks his -uncle is planning to send him to France before he gets much older, to -complete his studies there and to become a French citizen, and he -doesn't want to go. - -My idea was that perhaps he had some relatives there and that they -wanted him to come back. But Louis says his uncle has often told him -that he hasn't any relatives living. And if he had, he says there's no -reason why there should be all this secrecy about it. But he can't -understand who the people are with whom his uncle is corresponding. - -Carol's opinion was that perhaps Louis was a descendant of some titled -person,--a count or a marquis or something like that,--and that these -people are trying to bring him back to his legal title and estates. -Louis simply hooted at that. He says that his great grandfather was a -plain "monsieur" when he came over here long ago; that he never had been -anything else and didn't want to be. So that Carol's idea was all -nonsense. Carol is always romancing like that, and generally getting -laughed at. Just at this point the Imp came suddenly around the corner -of the veranda and demanded: - -"What are you talking about? I warrant dollars to doughnuts it's about -Louis." - -That child has a perfectly uncanny way of lighting on just the thing you -don't care to have her know about. She's a veritable mind-reader. None -of us cared at that particular moment to explain what we were -discussing, so no one said a word. Meanwhile the Imp eyed us with a -grin. And before any one could think of something to say that would -change the subject, she exploded this bomb in our midst: - -"Louis' Aunt Yvonne has come home. She's having a fit!" - -Louis just scooted for his own house as fast as he could. We asked her -how she knew Miss Meadows was having a fit, and she said: - -"Because I saw her drive up and get out of the hack and run up the -steps. I had climbed a tree in their side yard to look into an oriole's -nest, and I heard her open the door and call out a lot of things in -French to old Mr. Meadows." - -The Imp is terribly quick about picking up languages, and she has teased -Louis into teaching her quite a little French, which he declared to us -she picked up with lightning speed. It makes Carol and me furious -sometimes to feel that she has this advantage over us, for we haven't -come to French yet in high school, and are so busy digging out our Latin -that we haven't either time or interest to learn another language on the -side. Well, it humiliated me to pieces to have to ask her what Miss -Yvonne said, but I swallowed my pride and did so. All the little wretch -answered, as she walked away, was: - -"Wouldn't you like to know?" - -[Illustration: "Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied, exasperatingly] - -We didn't see anything more of Louis to-day, and Carol and I are just -burning up with curiosity. I could shake the Imp till her teeth -chattered! - - -There was a cosy group gathered about the open fire in the Birdseys' -big, comfortable, and not too tidy living-room. At a large center table, -drawn close to the blaze, sat Carol and Sue, scribbling away for dear -life in two large, fat note-books and covering the table with many trial -sheets of mathematical figuring. They were exact opposites in -appearance. Sue was tall and slim to the point of angularity. She had -dark eyes, and her dark hair was coiled heavily about her head. Carol -was short and plump, with dreamy blue eyes and wavy auburn hair that -still hung in a thick braid. - -On the davenport, curled up like a kitten in one corner, sat the Imp, -or "Bobs," as she was generally called,--her chin propped in her hands, -a book balanced against her knees. In sharp contrast to the other two -girls was her tiny body and dark, straight hair, and the big blue eyes -that could at one moment gaze with liquid, angelic candor, and at the -next snap with impish mischief. There was mischief in them at the -moment, as she stared reflectively at the two girls bent over the table. -Unaware of her gaze, they scribbled on, comparing notes at intervals. - -"Do you get the answer 4ab(ab+2bm) 1/2 to your third problem?" presently -inquired Sue, without looking up. - -"No, I don't!" moaned Carol in depressed tones, pushing aside her work -and running her fingers through her hair. "I don't get anything at all." - -"Well, don't worry. Let's see what's wrong. Hand over your work and I'll -compare it with mine," said her companion soothingly. She dragged -Carol's note-book toward her and compared it with her own. - -"Oh, I see what you've done!" she exclaimed in a moment. "In the first -equation you didn't put down--" - -At this instant the Imp, whose eyes had been smoldering with suppressed -mischief, yawned loudly, stretched herself, and remarked with apparent -irrelevance: - -"It's a long day when you don't go to school, isn't it?" - -Both girls sat up with a jerk and surveyed her sternly. - -"Do you mean to say that you haven't been to school to-day?" they -demanded in a breath, and Sue added, "I'd like to know why not." - -"I had a bad headache this morning, Susan," explained the Imp sweetly. -"Mother let me stay home. I was all right by two o'clock, though. Louis -and I had a game of basketball before it began to rain." - -Her companions glanced at each other with a meaning expression, none of -which was lost on the Imp. With a grin of satisfaction, she proceeded: - -"His aunt called him in just before we finished, and he didn't come out -again." - -With a visible effort, Sue inquired: - -"Did he say why he wasn't at school to-day? We thought it rather queer -when he didn't come, but perhaps, after the strange thing that happened -yesterday--" - -This was precisely the trap into which the Imp had planned that they -should fall. - -"I didn't ask him," she remarked, with exasperating calm. - -"No doubt you didn't," retorted Carol heatedly, "but perhaps he told you -without being asked." - -"Perhaps he did," returned the Imp, "and perhaps he told me a lot more. -However, I must say bye-bye for the present. I've got to go and study my -lessons somewhere where I won't be disturbed!" - -She scrambled down and sailed out of the room, waving airily to them -from the doorway. - -"Isn't she simply maddening!" exclaimed Sue. "The idea of saying she had -to go and study! I never knew her to study a thing in my life. She -seems to know her lessons by instinct." - -"But what _do_ you suppose Louis told her?" mused Carol. - -"Not much, or I miss my guess," returned Sue. "She's only trying to -tease us. But it is strange that he stayed home to-day. Something -serious must be the matter. He hasn't missed a day this term before." - -"But if it was serious," argued Carol, "why should he be out playing -with the Imp?" - -At this moment the door opened and a tall, slender boy of seventeen or -eighteen strolled in, his hands in his overcoat pockets, his cheeks and -overcoat still wet with the driving rain. - -"Hello, girls!" he remarked, warming his hands by the blaze of the open -fire. - -"Hello, Dave!" they replied. "Where did you come from?" - -"Been over to Louis's. Queer thing about it, too," he commented, -dropping down on the vacant davenport. - -"What?" they gasped in breathless chorus. - -He looked at them inquiringly. - -"Why all the astonishment on _your_ part?" he demanded. "What do you -know about it, anyway?" - -"Oh, a lot of queer things seem to be happening to Louis lately," -explained Carol. "But go on! Tell us all about it." - -"Well, Father didn't need me to-night, so I thought I'd stroll over to -Louis's and see if he wanted a little session with that higher -mathematics course that he and I are working at together on our own -hook. I rang at the front door several times, but didn't get any -response. Then I tried the back door, with no better luck. There was a -light in the parlor, too, but, on glancing in the window, I saw that no -one was there. Mr. Meadows had evidently gone to bed. I had just started -out to the barn, thinking that Louis might be in his work-room there, -when I noticed a light in one of the cellar windows. I then felt sure -that Louis was down there, clearing up or getting vegetables for his -aunt, so I went over and peeped in, thinking to give him a surprise. It -was _I_ who got the surprise, though!" - -"What did you see?" demanded Sue in an awestricken whisper. - -"Funniest sight ever! There Miss Yvonne was standing with a lamp in her -hand, and Louis, with a pickaxe and shovel, had pried out one of the -stones in the foundation near the big chimney and was poking around in -the hole he'd made, while Miss Yvonne stared into it, those big black -eyes of hers as round as saucers. While I was still looking, she shook -her head, motioned Louis to put the stone back, and pointed to another a -little farther along. I began to feel as if I'd lit on something that -wasn't any business of mine, so instead of knocking on the window as I'd -intended, I just got up and came away. Guess they must be hunting for -buried treasure or something. Never knew they suspected the presence of -any in their old ranch. Louis didn't look as if he were particularly -enjoying the job, however." - -"Well, that's about all," he ended, suddenly remembering what, in the -excitement of the little adventure, he had momentarily forgotten,--his -superior pose toward all girls and toward his sister in particular. Then -he vanished swiftly out of the room, lest they be moved to ask him any -further questions and lest he be tempted to answer. - -After he had gone, Sue and Carol stared at each other in a maze of -excited conjecture. - -"What do you make of it?" sighed Carol. - -"I don't make anything of it," declared Sue. "It sounds too mysterious -for words. But I know this much. They weren't hunting for buried -treasure. It's for papers of some kind. I'm sure of it. But what can -they be about, and why should they be in the cellar?" - -But Carol was off on another tack. - -"At last we'll have something worth while to write about in our -journals," she remarked. "Don't you ever think again, Susette Birdsey, -that nothing exciting happens in our lives! I can fill up three or four -pages about it." - -Her companion assented absently. - -"Do you realize," she suddenly exclaimed, "that here's where we got way -ahead of the Imp? Serves her right for playing us such a mean trick and -going out of the room. I call it a piece of downright luck!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE IMP HAS THE BEST OF IT - - -December 31. This is New Year's Eve and it's nearly twelve o'clock. -Carol and I promised each other that we'd sit up and see the old year -out, and write in our journals. Carol is finishing a lovely poem she's -been writing, called, "On New Year's Eve." It begins: - - - The silent snow is falling light, - On New Year's Eve, on New Year's Eve,-- - - -That's all I can remember of it. The only trouble is that there isn't -any snow falling to-night. There's a regular thaw on, and it's -dreadfully warm and mushy. - -There's something awfully solemn about New Year's Eve. It makes you feel -sorry for all the mean things you've done, and you form all sorts of -good resolutions for the future. At least, I do, and so does Carol. But -I have my doubts about the Imp. I don't believe she is sorry for a -single thing she's ever done. She doesn't act so, anyway. - -And speaking of her, I've made it my principal resolution for the new -year to be more patient with her. I suppose every one has to have some -great trial in life, and the Imp is certainly the chief one for Carol -and me. Lately she has been more than usually infuriating. Every -afternoon during the past month she has inquired of us, "Have you -written in your journals to-day, my dears? If not, run and do so at -once." - -When she first began to say that, I made the mistake of asking her how -she knew I was keeping a journal. She retorted: - -"Oh, that's easy. I found out that Cad was, so of course I knew you were -up to the same trick. You're as like each other as two penny hat-pins." - -All I could think of to answer was: - -"Well, I don't see that it is any one's affair but our own, if we _are_ -keeping them." - -To this she returned: - -"Who said it was?" - -"You did," I retorted, "and I'll be obliged to you not to take it upon -yourself to remind us about writing in them." - -All she replied to this was: - -"Louis's folks got another cablegram this morning. You'd better put that -in." - -Then she walked off and wouldn't say another word. That's just exactly -like her. She's bound to light on the very thing you'd rather she didn't -know about. And she always seems to have inside information about -something you'd give your head to know about and never seem to get hold -of. How she knew about the cablegram, I can't think, unless she saw the -messenger-boy come up with it and questioned him afterward. - -We've never said a word to Louis about the queer thing Dave told us he -saw on that rainy night nearly a month ago. At first I wanted to, but -Carol said that it would look as if we had been spying on them, and, in -thinking it over, I agreed with her. Another thing, I felt sure that if -he wanted us to know, or thought we ought to know, he'd tell us himself -and explain what it was all about. But he never has, so either he thinks -we oughtn't to know, or his folks have warned him not to speak of it. -I'm quite certain it must be the latter, because several times he has -almost been on the point of speaking of something and suddenly stopped -short, as if he remembered he oughtn't to. Dave, of course, has been as -mum as an oyster ever since. He's a dear fellow in lots of ways, but he -does act too absurdly at present about us girls. You would think we -hadn't any more sense than babies in a nursery, the way he treats -us,--not exactly unkind, but just sort of condescending and superior. -Mother says he'll grow out of it soon. He and Louis are still great -chums, but they don't see as much of each other since Dave left high -school. - -Nothing further that's strange seems to have happened over at the house -across the Green, except for one little thing. A few days before -Christmas I went over to return to Miss Yvonne a package of spice that -Mother had had to borrow in a hurry, and I found the place in the -greatest upset. Miss Yvonne seemed to be giving the whole establishment -a thorough housecleaning, which is rather strange, for she gave it the -usual autumn cleaning only this last October. I can't for the life of me -see why she wanted to do it all over again so soon. I spoke to Louis -about it next day, and he said she was having some papering and painting -done, too. - -They were all upset during the Christmas season, and had to eat their -Christmas dinner in the kitchen. Louis says it was a miserable holiday -for him, all except our party in the evening. I can't imagine why Miss -Yvonne should do such a curious thing. And Louis says she's having one -big room that they've never used fixed up in great style,--fresh, -handsome wall-paper and new furniture and a brass bed, and everything to -match. - -"Do you think she expects any visitors?" I said. - -"Why, no!" he answered, looking awfully surprised. "She hasn't said -anything about it to me." - -Then I asked him if he knew they had received a cablegram two weeks -before, and he was astonished and said that he didn't, and asked how I -knew. I told him what the Imp had said, and as soon as he heard this, he -answered: - -"It's more of that beastly mystery, Sue, and I suppose I oughtn't to -talk about it, because I've promised them I wouldn't. I hate it! _I hate -it!_" - -I never saw Louis so worked up before. But he wouldn't go on talking -about it any more,--because of his promise, I suppose,--so there matters -rest for the present. - - -New Year's Day, January 1, 1914. I just stopped a while ago to listen to -the village church-bells ring twelve o'clock. I turned out the light and -opened the window and leaned out. It all sounded very solemn, but it -would have been much more impressive if there had been a lovely white -fall of snow, with full moonlight glistening on it. Instead of that, it -was raining and everything smelled damp and drippy. I like things to -seem appropriate, but somehow they never seem to be,--at least, not the -way you read about them in books. - -While I was looking out, I happened to glance over at Louis's house and -saw such a queer thing. Way up in one of the little attic-windows there -was a light. After a moment I made out that it was from an oil-lamp that -some one was carrying about, for it didn't remain steady long at a time. -I hated to be spying on our neighbors, but I couldn't have taken my eyes -away from that sight if I'd been offered a thousand dollars. It was -_too_ uncanny. In another moment I discovered that it was Miss Yvonne -moving slowly about in front of the immense chimney that is opposite the -window, feeling carefully of every brick and picking at them with her -fingers, as if to learn if any were loose. It seemed the strangest thing -to be doing at midnight on New Year's Eve, but all of a sudden it dawned -on me that she must be trying to discover if any brick was loose -_because_--something might be hidden behind it! - -I got so excited about it that I could hardly stand still. But the next -minute the light disappeared, and I realized that she had given up the -search and gone downstairs. Whether she found what she was looking for -or not, I don't know. Probably she didn't, or she would have stayed -longer. - -After that I shut my window, lit my light, and now am finishing this. I -wonder if Carol saw what I did? She was going to look out of her window -at midnight, too. But she couldn't have seen it, I'm sure, because her -house is on the other side of Louis's, and that attic-window wouldn't -have been visible to her. My, won't I have something exciting to tell -her to-morrow! - -Mother has just opened her door and called out "Happy New Year!" to me. -She told me to put out my light and go to bed, or I'd fall asleep at -Anita Brown's party to-morrow night--no, I mean _to-night_. I guess I'll -have to end this for the present, but I don't believe I'll be able to -sleep. Life is certainly growing more and more exciting, with your -neighbors receiving mysterious cablegrams from abroad and digging in the -cellar and hunting about in the attic at midnight and all the other -curious doings. I hope it doesn't seem like prying into their affairs to -have discovered all these things. Each time it was quite by accident. -But Mother and Father have always taught us how horrid it was to be -curious about your neighbors. Well, as long as I don't deliberately pry -or talk about it to any one except Carol, I'm sure no harm will be done. - -As this is my first entry in my journal for 1914, I'll wish everybody a -"Happy New Year" and hope this will be a glorious _good_ year for every -one in the world. - - -Sue Birdsey lay on the davenport by the fire. She was covered by an -afghan and her face was propped up on a hot-water-bag. On the table near -her was a huge packet of absorbent cotton and several bottles of -medicine. Near her hand lay a book, unheeded. Unheeded, also, was the -brilliant mid-January sun streaming in at the west windows. Of what use -are books and sunlight, indeed, in the face of a raging toothache! On -the opposite side of the hearth sat Carol, disconsolately urging a -renewal of some one of the medicines. - -"It's no earthly use!" moaned Sue. "I've tried it a dozen times. Wait -till the Imp gets back with that stuff your Aunt Agatha recommended. -I'll try that, and if it doesn't stop it, I'll walk straight down to the -dentist and have it out." - -"I believe it's going to ulcerate," remarked Carol, like the "Job's -Comforter" she was always inclined to be. - -Sue's only reply was to hurl a sofa-cushion at her and subside again on -the hot-water-bag. No further remarks were exchanged. The sun sank in a -few moments and the room grew dark. Carol turned on the light and -muttered something about how long the Imp was. After a few more gloomy -moments, punctuated by groans from Sue, the door was flung open and the -Imp rushed in, bringing a blast of chilly air with her. - -"Here it is!" she cried. "I had to wait an awful while for him to get it -ready. You fix her up, Cad." - -While Carol administered the remedy according to directions, the Imp -straightened out the rumpled afghan and refilled the hot-water-bag. She -could be singularly helpful in case of sickness or an emergency, and -seemed actually to delight in being of use,--a change of demeanor that -never failed to astonish the other two girls. So accustomed were they to -regard the Imp as their sworn enemy that this angelic demeanor quite -disarmed them. - -Five minutes after the remedy had been applied Sue sat up with a jerk. - -"Hurrah! The pain's all gone. It went like magic. I feel like a new -creature. No more of this for me!" She rose from the couch, pushing away -the signs of her temporary invalidism. "Imp, you certainly are a trump. -Come, Carol, let's get at our work for to-morrow." - -Ten minutes later they were busy at the long table, and the Imp again -settled on the couch, apparently deep in a book. It was Sue who looked -up after a while, to find her eyeing them with the pleased, quiet, -provoking smile whose meaning they had come to know so well. The desire -to investigate its cause proved, as usual, irresistible. - -"What are you grinning at, Bobs?" Sue demanded. "You look as pleased as -Punch. Anything happened?" It was well always to placate her by -appearing agreeable. - -"Oh, nothing special!" she replied, in a manner that made them perfectly -certain there was something very special. "I happened to notice a while -ago that an automobile drove up to Louis's gate, and that Miss Yvonne -got out and began to give the chauffeur a regular tongue-lashing in -French, because he'd driven up from the station over the joltiest road, -instead of taking the smooth one. He doesn't understand French, so he -didn't in the least get what she was driving at. It made me laugh." - -"But what under the sun was Miss Yvonne coming up from the station in -an automobile for?" Carol exclaimed. "She hasn't been away. She hasn't -even been to Bridgeton, for I've seen her around early this afternoon. -She always walks up from the village. You must be crazy." - -"She walked down to the village about four o'clock," the Imp informed -them. "I saw her start off. And I guess she had good reason to come back -in an auto." The Imp went on reading after this, just as if she hadn't -any idea that she was driving them wild. - -"Well, what _was_ the reason?" inquired Sue, trying to look only mildly -interested. "Was she ill, or did she have a lot of bundles to carry, or -was she in a great hurry?" - -"I'll tell you the reason," answered the Imp, "if you'll give me that -nice, fat, new blank-book you bought the other day. It's worth it, too." - -"I'll do nothing of the sort!" Sue cried indignantly. "I have a special -use for that book,"--as a matter of fact, she was going to re-copy her -journal in it--"and I'll find out some other way." - -"You won't find out anything before to-morrow afternoon, probably," the -Imp returned, "for Louis isn't going to school. He told me so." - -Sue made up her mind that she wasn't going to give in to her, but Carol -broke up that intention. - -"Oh, give it to her!" she whispered. "I've another just as good that you -can have. And I'm wild to hear what's up across the Green." - -Sue handed the blank-book across to the Imp, and said, as witheringly as -she could: - -"Here, take it, if you want it as badly as that! Of course you know -you're taking a mean advantage of us, but that's nothing to you. Fire -away!" - -"I thought you couldn't wait till to-morrow," the Imp retorted. "Well, -here goes. Miss Yvonne rode up in an auto because--she had some one with -her." - -"Who _was_ it?" cried Carol impatiently. "Don't dole out your -information in little drops. Tell us the rest." - -"I didn't ask the person's name," said the Imp, in that maddeningly -polite way she sometimes assumed. "It didn't seem any affair of mine." - -"Naturally," Sue answered, as calmly as she could. "We'd only be much -obliged to know whether it was a man, woman, girl, boy, or baby. Please -remember you've got the book and that you haven't paid for it yet." - -"I always pay my debts," she answered, trying not to giggle, "and I only -agreed to tell you the reason why Miss Yvonne came up in the auto. I've -done that. But since you're so hard up for information, I'll hand out a -little more small change--just because I'm sorry for you. It was a man, -a very old man, all wrapped up in a big fur coat." - -"Did Louis know he was coming?" Carol demanded. - -"Oh, no! Louis didn't know," answered the Imp, "but I did; for I heard -Miss Yvonne telling old Mr. Meadows yesterday, when they were out by -the barn, that all was ready for 'Monsieur's' arrival to-morrow." - -"You're a mean little thing to be always eavesdropping about," cried -Sue, "and meaner yet never to tell us a word of what you hear." - -"You're quite mistaken if you think I eavesdrop, as you call it," -retorted the Imp indignantly. "I was in plain sight all the time -yesterday, patching up that snow-fort of Louis's, and they both saw me. -Only Miss Yvonne spoke in French, and I guess she doesn't know that I -understand it. As for not telling you two anything, I'd like to know why -I should. You never tell anything to me, that is, if you can possibly -help it." This was entirely true, as they were bound to confess. - -The Imp took up her book and marched huffily to the door. But before she -left the room she turned and called back: - -"It's a thankless job trying to be nice to you two. You're absolutely -ungrateful. And I'll tell you right now, I know one piece of -information, besides all this, that you'd give your eye-teeth to -hear,--but you won't. It's about who this mysterious 'monsieur' _is_!" - -With that she went out, slamming the door behind her. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE MYSTERIOUS "MONSIEUR" - - -There had been a heavy fall of snow during the night. It lay on trees -and hedges in great, powdery clumps, and drifted over the Green in huge, -wind-swept hillocks. But the sky that afternoon was blue and cloudless, -and the click of snow-shovels rang out on the still air. In front of the -Birdseys' gate Carol and Sue were frantically shoveling a footway, not -because they had to, but for the sheer joy of exercise in the -invigorating air. - -"It's queer we haven't seen anything of Louis since that visitor came," -commented Carol. "He's missing a lot of time at school, and I'm sure he -hates that." - -"Yes, it's three days since 'Monsieur,' as the Imp calls him, came. We -haven't seen anything of _him_, either," added Sue. "Do you suppose -he's going to stay shut up and invisible all the time? Who do you -suppose he is, anyway, and doesn't it make you furious to think that the -Imp knows, or says she does, and that we don't?" - -"There's Louis now," was Carol's only reply. "He's just come out to -shovel his walk," and she waved her own shovel to him in greeting. - -In another moment Louis had strolled over to join them. He was of medium -height, a slenderly-built fellow, with short-cropped, wavy, chestnut -hair and fine brown eyes. He also possessed a smile that was peculiarly -winning. - -"Hello, you strangers! I thought you'd be out this afternoon. Isn't it -ripping weather?" he greeted them. "Where's Dave?" - -"He's gone to Bridgeton with Father," answered Sue, "but where have -_you_ been all this time? Not sick, I hope?" - -The boy's face clouded and he dug his shovel viciously into a snowbank. - -"No, not sick, but dilly-dallying around the house, helping to wait on -that old gentleman. They don't seem to care how much time I lose." - -It was the first time the girls had ever heard him speak so bitterly. - -"We heard that you had a visitor," said Carol, striving hard to seem -only politely interested. - -"Oh, we have a visitor, all right, but I'm blest if I know why he's -taken up his abode with us, nor even who he is, for that matter." - -At this rather astonishing statement both girls looked somewhat -startled. - -"I know it sounds queer to say it," went on the boy, "and I'm not sure -they'd thank me for saying it, either, but it's the honest truth, and -I've got to say it to some one, or I'll explode with indignation." - -"But what do you call him, if you don't know who he is?" queried Sue. - -"Well, he _says_ his name is Monsieur de Vaubert, but I strongly doubt -it. I found his handkerchief lying on a chair yesterday, and it had the -initial F on it. Later I asked Aunt Yvonne what his first name was, and -she said 'Philippe.' So can you figure out where F comes in? I can't." - -"All that Aunt and Uncle will tell me about him," he went on, "is that -he is a descendant of an old friend of my father's family in France; -that he has always been much interested in me and has come over here to -visit and make my acquaintance. It sounds all right as far as it goes, -but I'm morally certain that that isn't the whole of it. They treat him -as if he were some sort of high mogul, and he treats them in the most -politely condescending manner you ever saw. But the way he acts toward -me is a caution. In some ways you'd think I was the Grand Lama of Tibet, -and that he was my most humble slave. Then at other times he gets so -dictatorial about my studies and work and the way I spend my time that I -just have to hold on to something to prevent going up in the air. I -confess that I don't know what he's driving at, and I could chew his -head off sometimes, I get so mad. And yet in other ways he's a fine old -chap, and I can't help but admire him. Here he comes now. He said he -would come out a few moments this afternoon." - -They all looked across the Green as he spoke, to see the figure of an -elderly gentleman, very much muffled up in a fur coat, slowly pacing -down the walk. He seemed about seventy-five years of age, and he walked -with a visible stoop, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent -slightly forward. His eyes were black and piercing, and his hair and -mustache were almost white. His nose was sharp and eagle-like, and his -whole appearance was very distinguished and foreign. Both Sue and Carol -were decidedly impressed. - -"Well," added Louis, "I must go back and be polite, I suppose, and also -shovel my walk. By the way, I'll be over at your house, Sue, to-morrow -evening, if it's convenient, and get some idea from you girls of what -I've been missing at high school all this week. Tell Dave I'll spend an -hour or two with him afterward. So long!" - -After he had left them the girls went on with their shoveling, but they -could not, for the life of them, keep from gazing occasionally across at -the mysterious stranger on the other side of the Green. They saw Louis -return and speak to him for several moments, pacing along at his side, -and later he left him to commence a vigorous attack on an unshoveled -path. - -Then they saw a curious thing. Monsieur de Vaubert, stopping short in -his pacing, stared almost aghast at Louis. Next, striding up to him and -snatching the shovel from his hand, he spoke loudly and rapidly in -French, as if in remonstrance. They heard Louis expostulating in the -same language and exhibiting every sign of disagreement and dismay. At -length he shrugged his shoulders hopelessly and turned to go into the -house, leaving Monsieur to continue his pacing alone. - -"Well!" exclaimed Carol. "What on earth do you make of _that_?" - -"It looks very much as if 'Monsieur' didn't approve of Louis's -snow-shoveling," commented Sue, wonderingly. "But why? Do you know, I -believe he thinks Louis is delicate and oughtn't to exert himself. What -a crazy idea! Louis is really as strong as an ox, even if he is slender. -He can throw Dave at wrestling every time, even if he is lighter in -weight. I can imagine how furious it must make Louis to be coddled that -way." - -They went on digging industriously. Suddenly Carol whispered to Sue: - -"For pity's sake, look at that!" - -It was the Imp, who had evidently walked up from the village and was -just passing Louis's house. On beholding the visitor still pacing up and -down the walk in the sunlight, she had called out, "_Bon jour, -Monsieur!_" She had been answered by the most courtly of bows, and "_Bon -jour, petite Mademoiselle Helene._" Then she passed on, turning the -corner of the Green toward her own house. - -The two girls stared at each other, speechless. - -"Will you tell me how under the sun she came to know him?" gasped Sue, -indignantly. "And she never has said a single word to us about it!" - -"Don't ask me," returned Carol. "Find out from her, if you can. She's -the most exasperating mortal I ever came across." - -The Imp came on gaily, waving to them as affably as if she were quite -unaware of the shock she had just given them. They did not acknowledge -her salute,--a mistake they were sorry for later. - -"How long is it since you became acquainted with 'Monsieur'?" demanded -Sue, as soon as she had joined them. She did not try to keep annoyance -out of her voice. - -"Oh, a whole twenty-four hours has elapsed since the event!" grinned the -Imp, more impishly than usual. "Didn't I tell you?" - -"You know perfectly well that you didn't!" cried Sue. - -"Well, I'm sorry,--since it seems to worry you so much. Louis introduced -us yesterday afternoon. We met just outside of Louis' gate. Monsieur was -taking the air just before the snow began, and, as it happened, so was -I. You two might have been, also, if you hadn't felt so lazy and hung -about the fire indoors." As usual, she had hit them on the raw. They -might have known it! - -"I think he is quite charming," went on the Imp amiably. "We had a long -talk. He praised my French accent, and says that he prefers to call me -'Mademoiselle Helene,' instead of 'Bobs' or 'Bobbie' or even 'Roberta.' -He asked me a lot of questions about this place and the village and all -that, and finally he told me why he came here." - -"He _did_?" gasped the two girls. "What was the reason?" At that moment -they could have hugged her for seeming so communicative. - -"I'll tell you," she answered with dangerous sweetness. "He came over to -see Louis!" Their faces fell, but they tried hard not to show their -indignation. - -"Of course," agreed Sue, "but _why_ did he come over here to see Louis? -That's the question." - -"If I told you _that_, I wouldn't have any interesting secret of my -own," answered the Imp loftily. - -Then, feeling her revenge complete, she sped away into the house, -leaving the puzzled and indignant pair behind her. - - -January 20, 1914. Louis told us the _strangest_ thing to-night. I must -write about it before I go to bed. It makes this mystery about the queer -old gentleman at his house deeper and deeper. He came over (Louis, I -mean) to our house to-night, as he said he would yesterday. But he -seemed perfectly furious about something, and instead of wanting to -study, he said he'd just have to tell us what had happened, or burst. -Fortunately, Carol and I were alone. If the Imp had been around, I just -couldn't have stood having her hear everything that we did. She knows -too much already,--sometimes I think a great deal more than we -do,--about all this, and I'm glad to get ahead of her on something. -Anyhow, this is what Louis told us: - -"This morning was the limit," he began. "I thought I'd take a spell at -working on that little motor-boat I'm building in the old feed-room at -the back of the barn. I haven't done much at it lately, because the -weather's been so cold. But to-day was mild, and I thought I could make -a lot of progress. You know I've saved up enough of my pocket-money for -the engine, and I'm going to send for it next month. Well, what must -Monsieur do, but trail out to the barn after me. I couldn't very well -prevent him, so I let him come along, but I didn't explain what I was -doing there till we got into the room. - -"And, if you'll believe it, no sooner did he lay eyes on that cedar -hull, and realize that it was my work, than he flew into a towering -passion. He stamped around the room, muttering a lot of things in French -that even I couldn't understand, though I caught the expression, 'The -blood of that mechanic--_always_--_always!_' repeated several times. I -was simply speechless with astonishment, and just stood staring at him -open-mouthed. - -"All of a sudden he raised his cane and hit the boat a horrible whack -right on the gunwale. It made a dent that I don't suppose any amount of -tinkering or painting will ever remove. Then I 'saw red,' as they say. -The idea of his presuming to do such a beastly thing! I just rushed at -him, tore the cane from his hand, and threw it straight through the -window. It smashed the glass and sash and everything. And I shouted, -'How dare you! How dare you!' I guess I was really too furious to think -what I was doing. But it had the strangest effect on Monsieur. - -"He stopped suddenly, and his face, from being a brick-red with anger, -went perfectly white. He drew himself up in a sort of military way, as -stiff as a poker, and then bowed very low and made a military salute. 'I -beg a thousand pardons, Monsieur. I am deeply sorry!' he said. I asked -him what in the world he meant, anyway, but he only kept repeating that -he was 'deeply humiliated at his fit of temper,' and begged me to think -no more of it. Then I asked him if he didn't approve of my making the -boat, and he said, 'No; that I was cut out for something better than -that laborer's work.' - -"That remark made me madder than ever, and I asked him if it was not a -good piece of work, and oughtn't any one to be proud of doing a thing -like that so well. He only replied that I had far other things to be -proud of, but I noticed that he didn't say what. So I just faced him. - -"'Look here,' I said. 'Just tell me one thing, like a man, won't you? -What are you here for, anyway? Am I the descendant of some duke or -marquis or that sort of thing, and are you here to try to get me to go -back to France and be one myself?' You see, what Carol said the other -day sort of stuck in my crop, and that boat business rather confirmed -it. I went on to say to him, 'Because if that's so, you needn't bother. -I won't go!' - -"He didn't say a word for a minute or two. He just stood staring at me -as if he'd never seen me before. Then he said, very quietly: - -"'No, Monsieur. You are quite mistaken. It is something vastly -different, and I cannot explain it now. You must be content to wait. -But, be assured, it will both astonish and delight you when it is -disclosed.' And with that he walked off and took to his bed again, I -guess, for I haven't seen him since. But I've been 'hot under the -collar' ever since at the damage he did to my boat." - -"Well, all that is mighty strange," I said, another idea suddenly -dawning on me. "He doesn't seem to want you to do any work. Was that why -he objected to you shoveling snow yesterday?" - -"The very thing," replied Louis. "I was astonished when he said to me, -'Where is that Meadows and his servant? Why are you required to do this -menial work?' I tried to explain to him that I liked it and was doing it -for exercise, but he simply couldn't understand. He kept exclaiming, 'It -is not fitting!' till I got so disgusted that I gave it up. If this sort -of thing keeps up, I'll run away to sea or do something desperate. I -declare I will!" - -"Are you glad, Louis, that you're not a duke or a marquis or anything -like that?" I asked. "I should think you'd have thought it fine." - -"I'd simply detest it, Sue," he answered. "I don't want to be anything -but an American citizen--_ever!_ But if this mystery business doesn't -clear up soon, I'll be a raving lunatic." - - -Well, I'm disappointed myself to have Carol's nice theory all knocked to -pieces, for it would have been so romantic and unusual. But if it isn't -that, what on earth _can_ it be? - -And _how_ much does that wretched little Imp know? - - - - -CHAPTER V - -TWO ACCIDENTS AND A MYSTERY - - -February 17. I'm writing this under a good deal of difficulty, for my -left hand is in a sling and this blank-book slips around dreadfully. The -truth is that I had quite an accident the other day, and have been laid -up ever since. It was the day after I last wrote in my journal. We'd had -a heavy fall of snow overnight, followed by a hard frost. The coasting -on Eastward Hill was gorgeous, and we spent the whole of the next -afternoon there. Just at the last the Imp suggested that we try the -slide down the north slope of the hill. It's ever so much steeper than -the one we usually take, and is considered rather dangerous. - -Louis said we'd better not, but the Imp begged so hard that we agreed to -try it just once. So Louis took Carol on his bobsled, and the Imp and I -had the other. She was steering, because she's awfully good at that. -They went first, and we followed. Everything went finely at the start. -It's the most exciting thing going down that steep slide, and I was just -enjoying it when suddenly something went wrong. I'm not sure yet just -what it was, but the Imp says there must have been a buried branch or -something under one of our runners. - -Anyhow, the first I knew I was lying with my head in a snowbank and my -left arm doubled under me in the queerest manner. The Imp had been -landed in the bank, too, but she wasn't a bit hurt and was up in a -jiffy, dragging me out. First I thought I was all right, but when I -stood up my left arm began to hurt me so that I thought I'd die with the -pain of it. They put me on one of the sleds and hustled me home in a -hurry, and Louis went for the doctor. - -He said it was only a sprain, but that I must stay in the house for a -while and take good care of it. So here I've been ever since. The Imp -has been an angel. That sounds funny, but I mean it! She nearly died of -remorse at having been the cause of my accident, and she can't do enough -for me. She waits on me hand and foot, and hasn't teased or been a bit -exasperating once. To show how angelic she can be, I must write what she -told me yesterday. She came in from a walk to the village, where she'd -been to get me some grapefruit, and announced: - -"What do you think? I walked back most of the way with Monsieur. His -things have come." - -"What things?" I asked, astonished, for I knew that his trunks came the -day after he arrived. - -"Oh, didn't you know? A few things he brought with him. Two or three -pictures and a big lot of books." - -"But what did he bring over things like that for?" I demanded. "If he's -only here for a visit, it's rather queer for him to be carting books and -pictures about with him. I shouldn't think he'd be staying long enough -to make it worth while." - -"I think he's going to stay quite a long while," the Imp replied. -"Perhaps it will be a year or more, judging from what he says." - -"How do you know all this?" I asked. It aroused all the old, jealous -feeling again to think that she knew so much more about it than I did. - -"Why, this way. You see, we were walking up together, and we'd got about -as far as Louis's gate when we both noticed a cart, with those things -piled on it, standing there. Miss Yvonne was talking to the driver. -Monsieur suddenly said, 'Ah, my things have come! That is well!' Then he -turned to me and said, 'They are my most precious possessions. I never -travel far without them.' I said it was too bad that they'd been delayed -so long getting here from the steamer. For you know he's been here -nearly a month. Then he said, 'They were not delayed, Mademoiselle -Helene. I did not send for them at once because--I was not sure I should -stay. Now I feel that my stay may be long.' - -"Wasn't that queer?" added the Imp. "Why do you suppose he first -thought he mightn't stay long, and then decided that he would?" - -"Perhaps he likes it here better than he thought he would," I suggested. - -"Nothing of the sort!" answered the Imp. "He hates it. He told me the -climate was abominable. He didn't see how any one could exist in it." - -"Then it must be because he likes the Meadows' and Louis so much," I -decided. - -"I don't think that has anything to do with it," replied the Imp. "I'm -certain it's something else. He's staying on because things haven't gone -the way he'd planned. If they had, he'd have gone right home. I've -figured that much out about him." - -We didn't have any more time for talk just then, for Mother came in to -say that dinner was ready. But I've been thinking and thinking ever -since about what the Imp told me. She was never so communicative with me -before. It's worth while to have a damaged arm, but I wonder how long it -will last. I wish Carol were over here right now, so that I could tell -her. But she has a cold, and I haven't seen her for two days. - -It has seemed rather curious to me, right along, that we young folks -were the only ones who seemed interested in Louis's affair and the new -visitor. I wondered why. But something that was said at table last night -made me realize that we are, after all, the only ones who know much of -the _inside_ of that affair. For instance, Mother said to Father: - -"Who is that queer old gentleman visiting across the Green? He seems -like a foreigner." - -"Monsieur something-or-other," Father answered. "I didn't catch his -name, though Louis tried to introduce us the other day, when they were -passing where I was working in the north pasture. I've never quite -understood the Meadows' household, anyway. They seem queer and -foreign--all but Louis. He is a true American boy. I've often wondered -where John Meadows hailed from. He brought Louis here as a small baby, -and I never knew where he came from. He would never say much about it. -By the way, Simpson wrote that we could have that new fertilizer next -month." - -And that's all they thought or cared about it. But, at any rate, their -conversation had given me one bit of news--about Louis having been -brought here as a little baby, and that folks didn't know the Meadows' -people before. I'd always supposed that they had lived here all along, -too. I wonder if Louis knows this? I wonder if I had better tell him? I -don't know. Somehow that, and the news the Imp brought to-day, has made -me feel about as mixed up as possible. I can't make head or tail of -anything. I wish Carol were here. - -I've just been looking over this journal from the beginning, noticing -all the queer things that have come up about Louis since I began it. I -think I'll put them down in order and see if it will help me to make -anything out of the strange situation. - -First, the queer way that Louis's folks have always treated him and the -fact that he isn't any real relation. That looks to me very much as if -his antecedents or his forefathers or whatever you call them must have -been of some different station of life from the Meadows people. And yet -Louis says their families have always been old friends. At any rate, -they must feel, for some reason, responsible for him to some one, or -they wouldn't be so careful about him. By the way, that some one must be -"Monsieur"; who else _could_ it be? - -Next there were those mysterious cablegrams. Of course they were from -"Monsieur," but what did he mean by saying, "The time is ripe"? Sounds -as if some sort of plot was being hatched. And then about those papers. -_What_ are they, and _where_ are they? Have they anything to do with -Louis? I suppose they must. Does Louis himself know anything about them? -He has never said a word to us. - -Besides, there was that queer performance when Miss Yvonne had Louis dig -in the cellar at night. I'm simply positive she must have been hunting -for the papers then, and also on New Year's Eve in the attic. I believe -they must be documents to prove that Louis is to come into a great -fortune, perhaps one that his ancestors left him. Yes, that's a brand -new idea, and I'm certain it's nearer the truth than anything we've -thought of yet. "Monsieur" is probably the family lawyer in France, and -has come to straighten everything out. Hurrah! I do wish Carol was here, -so that we could talk this over. It's a much more sensible idea than the -one that Louis is the descendant of some titled person. It would explain -a number of things,--why "Monsieur" doesn't like Louis to do any work, -and that sort of thing. And probably, too, that's why they would like -him to go back to France and be a statesman, since he can't be a duke or -a marquis and flourish around with the nobility. I suppose it's the next -best thing, in their estimation. - -It might even explain, too, why "Monsieur" expects to make so long a -stay here to get things all straightened out. Oh, I'm so glad I thought -of this! I can hardly wait for to-morrow to come, so that I can tell -Carol. And I believe I'll even tell the Imp, too. She's been so decent -to me of late that I'm willing to do 'most anything for her. - - -"Ahoy, girls! Come over and see the big smash!" - -It was the Imp who thus hailed the two girls as they were coming home -from the village one Saturday afternoon early in March. She was one of a -group that was standing in Louis's front yard, and the girls hurried -over to see what it was all about. They found that a fine old -cherry-tree had been half blown over by a high wind the night before, -and now it threatened to fall at the slightest jar. Its fall would do -serious damage to the fence near which it stood. Louis had decided to -chop it down so that it would fall in the opposite direction. It was not -the first time that he had had the experience, and he rather enjoyed the -thought of the task before him. It was quite evident, however, that -"Monsieur" did not at all approve of this scheme. He paced back and -forth on the path, muttering impatiently to himself in French and -occasionally urging Louis to be extremely careful. - -As this was the first time that either Sue or Carol had met "Monsieur," -Louis stopped long enough to make the introductions. Monsieur bowed -formally and murmured that he was "charmed to meet mesdemoiselles," but -there his interest in them ended, and he continued to pace back and -forth and mutter to himself. - -Once the Imp poked Sue and whispered: - -"He says, 'Always, always this servant's work!' He's been having a fit -about this ever since they came out. But Louis was determined to get it -done. Monsieur certainly does make him mad and nervous, though." - -The tree was almost ready to topple over, when an unfortunate thing -happened. It may have been that Louis _was_ nervous, or that his foot -slipped on a patch of ice, or that it was a combination of both. At any -rate, just as the ax was raised for one of his most telling blows, he -missed his aim and brought it down directly on his left foot. With a -slight groan, he dropped to the ground. An instant later blood began to -pour from the wound in sickening spurts. So sudden had it all been, that -his watchers hardly realized what had happened till the spouting blood -revealed the accident. - -Immediately all was confusion. Monsieur uttered a cry that was almost a -scream and, stooping down, tried to lift Louis in his arms. Miss Yvonne -rushed out, wringing her hands and screaming, too, in her excitable -French fashion. Old Mr. Meadows raised the parlor-window and stood -calling out all sorts of impossible directions, half in French and half -in English. Carol turned as white as a sheet and looked as if she were -going to faint away. She usually did at the sight of blood. Only the Imp -seemed to have any sense left. She called out to Carol: - -"You run to our house and telephone for any doctor you can get, either -in the village or at Bridgeton!" - -Then she said to Monsieur: - -"Please let Louis alone. He'll bleed to death if you lift him that way." - -Lastly she turned to Miss Yvonne: - -"Don't you think that between us we could manage to carry Louis into -the house? I'll hold his poor foot so that it won't bleed so much." - -It was almost absurd to hear that small child giving everybody orders, -but it was rather fine, too. And somehow it restored them to their -senses. Carol went flying off to telephone, only too glad to get away. -Miss Yvonne stopped screaming and lifted Louis in her strong arms, while -Sue held his head and Monsieur his uninjured foot. - -Louis had fainted by this time. The Imp held his injured foot in such a -way that as little blood as possible escaped. Sue admitted later that -she would scarcely have had the nerve to do it, even if she had been -able. She was very much hampered, because her left arm was still in a -sling, so that all she could do was to hold up the boy's head with her -right hand. - -Somehow or other they got Louis into the house. Monsieur insisted that -they carry him up to his (Monsieur's) room, though the others thought it -would have been better to take him to his own room on the ground floor. -But Monsieur would have his way, and they got Louis there somehow. By -the time they had laid him in the big brass bed, Carol came flying back -to say that she couldn't reach a single doctor in town. Every one was -out. But she had managed to get a promise from Dr. Langmaid in Bridgeton -that he would come over directly in his car, as soon as he could leave a -serious surgical case that he was treating in his office. - -Meanwhile Louis's foot was still bleeding horribly. Something had to be -done at once. Miss Yvonne had got his shoe and stocking off and was -bathing the horrid wound, but that didn't help much. No one but Sue -seemed to know how to stop the bleeding and she was practically helpless -because of her hand. The reason she knew was because she had just -finished a course of "First Aid to the Injured" lectures that had been -given to the Young Girls' Club in school by a trained nurse. Carol -didn't take the course, because she hated all that kind of thing and it -made her sick. But Sue had enjoyed it. One of the principal things she -had learned was about the tourniquet and bandaging. But how was she to -do anything with only one hand? Suddenly the idea that she could give -the Imp directions and let _her_ do it dawned on Sue. The Imp was so -quick that she would understand in a wink. - -So Sue asked Miss Yvonne if she'd tear up a sheet for some bandages, and -told the Imp that if she'd do as she told her, she thought they could -stop the bleeding. Miss Yvonne went right to work, and the Imp followed -Sue's directions well, while the latter did what she could with one -hand. They used a buttonhook for a tourniquet, and in five minutes -Louis's foot was bandaged roughly and not bleeding any more. Monsieur -had been spending the time in bathing Louis's head and holding ammonia -to his nose. Presently Louis came to and tried to ask what was the -matter. But they made him stop talking, because he was so weak from loss -of blood. - -After that there wasn't anything to do but wait for the doctor, so they -sat around the room, not talking and all looking nervous and -embarrassed. - -At last Dr. Langmaid arrived. He came jumping upstairs two steps at a -time. After he had taken one look at Louis's foot, he said: - -"Whoever did that bandaging had good common sense. Perhaps it saved his -life." - -That was all, but it made Sue feel proud for the Imp. The Imp, however, -declared that it was Sue's work, for she would never have known how to -do it herself. At any rate, after that the doctor turned out every one -but Miss Yvonne, and they stayed there with Louis for an age, while all -the rest waited downstairs for news. At last the doctor came down and -told them that Louis had almost severed an artery, but that he had -broken no bones. He sewed up the wound and left directions that Louis -was to stay in bed for some time and have careful attention, lest -blood-poisoning set in. But he said it was a miracle that nothing worse -had happened, and left his compliments for the two young ladies who did -the bandaging. At which the Imp and Sue pinched each other and took -their departure. - -It was after they had left the house and were walking across the Green -to their own home, their knees still shaking with the excitement they -had experienced, that the Imp remarked: - -"Did you see the queer thing that hung on 'Monsieur's' wall, right -opposite to the bed?" - -"Why, no," answered Sue. "That is, I suppose I did, but I was so nervous -and worried that I can't remember anything about it. I hardly took my -eyes from Louis. What was it, anyway?" - -"Three pictures, but the only one that I could see was the middle one. -It was a life-sized picture of a little boy about six or seven, I should -think. He had big brown eyes and brown wavy hair, and was quite a pretty -little chap, but he was dressed awfully queerly. I guess the picture -must be quite old, for his clothes weren't like anything that's been -worn for years. I wonder why 'Monsieur' carts it around and has it -hanging there. Must be some relation, I suppose, or some child of whom -he was very fond." - -"But I thought you said his clothes were so queer and old-timey," -suggested Sue. "I imagined from the way you spoke that they must be of a -fashion more than a hundred years old." - -"I guess they were, too," admitted the Imp. "I had thought that perhaps -the boy was a son or a brother, but I guess he was from way before -_that_ time." - -"Must be some famous ancestor, then," said Sue. "By the way, what did -you mean by saying that the boy's picture was the only one you could -see? If the three pictures were all hanging on the wall at the foot of -the bed, you could see the other two just as well, I should think." - -"No, I couldn't; and for a very queer reason," replied the Imp darkly. - -"Oh, for gracious sake, don't begin to tease!" cried Sue impatiently, -suspecting that the Imp was up to one of her usual tricks. "Things have -been so exciting, and you've been such a dear, that I hate to have you -spoil it by beginning that 'mysterious' business." - -"But it _was_ mysterious," argued the Imp, "and you'd have seen it for -yourself, if you'd only had your eyes about you." - -"Well, what was it?" sighed Sue. "I'm afraid you're making a whole lot -out of nothing." - -"I'm _not_!" cried the Imp. "And I'll prove it this minute. I _couldn't_ -see those two other pictures because--they both had a heavy, dark silk -covering of some kind stretched completely over them, frames and all! -_Now_ will you believe me?" - -At this curious bit of information even doubting Sue had to admit that -the Imp was right. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -IN MONSIEUR'S ROOM - - -March 8, 1914. I thought the last entries in this journal were pretty -exciting, with two accidents to tell about, but they were just nothing -to what's been happening since. My arm is all right again; no trouble at -all, except for a slight stiffness. So that's all about that. But -_Louis_! - -For the first two days after his accident he seemed to be doing nicely. -None of us saw him, for the doctor had ordered that he be kept very -quiet. When we went to inquire, Miss Yvonne said he was better and in no -pain, and that he wanted to see us all, but that he must be quiet for a -while. Then, on the third day, her face was very grave. - -"He has fever," she said. "It is not high, but the doctor is not -pleased. Louis is restless, and his foot is swollen. We are all anxious -about him." - -I repeated her words to Father, and he said: - -"Poor boy! Blood-poisoning, probably. I'm sorry for him. Was that ax -very rusty?" - -I replied that it was, for I remember that Louis remarked about it at -the time and said he could do better work if the ax was cleaned and was -sharper. Father shook his head and said they'd have to keep a careful -watch on him now. - -Next day matters became worse. From then till this evening we have been -frightfully anxious, and the Meadows' family and Monsieur grew almost -frantic. It was blood-poisoning, and the doctor said it was so bad that -he doubted if he could save Louis's foot. At that, Monsieur sent -post-haste to the city for a famous surgeon, and after days of working -over him Louis is to-night pronounced out of danger. When I went over -this evening to get the news, Miss Yvonne cried when she told me. I -cried, too, and I saw Monsieur coming downstairs, his eyes suspiciously -moist. What a relief! - -They have had two trained nurses, and one of them will stay till Louis -is much stronger. Miss Yvonne is quite worn out with work and worry, and -she looks like a shadow of herself. Old Mr. Meadows appears to have -grown ten years older in a week, and seems very feeble. As for Monsieur, -in the few glimpses I've had of him he looks as if he hadn't had a wink -of sleep for four days. As a matter of fact, I heard that he hadn't gone -to bed and slept since Louis became so ill,--just napped while sitting -in a chair. - -I haven't slept well myself, and neither has Carol. Even the Imp has -been very much concerned. She continues to be awfully decent to us, but -I wonder how much longer it will last. Not long, I'm pretty sure, after -Louis is well again. I know her too thoroughly to be deceived into -thinking she has turned over a new leaf for good! - -Now for bed and a long, peaceful sleep for the first time in a week! - - -March 13. To-day, for the first time, I have seen Louis. He was much -better, and he wanted to see us so much that Miss Yvonne sent over the -servant to tell us that we three could come over (Dave had gone -yesterday), but that we all had better not see him at once. Carol and -the Imp and I went over. One by one we were allowed to go up to the -room. But we were warned that no one must stay more than five minutes, -and that we mustn't talk to Louis about anything exciting. - -Carol went first, but she didn't stay anywhere near her five minutes, -for I timed her by the parlor clock. It seemed as if she had scarcely -had time to go up and walk into the room before she must have walked out -again. She came down looking awfully solemn and scared, and whispered: - -"He looks awful,--as if he'd been _so_ sick! I was frightened. The -trained nurse was there, and Monsieur, too. I didn't know what on earth -to say, so I didn't stay but a minute." - -Then the Imp went up, and I guess she was more successful, for she -stayed two minutes over her time. We heard her say, "Hello, old sport!" -as she entered the room, and we even heard a sound like Louis's laugh. -Then there was a great chattering in French, and I knew that she and -Monsieur were talking together. When she came down she said that -Monsieur had been thanking her for what she did on the day of the -accident, and that she had been trying to convince him she hadn't done -anything, except to obey my directions. He wouldn't stand for that, -however, and insisted that she had been the means of saving Louis's -life. Nothing she could say would persuade him differently. - -Then it came my turn, and I went up with my knees shaking, like the -silly goose I am, for there was nothing on earth to be afraid of. But -somehow it always did seem a solemn thing to me to see a person for the -first time after he has been so near to death. But they shook worse when -I got into the room and saw how really awful Louis looked. He is like a -thin shadow of his former self, and _so_ white and hollow-eyed. He's -never been sick before, to any extent, so I never dreamed he could look -like that. - -I murmured something or other to Louis,--I can't remember what,--and -then Monsieur began to thank me in very elaborate and formal English for -what I had done on the day of the accident. I tried to answer that it -wasn't anything, and I could easily see that he didn't think it _was_ so -much, compared to what the Imp had done. But Louis spoke up in the -weakest voice, and declared: - -"Sue is a trump! _I_ know what she did, for I wasn't unconscious _all_ -of the time. Between them they patched me up beautifully." - -But Monsieur wasn't much impressed. It's plain to be seen that the Imp -is _his_ favorite. I don't care a scrap, however, since Louis said what -he did! - -Well, I couldn't think of another thing to say, so I bade Louis good-bye -and took my departure. But before I left the room I snatched a good long -look at those pictures. I've been thinking of them constantly, ever -since that first day, and longing to see them. It certainly was queer -to see those two so tightly covered. There's something about the one of -the boy that haunts me, though. I don't know why. Carol and I have -talked it over and over, and we can't make it out. The trouble is that -she practically hasn't seen it at all. That day of the accident she -didn't come into the room, for she was telephoning the doctor. She -didn't want to come in, anyway, because she knew she couldn't stand it. -And to-day she only caught the smallest glimpse of it, because she was -so upset when she came out of the room. - -The nurse says that next time we go to see Louis we can probably stay a -little longer, if he continues to improve. - - -March 15. We all went in again to-day. Monsieur was not there, to -Carol's and my great relief, but the nurse was. I warned Carol -beforehand to take a good look at the portrait this time, and she did. -She says she feels as I do about it, as if she'd seen it, or some one -like it, somewhere before. And yet she's _sure_ she hasn't, really. I -don't understand it. - -Louis is beginning to make all sorts of plans about what he will do when -he's well again. He's wild at having to be away from school and lose so -much time, but we've promised to keep all our notes for him, and that -will help a lot when he goes back. - -The Imp has returned to her old tricks again. I knew she would when the -excitement was over. She told me that she met Monsieur on her way to -school this morning, and that she walked all the way to the village with -him. He was going down to get some medicine for Louis. But she startled -me to pieces when she added: - -"I asked him who that nice little boy was whose picture he had in his -room. He said he'd tell me if I'd promise to keep it a secret. I said -that I certainly would, cross my heart." - -"So he told you?" I asked, trying not to act as if I cared a bit. - -"Why, certainly," the Imp answered, with that wicked gleam in her eye. -"He did as he said he would. I'd be glad to tell you, but, of course, -I've promised not to." - -"Did you ask him why he kept the other two pictures covered?" I -inquired. - -"Yes, I asked him that, too, but he said it was for a reason he couldn't -explain at present." - -The Imp wouldn't have told me if he _had_ explained. I'm positive of -that. And what's more, I simply can't believe that he told her all about -the other one. She can make things sound so mysterious, when there's -really nothing to them at all. However, I can't be certain, even of -this. Maybe he really did explain, though why he should make her promise -not to tell is a puzzle. - -I'm not going to think about it any more just now. It makes me too -furious. - - -March 22. Such a strange, strange thing happened to-day. Dave went with -me to see Louis this afternoon, for the Imp had to go on an errand to -the village, and Carol was in the house with another severe cold. Dave -went up first, stayed quite a while, and then went on home. - -Miss Yvonne took me up and told me that the nurse was out for the -afternoon, and that Monsieur was lying down in Louis's room. So, for the -first time since his accident, I actually saw Louis without a lot of -other people in the room. We chatted for a while about school matters -and what we had all been doing while he was laid up. And Louis told me -how much better he was, how he was soon going to be allowed to get up, -and that the nurse was going in a few days. After that we were both -quiet for a few moments. It was one of those pauses that sometimes come -in conversation, which get so prolonged that you hardly know how to -break them. Then, just to end the silence, I asked Louis why Monsieur -had insisted on his being in this room, and how inconvenient it must -have been for Monsieur. To my surprise, Louis became much excited and -said: - -"I can't think whatever made him do it that day! _I_ didn't want to be -here. I'm horribly uncomfortable about it all the time. I _hate_ it! It -would have been so much more sensible to have put me in my own room on -the ground floor. And, Sue, what do you think?" Here Louis sank his -voice to a whisper. "I came to myself one day, out of a sort of stupor -that I'd been in, and found him kneeling by the side of the bed and -actually _kissing my hand_! I was so astonished and disgusted that I -snatched it away, weak as I was. He never said a word, but rose and -walked out of the room. What does it all mean?" - -"I'm sure I don't know, Louis," I replied; "but tell me, do you know -anything about those portraits that hang on the wall opposite your bed? -Why are two covered up, and who is that boy in the middle?" - -To my astonishment, Louis seized hold of my arm and whispered: - -"Sue, Sue, I hate those pictures. I hate that one in the middle. I'm -_afraid_ of it! I--" - -Before he could say any more we heard Miss Yvonne coming up the stairs -to tell me that my time was up and that Louis must rest. And so he -couldn't go on. - -But why, _why_ does Louis hate the picture of that boy, and why, above -all things, is he afraid of it? Was there ever so curious a mystery? - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE IMP MAKES A DISCOVERY - - -Despite the fact that Sue and Carol boiled with impatience for over a -week, conjecturing what it could possibly be that made Louis afraid of -the picture in Monsieur's room, they found out nothing new on the -subject, for the simple reason that there was never a moment when they -again saw him alone. To ask him about it when others were in the room -was impossible. Two days after Sue's last visit he was allowed to sit -up, and a day or two after that he was permitted to walk about for a few -steps. Then the nurse took her leave, and Louis insisted on returning to -his own room on the ground floor. - -"And only to think," sighed Sue, when she heard of it, "now we'll -probably never see those strange pictures on Monsieur's wall again. I -could cry with vexation when I think of it. Carol, do you feel as if -there were something terribly mysterious about them,--not only the two -covered ones, but the boy's, also? I wonder if it haunts you the same as -it does me?" - -"It certainly does," admitted Carol, "and yesterday I wrote a little -poem about it. Here it is. What do you think of it?" - -She handed Sue a scrap of paper on which the verses were written. The -two girls had dropped off the trolley on their way home from high -school, and were bound for the library. Sue took the paper and studied -it carefully as she walked. - -"I like it a lot," she acknowledged, as she handed it back. "Especially -those last two lines: - - - 'O boy of nut-brown hair and smiling eyes, - Speak out and tell the secret that you know.' - - -Really, it's awfully pretty and the best thing you've done yet. Why -don't you show it to Miss Cullingford. It hasn't any direct reference -to Louis's affairs in it, and I'll warrant she'd recommend it to be -published in our high school paper, _The Argus_." - -"Well, perhaps I will," agreed Carol, visibly pleased with Sue's -unstinted praise. She folded the paper back into a book as they went up -the steps of the library. - -It was while the two were wandering round the big, sunny room, scanning -the shelves for an interesting book, that they made a startling -discovery. - -"Will you look at that!" whispered Carol, suddenly pinching Sue as they -were passing the door of the smaller reference room, a spot they -themselves seldom entered. There, near a shelf of immense volumes, -stood--who but the Imp! She was deeply engrossed in the pages of a tome -nearly as large as herself. The sight was the more amazing because the -Imp was neither a member of the library, so far as they knew, nor did -she ever enter it, if she could help it, except rarely to get a book for -the girls. - -The two stood rooted to the spot with astonishment. Suddenly the Imp -caught sight of them. She promptly closed the book and slipped it back -on the shelf. All she would admit in reply to what she felt to be their -intrusive inquiries was the statement: - -"I'm looking up something on the advice of Miss Hastings. I guess I -don't have to explain everything to you." After which remark she marched -majestically out of the room. - -The girls tried to guess from the shelf where she had stood what book -she had been consulting, but as it was a long row of encyclopedias, all -exactly alike, they could not glean the least inkling. Giving up that -course, they questioned the librarian on the way out, and found that the -Imp had joined the library several days before. - -"Did you ever know anything to beat it?" demanded Sue, as they passed -down the steps. "What can she be up to? I know she's awfully bright and -reads lots of books that interest grown-folks, but she's so lazy about -things and so crazy just to be outdoors that she never thought it worth -while to join the library before." - -"She said," Carol reminded her, "that her teacher, Miss Hastings, -advised her to look up something. You know she always tells the truth, -at least." - -"That's true," admitted Sue, "but it must be something out of the -ordinary, or she would simply have come to us and bribed us to go and do -it for her. And besides, in her class they don't have to look up things -in encyclopedias; they haven't got to that yet. No, I'm certain it's -something else." - -Wondering about the Imp's strange behavior, they harked back, as they -walked homeward, to that other subject that was constantly puzzling -them. - -"Do you know," said Carol, "I believe that I've come to agree with you -in your theory about Louis and Monsieur. You know I didn't when you -first told me, because I was awfully disappointed about his not being a -count or a duke. But now I think that you're right. Monsieur is probably -the family lawyer, and Louis is going to inherit a big French fortune. -But if that is the case, why is it that Monsieur seems to be trying so -hard to make Louis like him? You remember, Louis said the other day that -he constantly feels as if Monsieur were doing everything in his power to -win his affection, for some reason or other. If he were only a family -lawyer, he wouldn't care a penny whether Louis liked him or not. And why -was he kissing his hand the other day? I'm half-inclined to believe that -he's some relative--a grandfather or an uncle or something. Yet he could -scarcely be that, and the lawyer, too. Isn't it a puzzle?" - -"But don't you remember that Miss Yvonne told Louis he wasn't any -relative?" Sue reminded her; "only an old friend of the family." - -"Susette," remarked Carol solemnly, stopping stock still in the middle -of the road, "you may call me all kinds of an idiot if you like, but I -want to tell you one thing. I've been feeling lately that there's some -mystery here, bigger than anything you or I imagine. It's just a -feeling I have, but it haunts me continually. I'm _certain_ something is -going to happen that will make us gasp with astonishment. And when that -does happen, I want you to remind me of what I've said to-day. I'm sure -I'm right. I feel it in my very bones, as Aunt Agatha often says." - -And Sue, much impressed, as solemnly promised to remind her. - - -March 27. There's something that the Imp is up to,--something that she -has discovered. I'm as certain of it as I am that my name is Susette -Birdsey. The reason I know this is because of what happened to-day. - -Carol and I had gone down this afternoon to Anita Brown's to go over -some English history with her for an exam we're going to have in a day -or two. Anita is great on history, and somehow can make it seem so -simple and sensible and easy to remember. I don't know how she does it, -but we always like to study that subject with her and get her to explain -all about the succession of kings and what relation they were to each -other. She has the knack of making them seem like real people. - -Well, we had stopped at her house on the way from high school, so we -hadn't been home this afternoon. About half-past four we left, and -happened to come out of her gate just a little behind two people who -were walking up the road. (Anita lives about half-way between our house -and the village.) It didn't take us an instant to recognize those two -people as Monsieur and the Imp. Carol was all for hurrying along to join -them, but I said no, we might just as well keep to ourselves, for they -probably didn't care for our company, anyway. So we kept on behind them, -and they were talking so fast and hard that they didn't even notice us. - -Presently the Imp did a queer thing. She opened her school-bag, took out -a book--it wasn't a school-book, either!--opened it at a certain page, -and showed something to Monsieur. Whatever it was, it had the strangest -effect on him. He gave one look at the page, then stopped stock still -in the road and stared at the Imp, making a queer sound in his throat, -as if he were trying to clear it and didn't succeed very well. Then he -said something in French that we caught the sound of but couldn't -understand. But the Imp was evidently so excited that she forgot to -speak French, for we heard her say in English: - -"Then I'm right, Monsieur? It's the same? I was sure it was." - -And he answered: - -"_Oui, oui, petite mademoiselle!_" (I know enough French to translate -this as "Yes, yes.") - -After that the Imp went right on to chatter in French. But by this time -we'd made up our minds that it was high time _we_ were let in to that -little secret, so we hurried to catch up with them. But the Imp saw us -too quickly. She shut the book, slipped it back in her school-bag, and -by the time we had joined them they were conversing sedately in English -about the weather. - -When we reached our own gate the Imp went off about her own devices, -with never a word about the queer performance on the street. But Carol -and I made up our mind that we'd take a peep at that book in her -school-bag when she wasn't around. So when she had gone upstairs for a -while, we opened the school-bag that she had flung down on the couch in -the living-room. - -But when did we ever manage to get ahead of the Imp? She had carefully -removed that book, and it was nowhere to be found. I remember noticing -that it was a thick book with a light green cover, and there was nothing -even faintly resembling it anywhere about, so far as we could discover. -What she could have done with it, or when she could have taken it out -without our notice, beats me. Leave it to the Imp, however, to -accomplish that sort of trick. - -Of course we plainly saw that there was nothing we could do, except to -question her, and we debated the longest time about whether to do so or -not. It's such a hopeless performance, if the Imp has made up her mind -beforehand that you're not going to find out anything from her. Carol -suggested that we ask her right out what she had discovered that -Monsieur was so interested in. I told her there was only one kind of -answer to expect to _that_, so what on earth was the use? - -I thought I had a better scheme. The Imp has been wild for a long time -to have a fountain-pen like the one I bought in Bridgeton two months ago -for a dollar. I was going to save up and give her one for her birthday. -But that's a long way off yet. So I suggested to Carol that I offer to -let the Imp have mine, and then buy a new one with the dollar Uncle Ben -gave me at Christmas. She said it was an awful waste of a good pen, and -might not accomplish what we wanted, anyway, but that I could try it if -I liked. - -So a little later, when the Imp came in where we were studying, I began -on the subject, but very carefully, so that she wouldn't suspect -something right at the start and spoil everything. After she had settled -herself to read--it was _my_ book, by the way!--I began thus: - -"You and Monsieur seemed to be having a nice time while you were coming -up the road this afternoon. Does he think you talk good French?" - -The Imp glanced at me warily, but replied in an amiable manner: - -"Oh, yes. He says I'm the only person he's met in America, except Louis -and his folks, who speaks it with a decent accent." - -Then she went on reading. It was plain that _she_ wasn't going to give -us any opening, if she could help it. - -"Do you always talk to him in French?" I went on cautiously. - -"Yes, always. He likes it best," she answered, without looking up again. - -"But we heard you say something to him in English this afternoon," I -ventured, for I had a scheme as to just how I was going to trap her. For -a wonder, she fell into it. - -"I didn't! I don't remember saying a word in English." - -This was just what I had thought. She was so excited at the time that -she _hadn't_ remembered. - -"Oh, but you _did_!" broke in Carol. "We heard you say: 'Then I'm -right? It is the same? I was sure it was.'" - -"You horrid things!" burst out the Imp. "Always tracking me around and -eavesdropping! You once accused _me_ of that, but I think the tables are -turned now." - -"Look here," I said, and I felt downright mad, "you know perfectly well -we weren't doing anything of the kind. We happened to come out of -Anita's house right behind you, and we refrained from joining you at -first because we knew you didn't want us. We couldn't help it if you -talked so loud that we could hear what you said." - -She calmed down at that, and I seized the advantage and determined on a -bold stroke. - -"Bobs dear," I said, in as friendly a way as I could, "we know you've -discovered something about Monsieur or Louis or some one from what you -said and did this afternoon. Won't you tell us about it, too? You know -we're awfully interested. And just to show you that we only mean to be -friendly, I'll give you that new fountain-pen of mine, if you care to -have it. I don't mean it as a bribe, but only to make you feel that we -aren't really hateful." - -At this her eyes fairly sparkled for a moment. Then she shook her head. - -"I can't do it, girls, much as I'm crazy to have that pen. Honest, I -can't. I'm not teasing you about it this time, either. I really _have_ -discovered something quite important, and it just happened by accident, -too. But Monsieur was so upset about it, and asked me so politely not to -say anything to any one, that I just feel it wouldn't be right. I think -I took him terribly by surprise. I don't know what it all means yet -myself. There's something awfully mysterious about things over at -Louis's. And really, you've been so decent to me lately that I'd tell -you if I could, even without the pen." - -Well, that was too much for me. I knew she meant every word she said, -and I could understand, too, why she felt she couldn't tell us. So I -just gave her the pen, anyway, and she was so happy and grateful. She -said: - -"It's all right, girls. You're trumps! And I'll do something for you -yet, never you fear." - -But only to think that it was the Imp who made the first real, important -discovery about this mystery! Well, things do happen queerly. I wonder -what in the world she can have discovered? - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE PORTRAIT OF MYSTERY - - -It was well into April before Louis came back to school, looking a -trifle thin and pale, but otherwise not impaired by his serious -accident. Carol and Sue traveled back and forth with him on the trolley -several times, but never once picked up courage to ask him the question, -the answer to which they were burning to know,--why had he been afraid -of the strange portrait in Monsieur's room? - -It was not till one evening when he had come over to see Dave that the -subject was broached. Dave was detained out in the barn, helping his -father with a sick farm-horse, and while they were waiting for him in -the living-room the talk drifted to Monsieur and his devoted kindness -during Louis's illness. - -"He simply couldn't do enough for me," the boy asserted. "Beginning -with his insisting on my having his room, he loaded me with delicacies -and attentions of every sort the whole time. I began by quite despising -him, but he's been so jolly good to me that I've just _got_ to like him, -whether or no! Honestly, it's almost pathetic sometimes, he tries so -hard. I feel like a brute if I don't respond in just the way he wants me -to. He's stopped talking about all the things he knows I don't care for, -and even stands for my talking about mechanical engineering and that -sort of thing. And that's going some for _him_!" - -"Louis," ventured Sue, a little timidly, "do you mind telling us now why -you hated and were afraid of that portrait? You were going to tell me -that day, if you remember, when we were interrupted." - -The boy looked hesitant for a moment. Then he replied: - -"I believe I might as well. It can't hurt any one that I can see. I've -had the most peculiar feeling about that picture ever since my accident. -Before that I'd seen it, of course, but had never thought much about -it, and those two others that are covered I only thought were just -another eccentricity of Monsieur's. He's awfully eccentric, anyway, -about a number of things. But after I landed in that room with my -chopped foot, and had to stay there when I didn't want to and lie -staring day and night at that picture at the foot of my bed, first I -began to hate it and then I actually became afraid of it. You'll hardly -believe me, girls, when I tell you that I covered up my head with the -bedclothes at times, when I was alone in the room, so that I wouldn't -have to look at it." - -"But _why_?" interrupted Carol. "What was strange about it?" - -"Well," Louis answered, "it's not so much that there's anything strange -about the picture _itself_; it's more the way it made me feel and the -way Monsieur acted about it and--well, a dream I had about it one -night." - -"A _dream_?" the girls exclaimed. "What was it?" - -"I'll get to that presently," he said. "But first I want to tell you -what Monsieur said about it. A day or two after I was taken to that room -I asked him whose portrait it was. He said he would tell me all about it -some time, but that all he could say at present was that the child had -been one of the world's heroic martyrs. That, of course, didn't give -_me_ much information, but it made me a little more interested, and I -used to lie and stare at it by the hour, wondering how in the world a -youngster of six or seven could have been what he said. - -"Then came the time when I took that turn for the worse, and they -thought it was all up with me. I had a terrible fever and was delirious, -too, I guess. And that wretched picture haunted me the whole time. -Sometimes it seemed to be coming toward me rapidly, growing larger and -larger, and the eyes would glow like balls of fire. I used to scream out -loud, because it somehow seemed as if it would wrap itself round me and -crush me. Then it would seem to retreat way off where I could hardly see -it, and almost disappear through the wall. At other times it would turn -over, hang upside down, and cut up all sorts of antics. And all the time -I couldn't seem to take my eyes from it. - -"The last night that I was so very ill I had an awful dream about it. I -thought that suddenly I looked at it, and a queer change had happened to -the whole thing. Instead of the youngster being dressed up in that natty -little silk coat with lace frills at his neck and wrists and the -jewelled star on his chest and the little riding-whip, his clothes were -all queer and ragged. He had a bright red cap of some kind on his head, -and his hair was matted and tangled. Instead of being plump and smiling, -he was thin and half-starved looking, and the tears were running down -his cheeks. And while I looked, he suddenly held out his arms to me, as -if for help. I felt as if I must get right out of bed and give him some -assistance,--I simply _must_. And I guess I tried, too, for I remember -the nurses held me down. Even after I was much better, I couldn't seem -to get over the horror of that dream. I hated to look at the picture -after that, for fear I'd see it again the same way." - -"But you also said," Sue reminded him, "that Monsieur acted queerly -about the picture, too. What did he do?" - -"Oh, yes, that's another thing," added Louis. "He used to stand in front -of it the longest time, gazing at it as steadily as if it were the most -wonderful thing on earth. Next he would turn and stare at me, and then -look back again at the picture, till I could have yelled, it made me so -nervous. It was mostly when he thought I was asleep or in a stupor, but -I wasn't either one of those things half as much as they thought I was. -Once he came and stood over me, after I had had my eyes shut for a long -time, and I heard him muttering something about 'the temple look,' -whatever he could have meant by that. It all seemed horribly uncanny. I -didn't like it at all. I never was so glad of anything in my life as to -get out of that place and back to my own room at last." - -"But, Louis," began Carol, in an awed tone, "whatever do you suppose -caused you to have that queer dream? It's one of the queerest things I -ever heard. Did Monsieur ever say anything to you about the picture that -would make you think of a thing like that?" - -"Not a single thing," declared the boy stoutly, "except what he said -about the 'heroic martyr' business, and I can't believe I would have -made up the rest out of my head. It's singular--" - -At this moment, however, Dave came in, and the conversation shifted to -other topics. - - -April 8. Carol and I debated a long while as to whether it would be a -good idea to tell the Imp what Louis had told us last night. At first -Carol was shocked at the idea of such a thing, and she looked at me as -though I'd proposed to dynamite her house. But I reminded her that the -Imp had been awfully amiable to us of late, and really it mightn't be -such a bad scheme to let her into this, especially as she had some -inside information of her own that some time she might be able to give -us the benefit of. This settled Carol's doubts, so to-day we told the -Imp. - -When we came to the part about Louis's dream, she grabbed my arm and -said: - -"Are you making this up, or is it really true?" I never saw her so -excited before. - -"Of course it's true!" I said. "It's just exactly what Louis told us." - -"Then it's the queerest thing I ever heard of," she exclaimed. "O girls, -I wish I could tell you what I know! You'd be so startled that you'd -jump out of your boots. If only Monsieur hadn't asked me not to mention -it to any one!" - -"Haven't you even told Louis?" I asked. - -"No. Monsieur particularly asked me not to speak of it to Louis. He -asked me to promise him that I would not, and he seemed _so_ upset about -it. But I think I know why now. I've tracked down a whole heap of things -lately. Some time I'll let you two in on it, if I can do so without -breaking any promises." - -The Imp can be a trump when she wants to be. I wonder if we have -_permanently_ got on the right side of her at last? - -To-day I persuaded Carol to show her poem, "The Mysterious Portrait," to -Miss Cullingford. She only agreed to do so for this reason. Our paper, -_The Argus_, is offering a prize of five dollars for the best poem -handed in by any member of the freshman class. I don't believe there's -another one who can write as well as Carol, and this is her best piece -of work. So at last she consented to let Miss Cullingford criticize it -for her, before she submits it to the contest committee. I'm just crazy -to have Carol get the prize. - -She says Miss Cullingford took it and read it over,--it's not very -long,--and then began to ask her some questions about it. They were -principally about where she'd seen this portrait. Carol told her it was -in the house of a friend, but didn't say anything that would give Miss -Cullingford any clue as to where it really was. Miss Cullingford told -her that the poem was very good, and asked her to describe the portrait -to her a little more in detail. Carol did this as well as she could -from memory. At last Miss Cullingford told Carol to leave the verses -with her for a day or two, as she would like to consider them at her -leisure. It looks rather promising for Carol, I think. - - -April 9. Another awfully strange thing happened to-day. Our last hour -for the day was English literature, and when it was over Miss -Cullingford asked Carol to come to her after dismissal, as she wanted to -talk to her a while about her poem. So Carol went to her room, but I -didn't wait, because I was anxious to get home and help Mother with a -new dress she's been making for me. I told Carol that I'd watch out for -her when she came home, and run out to the gate to hear what Miss -Cullingford had said about the poem. Carol said she wouldn't have but a -minute to spare, because her mother and her Aunt Agatha were going to -take her to dinner with some friends at Bridgeton, and so would be -anxious for her to hurry and dress so they could catch the four o'clock -trolley. - -I went home by myself and sewed hard for an hour or so. About five -minutes of four Carol came rushing up the road and dashed in at her -gate, late as usual. I grabbed up my coat, and hurried out to catch her -before she went into the house. She was breathless with running, and her -eyes had the wildest look. I thought it was because she was so late, but -she panted out: - -"O Susette! I'd give _anything_ if I only had the time to talk, but -Mother and Aunt Agatha will be wild at me, as it is. I'm _so_ late! But -what do you think? You'll never guess. I've found out _whose portrait -that is in Monsieur's room_!" - -I was simply stunned. - -"I don't believe you!" I cried. "This is just a trick. You can't catch -me that way." - -"No, no! It isn't a trick. It's _true_!" she panted. "You'll have to -wait till to-morrow. I'll tell you all about it then." And she was gone -into the house without another word. - -This is simply _horrible_. Can I _ever_ wait till to-morrow? - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -CAROL MAKES A DISCOVERY OF HER OWN - - -To Sue, the night that followed seemed endless. The mere idea that Carol -had actually discovered something, and then hadn't even had a chance to -give her the faintest inkling about it, was enough to keep her from a -wink of sleep. But dawn came at last, and with the first light she was -up and dressing frantically. If she had thought of it, she might have -known that her chum would not be about for the next three hours. -Breakfast on that day was only an empty form, and no sooner was it over -than Sue snatched up her books and rushed madly from the house, much to -the amazement of the rest of her family. - -Never doubting that she would hear the whole story from Carol as they -walked to the village, she was filled with despair when she found that -Carol's Aunt Agatha proposed to walk down with them, in order that they -might assist her to carry a heavy basket of things she was taking to -some sick woman in the village. Aunt Agatha's progress was slow, and to -Sue's agonized signals Carol could only shake her head and dumbly -signify that her friend must wait till later for revelations. - -But even this was not the end. Also waiting for the trolley was Louis. - -"Do you mind telling him, too?" whispered Sue. - -"I'd rather not," returned Carol. "I really don't think I ought to yet!" - -This only added to the mystery. Louis wondered much at their -unresponsiveness that morning, and, in fact, during all the school day -and the returning trip that afternoon. For not another moment offered -itself as entirely suitable to the tale that Carol was to unfold. Once -they had reached the Green, however, Louis betook himself about his own -affairs, and the two girls were left alone with their secret. - -"Come up to the den in our barn," said Carol. "That's where I want to -tell you." - -"But it'll be cold," objected Sue. "Can't you come into the house?" - -"No. I don't want to be interrupted, and I've something to show you," -insisted Carol darkly. - -Consumed with wonder, Sue obediently followed her up the hay-loft -ladder, and they locked themselves into the chilly, hay-scented den. - -"Now do begin at once!" exclaimed Sue. "I never spent such an awful, -maddening day of suspense in my life. Don't wait a minute!" - -"I'm just as crazy to tell you as you are to hear it," responded Carol. -"Do you think _I_ haven't been boiling with impatience all day? Well, -here goes! Susette, it's the queerest thing in the world, the way I -happened across this. It's all through Miss Cullingford. That day, after -I'd described the picture to her as well as I could, I remember that she -looked puzzled and said, 'That somehow sounds familiar to me.' But I -didn't think anything of the remark at the time, because I was too -interested in what she was going to say about my poem, and I soon -forgot it. But yesterday, when I went to her after school, she asked me -if I'd recognize the picture if I saw it again, and I said that of -course I would. Then she suddenly drew a book out of her desk and opened -it at a certain page. And, Sue, will you believe me when I tell you? -There was a copy of that _very same picture_, right before my eyes!" - -"Well, for goodness sake, tell me who it was, or I'll die of curiosity!" -cried Sue impatiently. - -"That's just what I don't know," Carol answered. "But I have the book -here. It belongs to Miss Cullingford, and she offered to lend it to me. -Of course, when I saw it, I acted surprised, but not half as much so as -I felt, because I didn't want to have to tell her anything about Louis. -I only said that it seemed to be the same picture, and she said it must -have been some copy that I'd seen, for the portrait was a famous one, -painted by a famous artist. Then she went on to criticize my poem, and -made one or two suggestions about some little changes in it. She said -that if I made them, she thought the poem stood a fair chance of -winning the prize. Then she offered to lend me the book to take home and -read, because she thought I might be interested in it. She little knew -how _desperately_ interested I was! But come! Let's look at it for -ourselves, and see if we can find out anything we'd like to know." - -Carol took the book out of a desk where she had locked it, and opened it -at a certain page. And there, staring right up at them, was the selfsame -picture that hung in Monsieur's room,--the "boy of nut-brown hair and -smiling eyes." Only of course the picture was in black and white, not -colored as in the oil-painting. But it was the _same_; you couldn't -mistake it. And underneath the portrait it said, "The Dauphin of -France." - -"Carol," said Sue, after she'd read it, "will you tell me what on earth -a 'dauphin' is?" - -"I haven't the faintest idea," answered the other. "I never heard the -word before, and I haven't had a chance to look it up anywhere. It looks -something like the word 'dolphin.' Perhaps it's the French for it. And -yet I don't think that is likely. A dolphin is some kind of a -sea-creature, like a porpoise, isn't it? So it _couldn't_ have any such -meaning here." - -"But what is this book?" asked Sue. - -They looked at the title, and it was, "Memoirs of Madame Lebrun." Carol -said that Miss Cullingford had told her that it was an account of the -life of a famous French artist and of the pictures she had painted. As -that didn't give them any special help, they turned the pages eagerly, -but couldn't seem to find out a thing about this particular picture that -interested them. - -"Wait a minute," said Carol. "I'll run into the house and look up the -word in our big dictionary. Maybe I can find it there." - -She came flying back after a few moments, all excitement, panting: - -"It _was_ there! I didn't dare hope it would be. It gave a whole lot -about how the word originated. We weren't so far off the track when we -thought of 'dolphin.' It _did_ come from that! But anyhow, the -principal meaning was, 'The eldest son of the King of France. The heir -to the throne.' It also says that there isn't any such title in France -now." - -After that they just sat and stared at the picture in silent amazement. -What in the world could it all mean? If they'd been confused before, -they were now more muddled than ever. Suddenly an idea occurred to Sue. - -"Which dauphin do you suppose it was?" she questioned. "There must have -been a lot of them." - -"Maybe we could find out if we read the book through," suggested Carol -helplessly. - -The task, indeed, appeared herculean. Neither of the girls were in the -least interested in memoirs, or in any other literature of that "dull" -class. Both had frequently acknowledged that only stories of adventure -and mystery and excitement contained the least interest for them. There -seemed, however, no other way out of this tangle. - -"Well, all right! If we must, we must, I suppose," said Sue. "I'd -attempt 'most anything for the sake of solving this mystery. Suppose we -read it aloud, turn and turn about. But for goodness sake, don't let's -try to do it up here. We'll freeze. What if people _do_ see us with it? -They'll probably only think we're reading it for study. The Imp might -suspect something, but she--" - -Suddenly Carol interrupted with: - -"See here! Why not _tell the Imp_? She's evidently found out a lot of -things on her own hook, and she even said she might tell us about them -some time, if she could. Perhaps we've got ahead of her on this. I'd -just enjoy getting ahead of her for once! Let's tell her and see what -happens." - -It was now Sue's turn to demur. Carol was so insistent, however, that -she finally gave a reluctant consent, and they went out to hunt up the -Imp. A little triumphantly Sue led her younger sister up to the loft, -and with just a touch of patronage she promised her the surprise of her -life when she got there. But to their intense chagrin, the two girls -found, as they had discovered many times before, that they had, so to -speak, to get up very early in the morning to get ahead of the Imp. - -"Look!" cried Carol, exhibiting the picture. "What do you think of -that?" - -The Imp gave it only one disdainful glance. - -"Huh!" she sniffed. "Aren't you a little late in the day? I discovered -the same thing about a month ago in the same book, or in one just like -it!" - -The two sat staring at her in stunned silence. Then Carol glanced at the -book. - -"It's so, Sue," she murmured. "It's the very same kind of a book that we -saw her showing to Monsieur that day. Look at the light green cover." - -It was indeed the same! But the Imp had had her triumph and now could -afford to be magnanimous. - -"Since you've discovered the same thing," she said, "I'll tell you how -_I_ happened to come across it. Our teacher, Miss Hastings, recently -brought and hung up in the schoolroom some pretty new pictures. One that -I liked very much was called 'The Girl with the Muff.' One day I asked -Miss Hastings something about it, and she told me who the artist was and -said there was a book in the library about her, with pictures of her -other paintings in it. Next day she brought the book to school and let -me look at it. And, girls, it was this book, or one like it, and while I -was looking it over I almost jumped out of my shoes to come across this -very picture. I didn't say a word about it, though, but just went and -joined the library and got the book out and read it all." - -"And did you find out who this dauphin was?" Sue asked breathlessly. - -"I certainly did," answered the Imp, "and a whole lot more besides." - -"Well, who _was_ he, then?" - -"I wonder if I ought to tell you?" said the Imp reflectively. "You see I -promised Monsieur I wouldn't say anything about what I had discovered. -As you can guess now, I showed it to him, and it quite took him off his -feet with surprise. He begged me to say nothing about it to any one." - -"Look here!" exclaimed Sue suddenly. "You told us once, quite a long -while ago, that you asked Monsieur one day who the picture of the 'nice -little boy' in his room was, and that he told you then. So how could he -be surprised when you found it out later?" - -Sue thought she'd surely caught the Imp _that_ time. But the other only -laughed. - -"He only told me just what you said he told Louis--that it was one of -the world's 'heroic martyrs.' I was teasing you girls into thinking I -knew it all. You'd been pretty hateful to me just around that time." - -"I thought as much!" said Sue. "But we'll forgive you now, if you'll -tell us what you know. There can't be any harm in it, since we've -discovered just what you have." - -But the Imp wouldn't have been herself, if she had acted in a way like -ordinary folks. She stood and thought it over for a moment, keeping them -on tenter-hooks all the time. Then she remarked: - -"No, I don't honestly think it would be keeping my promise, if I said a -word to you about it. I'm going to keep _that_, whatever else I do. But -I'll open the book at one picture before I go, and that's all the hint -I'm going to give you." She took the book and laid it open at a certain -place, and then dashed down the stairs before they had time to say -another word. - -The two girls almost fell over each other in their hurry to see what the -picture was. It was a beautiful woman, and underneath it were the words, -"Marie Antoinette." - -"What in the world has _she_ got to do with it?" demanded Sue. "Of -course we all know who _she_ was. Didn't she get killed, or something, -in the French Revolution? But what has that to do with this dauphin?" - -"Perhaps she was some relation," suggested Carol. "If she was the queen, -maybe he was her son?" - -"Tell you what!" Sue interrupted. "Let's go to the library to-morrow and -hunt up some book on the French Revolution, or some other French -history, and see if we can clear this thing up. I'm not going to wade -through _this_ book. It doesn't seem to say a thing about what we want -to know." - -Carol agreed that this seemed the best course to pursue. Plainly, it -would be useless to consult "Madame Lebrun" any further. They took the -green book that had given them its startling revelation and hid it -safely in the desk. Then they turned to go. Suddenly Carol faced her -friend. - -"Susette Birdsey, what do you make of all this, anyway? What has it to -do with Monsieur and--with Louis?" - -"I'm as much at sea as ever," admitted Sue. - -"Well, you remember what I told you the other day," remarked Carol -impressively. "There's more here than we have ever dreamed. I'm more -firmly convinced of _that_ than ever!" - - - - -CHAPTER X - -JOTTINGS FROM THE JOURNAL - - -April 12, 1914. Well, we've found out all about that dauphin, and an -exhausting piece of work it was. I never waded through so much history -before in all my life. If the Imp hadn't given us that hint, though, it -would have been far worse, for we wouldn't have had the least idea where -to begin. - -We went to the library this morning and spent till lunch-time there, and -then went back again this afternoon. As it was the Easter holidays, we -fortunately had all the time to spend on it that we wanted. But I must -tell all about what we've discovered. Some of it is very, very -confusing. We can't understand what it can possibly have to do with -Louis, and yet there are things about it that make us sure that it -somehow has _something_ to do with him. - -To begin with, there isn't a shadow of doubt that this portrait is of -the dauphin who was the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, king and -queen of France around the time of the French Revolution. They seemed to -be having a pretty mixed up and bloody time in France just about that -period, and everybody had it in for the royal family and all the -nobility. The common people somehow got control of things, and first -they put the king and queen and dauphin and his sister in prison, and -then they killed the king and queen. The dauphin was a little boy of six -or seven at the time, and they didn't kill him, but kept him a prisoner -for three years in a place called the Temple Tower, till finally he died -of neglect. I think it said that he died in 1795. - -It just made us wild to read about how shamefully they treated that poor -little fellow. They gave him in charge of a horrible, cruel cobbler, -named Simon, who beat and ill-used him abominably,--just because he -happened to be the child of a king,--and then afterward they shut him up -in a room by himself, where he never saw a single soul for six months, -and handed him his food as they would to a dog in a kennel. At the end -of that time they appeared to be a bit sorry for the way they'd acted, -and let him come out into a decent room and tried to take a little -better care of him. But it was too late, for he died soon afterward,--as -I should think he would after standing that kind of treatment for three -years. - -Carol and I got so worked up over the thing that we almost cried. We -felt awfully to think that a poor, innocent, little chap should be -treated that way by people who were fighting for liberty and justice, as -the French were. It didn't make any difference if he _was_ a king's son. -He had just as much right to be fairly treated as any one, and _more_, -because he was so little and helpless. I don't wonder that Monsieur said -he was one of the world's heroic martyrs. One book said that he was -always so sweet and gentle and winning. His pretty manner at times even -softened the hearts of some of his cruel jailers. - -Well, that's the history of the dauphin. He would have been Louis XVII, -if he had lived to become a king. The portrait of him must have been -painted before all the trouble broke out. At that time the poor little -fellow could not have dreamed what he was going to suffer later. It's -well that he didn't know. - -As there didn't seem to be any more to find out, we decided we'd better -go home. - -I was longing for a chance to tell the Imp what we'd discovered, but she -had a bad sore-throat from getting her feet wet this afternoon, and -Mother had put her to bed. So I must wait till to-morrow. But since I've -had an opportunity to sit down and think this all over quietly, I've -been trying to see what connection all these things can possibly have -with affairs across the Green. So far, however, nothing but unanswered -questions has been the result. - -For instance, I can _not_ understand why Monsieur should consider that -portrait as one of his most treasured possessions. Of course the story -about the boy is terribly sad, but unless he was some relative of -Monsieur's (which is quite impossible), why should Monsieur cherish the -picture? He never saw the child, and can't possibly have any affection -for him. I don't understand it. And what are those two other pictures, -so carefully covered? Perhaps they are more portraits of the same child, -painted later and too sad to be looked at? I'd love to know. - -I wonder, too, if Louis knew about this dauphin, would he still continue -to hate the picture? Or would he be afraid of it? I'm just crazy to tell -him, yet I suppose it wouldn't be fair,--at present, anyway. Good -gracious! An idea has just occurred to me. I happened to think of that -strange dream Louis said he had when he was sick. Was there ever -anything so curious? I remember that he said the little fellow seemed so -changed, with ragged clothes and matted hair and tear-stained cheeks and -a red cap on his head! Why, that is just the way one of those books -described him after he was put in charge of the cobbler. Simon took away -all his nice clothes and made him wear a red "liberty-cap," and forced -him to sing the songs of the revolution and dance for him. And Louis -dreamed all that change in his appearance, yet he doesn't know who the -subject of the portrait is and very little, if anything, about this -dauphin, in all probability. This is simply uncanny! I must tell Carol -in the morning. - - -April 19. I haven't had a chance to write a thing in this journal for a -week. We have been having the dressmaker. She's getting all our spring -things in order, and I've had to help her and Mother with the sewing -every spare minute that I've had. Father's been laid up, too, with an -acute attack of rheumatism, and was in bed several days. For nearly half -the week I didn't even go to school. So, altogether, I've been having a -rather strenuous time. - -But, all the same, I haven't forgotten our mystery for a single minute. -Carol has kept me posted on anything new that has happened, though -nothing special did happen till yesterday. She has been madly reading -history ever since. She always did have a taste for it, and this has -given her the inspiration to read up French history from the very -beginning. She says she's finding it as interesting as a story. Well, -maybe she is, but I'm sure _I_ wouldn't. - -One thing she said was that the more she read, the more she felt that -the French weren't much to blame for what they did while getting rid of -their kings and queens in that revolution. Of course they might have -used gentler means, but they were probably too exasperated by the way -they'd been downtrodden. From almost the beginning the reigning monarchs -were a _precious lot_, evidently considering it their chief business in -life to squeeze the most they could out of their subjects. Each one felt -he'd lived in vain, apparently, if he hadn't gone his ancestor one -better at that occupation! Carol says that Louis XVI seems to have been -a lot better than most of them, but by that time the French were too -furious to consider that, I suppose. Anyway, he had to suffer for what -his ancestors had done. - -We haven't seen much of Monsieur lately. Louis says he hasn't been -well. This climate doesn't agree with him, and he has rheumatism and -gout, and has caught a dreadful cold. I don't see why he stays here, if -it makes him so miserable. Anyhow, he was in such bad shape that he -decided to go to New York to spend a few days at a sanitarium, and Miss -Yvonne had to take him there, for he was too sick to go alone. He went -yesterday, and last night a queer thing happened. Carol told me about it -this afternoon, giving the account as Louis told it to her while coming -home from school on the trolley. - -It seems that he and his uncle were sitting downstairs in the -living-room when, about nine o'clock, they heard a dreadful crash -upstairs, directly over their heads. They couldn't think what in the -world it could be, and were so startled that neither of them moved or -spoke for a moment. Then Louis jumped up, exclaiming: - -"Something's the matter in Monsieur's room! That's right overhead. I'll -go up and see." - -At first his uncle didn't seem to want him to go, saying he'd rather go -himself. But as he's very feeble and doesn't go upstairs often (his -bedroom is on the lower floor), Louis wouldn't hear of it and insisted -that at least they go together. So up they went. - -When they reached Monsieur's room and struck a light, they saw that the -picture of the boy had fallen to the floor and that the glass was -broken. Evidently, the wire by which it was hung had become rusty and -given way, for the picture is very heavy. Louis didn't think much of the -occurrence. He merely remarked that he'd clean up the broken glass and -get a glazier to come in the morning and put in a new one. Also, he said -he'd get some new wire and rehang it. - -But for some unknown reason old Mr. Meadows was nearly wild. He stood -and wrung his hands, and walked up and down, as if something perfectly -awful had happened. Louis couldn't make out what in the world was the -matter with him. Finally he said: - -"It's all right, Uncle. What are you so excited about? I'm going to -have it all fixed up to-morrow. It will be as good as ever. The picture -itself isn't damaged a bit." - -But even then his uncle couldn't seem to calm down, and all Louis could -get from him was this remark, repeated over and over: - -"'Tis an evil omen! An unfortunate sign! On no account must Monsieur -know of it!" - -Louis said that was all right; he needn't know of it. The picture would -be all fixed up long before Monsieur came back. And even Miss Yvonne -needn't hear of it, for he'd see that it was in place before she came -home to-day. This seemed to calm Mr. Meadows somewhat, and he finally -consented to have it so. But all the evening he kept muttering, "An evil -omen!" to himself, and acted uneasy. Louis says he doesn't see any sense -in it. I can't say that I do either, even with what I know, and yet it -does seem sort of queer. - -I'm too tired to write much more to-night, and yet I must tell about how -the Imp acted when we told her of what we'd unearthed in the histories -about the dauphin. - -We were awfully enthusiastic over telling her, for we felt sure she -would think we'd done a good piece of work. As a matter of fact, Carol -and I doubted very much whether the Imp could possibly have found out as -much as we had, for we'd dug into things so thoroughly. We felt sure we -were giving her some points she hadn't discovered, and we were rather -proud of ourselves. Imagine our disgust when she remarked, after we'd -finished: - -"Well, you've done very nicely, children!" She always calls us -"children" when she wants to be patronizing and unpleasant. I thought it -strange that she should suddenly turn horrid, when she's acted so -friendly of late. - -"Don't be hateful," I said, "but admit that we have given you some good -points." - -"I don't mean to be hateful," she retorted, "but it makes me mad to see -how little you girls use your brains." - -"I don't think that's a nice remark," I said, "but I'll forgive you for -it, if you'll be kind enough to explain what you mean." - -"Why, just this," she answered. "There are one, two,--yes, three points -in things you know about that you haven't connected with this picture or -this history at all, so far as I can see." - -"What are they?" I demanded. - -"You know that I can't tell you," she replied. "I can only advise you to -use your brains and your memories." - -"Anything else?" I inquired, as mildly as I could, for by that time I -was getting furious with her. - -"Yes, one thing more," she said. "You were trying to be patronizing, -weren't you, when you asked me if you hadn't given me some good points. -As if it wasn't _I_ who put you on the right track in the beginning! -I've always said that you two were an ungrateful pair, and now I'm sure -of it. I'll give you just one more piece of information, and then I'm -through. You thought you had discovered more than I have? Why, I've -unearthed so much more that you haven't even touched or suspected that -you'd be perfectly amazed, if you knew what I do!" With that, she -flounced out of the room. - -I can't help but believe the Imp, mad as she has made me. Goodness knows -when she'll come round to being amiable again, for once she goes off on -a tangent like this, she _stays_ off for a good long while. It's too -bad! - -What in the world can those three things be that she was talking about? - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -LOUIS SPRINGS A SURPRISE--AND THE CONSEQUENCES THEREOF - - -May 1, 1914. Nothing special has happened during the last two weeks that -is worth writing about. Carol and I haven't made the least progress in -solving the riddles I last mentioned. The Imp fulfilled all my -expectations, and has been most objectionable ever since that day. Queer -how she turns completely around at times, especially when she feels the -least bit touchy, and acts as if we were her mortal enemies. She has -hardly spoken to us lately. - -Monsieur came home from his sanitarium, and seems a lot improved. The -weather is lovely, anyhow, and he stays outdoors a good deal, so I -suppose that helps, too. Carol and I have had several interesting talks -with him. You can't help seeing a good deal of your neighbors in this -shut-off spot around the Green, when the weather is nice, and even -Monsieur seems to have become used to strolling over and having little -friendly chats with us. He has "thawed out" a lot, and actually seems -quite human _now_. The Imp is still his favorite, of course, but he has -come to realize _our_ existence when she isn't about. - -What I wanted specially to write about to-night was the delightful time -we had to-day. Louis gave us all a treat, and besides providing such a -good time, he also gave us the surprise of our lives. There was to be a -big aviation exhibition over in Bridgeton this afternoon, and yesterday -Louis gave us all invitations to go with him and see it. He said he had -unusually good seats on the flying field. It was something we wouldn't -have missed for anything, and so we all went,--Dave, Carol, and myself, -and even the Imp. Louis said he had invited Monsieur, too, but Monsieur -did not care to go, not feeling as well as usual to-day. - -I've never seen an aeroplane near by before. To tell the truth, the -nearest I ever _did_ see one was probably a thousand feet up in the air, -sailing over our house one time. We had gorgeous seats right in front, -and could see everything plainly. I was so thrilled when the first one -rolled out and soared up majestically that I could have risen and -shouted myself hoarse. Carol had to pull me down once, to keep me from -tumbling right over the railing in my excitement. But that was nothing -to what was to come. We were so absorbed that we didn't notice that -after a while Louis slipped away and disappeared. What was our -astonishment to see him suddenly strolling down the field in a regular -aviator's costume, with a helmet in his hand. He came over to us, -laughing, and said: - -"I know I've given you all a shock, that is, all except Dave. He's been -in the secret. But I might as well up and confess my crimes now. I've -been mad about this aviation business for a year or more, and I have -been studying it secretly for some time. A fellow I know here in -Bridgeton has a machine and is to fly to-day. His name is Page Calvin. -He hasn't gone up yet. I've studied and worked on his machine till I -know it by heart, but I've never been up in it yet. To-day he's going to -take me up, and if I stand it all right,--some people can't, you -know,--why then it's aviation for _me_, in preference to everything -else!" - -Well, we were so thunderstruck that we couldn't say a word for a moment, -and just gasped. At last I managed to stammer: - -"And--and is Dave going in for this, too?" - -"Not I!" said Dave. "I haven't any head for it. I get too dizzy. But I'm -going to help Louis build a model aeroplane when we've finished that -motor-boat. I'm interested in the mechanical part of it." - -"But what about Monsieur?" Carol asked Louis. "Have you told him about -this?" - -"No, I haven't," said Louis. "That's why I wanted him to come to-day, so -that I could surprise him, too. I'm sorry he couldn't--" - -Just then some one came and told Louis that the biplane he was to go up -in was ready, so that he said good-bye and walked away. We watched him -put on his helmet and climb into the machine, and I confess now that I -never expected to see him alive again. It's all right when some one you -_don't_ know is going up; you're just excited and thrilled. But when -it's some one that you _do_, you're simply frozen stiff with fright, and -you're morally certain that he'll come crashing to earth any second! - -Carol and I gripped hands and held our breath, and I believe it was the -longest fifteen minutes I ever knew or expect to know. They sailed -completely out of sight for a while, and then the suspense was worse. -But at last the biplane came back and settled on the field as gracefully -as a bird. Louis was wild with excitement when he returned to us, and he -says it's the most wonderful experience imaginable. The Imp was so -worked up over it that she wanted Louis to persuade his friend to take -her up and "loop the loop"! He laughed, and told her it was not allowed, -but I believe that for a while she really thought she could tease him -into it. - -There was one other exciting thing that happened. Toward the last a -machine went up and something went wrong with the engine when it was -about two hundred and fifty feet in the air. It began to droop over in a -sort of lopsided fashion, and then began to settle, like a bird that has -been wounded in the wing. Before it reached the ground it was almost -upside down, and every one was nearly frantic, thinking the man in it -would fall out. But he didn't, and at last it came to earth with quite a -crash. A lot of people rushed to help the aviator out, Louis among them. -He wasn't killed, but they said he had a badly fractured arm, and we saw -him being fairly carried off the field. It made me actually sick to -think what a horribly dangerous career Louis was letting himself in for. -But it didn't seem to disturb _him_ a bit. All he would say was that a -careful aviator would never let a thing like that happen. - -It was late when we came home, so we invited Louis and Carol over to our -house to tea, and had a jolly evening afterward. - -I've had a gorgeous day and, as Louis said, "the surprise of my life." -But I cannot help wondering how Monsieur is going to take this piece of -news. - - -It was the day after Louis's great surprise, and, since it was Saturday, -he was out in the barn hard at work putting the finishing touches to the -motor-boat that was to be launched on the river during the coming week. -Carol, Sue, and the Imp had also drifted over to admire the -"toot-and-scramble," as the Imp insisted on pronouncing Louis's favorite -French expression, _tout ensemble_. - -"Won't it be jolly to have our first picnic up the river in her?" -remarked the boy, stopping to glance critically at a stroke of varnish -he had just administered. "Do you know, I really began this boat just to -get my hand into that kind of mechanical work, but I believe we're going -to have a lot of fun out of her, too. However, just you wait till I -begin my biplane--" - -At that moment a shadow fell across the doorway, and the figure of -Monsieur entered unexpectedly behind the group. - -"_Bon matin_," he began, as was his custom. Then suddenly and sharply he -added in English to Louis, "What is that you say?" - -"Good-morning," said Louis, politely. "I haven't seen you, sir, since -our expedition yesterday, or I would have told you what I told the girls -at the aviation field. I hope you'll be pleased." - -With a visible effort, for, in reality, he greatly dreaded this -revelation to Monsieur, yet simply and directly he told the old -gentleman what he had said and done on the previous day. - -The result was as unexpected as it was distressing. Not one of the -listeners but was fully prepared to see the excitable French gentleman -rage and storm and attempt to forbid Louis to engage in so dangerous a -pursuit. From all they had heard of him, they could imagine no other -course of action. They were entirely unprepared, however, for the -strange quiet with which he received the news. It was not till Louis -began to tell of yesterday's flight that Monsieur suddenly raised his -hand and cried in a low voice: - -"Stop! A chair, if you please! I--I feel very--ill!" - -Not till then did they notice the strange, gray pallor that had crept -into his face. Louis hurried into the main part of the barn and came -back with a rickety chair. When he had placed it, Monsieur sat down -heavily and, groaning slightly, pressed his hand to his side. - -"Hurry in--to--Mademoiselle Yvonne!" he gasped. "Tell her--bring my -medicine. My heart! It--it has been weak for years!" - -Louis dashed out of the barn to obey his command, and Carol dashed after -him, glad to get away from the sight of physical suffering. But the Imp -and Sue stayed with the old gentleman, the Imp steadying him in his -chair with her strong young arm, for he seemed to be slipping down. Sue -began fanning him frantically with a newspaper. It seemed as if the -other two were gone for an age, and, in fact, they were gone longer than -might have been expected, for Miss Yvonne was not about the house and -had to be hunted up in the big garden. - -Before they came back, however, Monsieur appeared to grow a trifle -easier. But the only word he said during the absence of the others was -just before they came back with Miss Yvonne. - -"It is useless!" they heard him murmur, and the Imp, bending over, asked -him what he had said and if they could do anything. But he acted hardly -aware of her presence, and went on murmuring something in French. Then -the others returned, bringing Miss Yvonne, breathless and excited, but -carrying a bottle and spoon. A few moments after taking the medicine -Monsieur seemed easier, and with the help of all he managed to get back -to the house. - -"It's all right now," Louis told the girls. "He says he will go to bed -and rest, but the worst of the attack is past. Don't you worry." - -The three girls wandered back across the Green, subdued and upset by -what had happened. Even the Imp was apparently forgetful of her past -grievances toward the others. - -"I wonder what he was trying to say?" marvelled Sue, as the three roamed -aimlessly toward Carol's barn. "Did you catch it, Bobs? You were nearest -to him, and I think he spoke in French." - -"Yes, I caught it," said the Imp, turning to them suddenly. "And look -here, girls, I believe I might as well tell you the whole thing now, if -you care to hear. I'm getting tired of the worry of carrying this thing -around by myself!" - -If she had exploded a bomb in their midst, she could not have startled -them more. - -"Gracious! What has made you change so?" demanded Sue, wonderingly. - -"Well, I feel kind of upset by what has happened this morning," admitted -the Imp, "and so I feel like getting this thing off my mind. Do you know -what he was muttering in French, as he sat there? It was this: 'It is -useless to try any longer to keep the secret. I must tell him at once'!" - -"So you see, if he tells Louis," went on the Imp, "there's no reason, -so far as I can see, why I shouldn't tell you _now_. Come up into your -den, and I'll tell you all I know!" - -She began to climb the ladder to the haymow, and the two followed her, -silent with amazement. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WHAT THE IMP KNEW - - -The three filed into the den off the haymow, and Carol solemnly -padlocked the door on the inside. As there were only two chairs, the Imp -perched herself on the old desk, curling her feet up under her. The one -window was wide open, and through it was wafted the scent of lilacs and -the sound of a lawn-mower propelled by Dave somewhere across the Green. -For a moment after they were seated no one spoke. - -"Well?" said Carol, impatiently. "Go on, Imp! Begin _some_where." - -"I was just wondering where to begin," admitted the Imp. "I was trying -to remember what you actually _do_ know, but I guess, except for the -fact as to who that picture is, you don't know a single thing." - -"You once said," Sue reminded her, "that there were three things we -actually knew that we hadn't connected with this affair. We've tried and -tried to think what they were, but somehow we never could seem to strike -them. Perhaps you'd better begin with _them_." - -But the Imp ignored this suggestion. - -"I suppose it _has_ dawned on you that that picture has some connection -with Louis?" she asked. - -"We've thought of it, but it seemed so impossible that we finally gave -up the idea," replied Sue. "What _could_ it possibly have to do with -him?" - -"Everything," answered the Imp briefly. - -"Go on, then!" commanded Sue. "You've kept us on tenter-hooks long -enough. If you're going to tell us at all, do please begin at the -beginning, and don't stop till you're through." - -"The trouble is just this," admitted the Imp. "I don't actually _know_ -anything much at all. It's just guesswork, except for one or two things. -You seem to think Monsieur has told me the whole business. Well, he -hasn't,--not a single thing,--except that I was right about knowing who -that portrait was, and he asked me not to say anything about it, -especially to Louis. Everything else I've worked out for myself, and it -_may_ be all wrong; but somehow I don't think it is." - -The two listeners looked crestfallen. For some time past they had come -to believe that the Imp was wholly and entirely in Monsieur's -confidence. It was a shock to learn the truth. Carol immediately -intimated as much to the assembled company. - -"You're a pack of sillies," exclaimed the Imp scornfully, "to imagine -such a thing, anyway! Why, this thing is of--of immense importance -to--well, I was almost going to say to the whole world. Do you suppose -for one moment that a youngster would be let into such an important -secret?" - -"What are you saying? 'To the whole world'?" cried Carol. "Are you going -crazy, or do you think you are taking us in again with some of your -nonsense?" - -"I'm _not_ talking nonsense, and I'll prove it. Do you know what I -discovered by reading a little more than you did at the library, and -also from an old book that Miss Hastings lent me, because I told her I -was interested in the subject? Well, I found out that, although most -people think it's a settled fact that that poor little dauphin died in -prison, still there are a lot of legends that he really escaped, that he -was helped to escape by some of the Royalists, and that the little boy -who died there wasn't the dauphin at all!" - -The Imp stopped to let this startling news sink into the minds of her -hearers. - -"But--but--" stammered Sue, "if he escaped, what became of him?" - -"That's something that never was known," answered the Imp. "After the -downfall of Napoleon and the restoration of the Bourbons in France, -there were a lot of pretenders who _said_ they were the escaped dauphin -and claimed the throne. But they never could prove it, so no one paid -much attention to them. Only you see there must have been some truth in -it,--his escape, I mean,--or no one would have thought of such a thing." - -"But I don't see, anyway, what all that has to do with this affair," -remarked Carol. - -"Don't you?" replied the Imp coldly. "Then you're more stupid than I -gave you credit for being." - -Carol quite wilted under this rebuke, but Sue, who had been doing some -rapid thinking, cried: - -"Mercy! It can't be possible that--" - -"Wait a minute," interrupted the Imp. "I'm going to answer your question -about those three things, and see what you make of it. Do you remember -what they used to call Louis XVI--the people, I mean? I'm sure you know, -because you mentioned it to me that day you were telling me what you'd -found out." - -"'Louis the Locksmith,'" answered Carol promptly. - -"Right," said the Imp. "Does _that_ make you think of anything?" - -Carol shook her head. - -"Oh, you're hopeless!" groaned the Imp. "Try the next one. When Louis -was sick one time Monsieur stood over him murmuring something about 'the -Temple look.' Does _that_ convey anything to your mind?" - -"It does to mine," interrupted Sue. "Oh, I believe I'm beginning to -understand." - -But Carol still looked hopelessly confused. - -"Well, here's the last," went on the Imp. "Why should Monsieur and all -the others treat Louis in the queer way they do? Why should Louis have -found Monsieur kissing his hand that time?" - -"Oh, please explain _clearly_, Bobs!" moaned Carol. "You mix me up so, -firing questions at me, that I can't think at all. Just say straight out -what it is." - -"All right, I will. I'll say it in words of one syllable, suitable to -your infant mind," laughed the Imp. "It may sound like the craziest idea -that ever was imagined, but I believe Louis to be a descendant of that -little dauphin, and I believe Monsieur knows it and the Meadows people, -too." - -The conjecture was so stupefying in its scope that the three girls sat -for a moment in dumb, confused wonder. - -"I can't believe it," murmured Carol, at length. "Right here on little -Paradise Green, way out of the world, to have such a thing happen? -Impossible!" - -"It's no stranger than lots of other things that have happened in -history," asserted the Imp, "when you come to think it over. And it's so -possible, too." - -"But here, _here_!" cried Sue. "What in the world would Louis be doing -in America? I could believe it more easily if we lived somewhere in -France." - -"I read in one book," replied the Imp to this objection, "that there was -a rumor that after the dauphin escaped he was taken to America. There -was an American Indian, named Eleazar Williams, or something like that, -who claimed to be the dauphin. So you see it's not so impossible, after -all." - -"Now I begin to see," remarked Carol, after a long pause, "what you -meant by some of those three things. If Monsieur thinks Louis is a -descendant of the dauphin, I can understand why they all treat him with -such respect. Why, girls," she cried enthusiastically, "just -think,--Louis--_our Louis_--may have royal blood in his veins! I simply -can't believe it!" - -"That remark about 'the Temple look' meant, I suppose," murmured Sue, -"that Louis looked so awfully when he was sick that it reminded Monsieur -how the dauphin must have appeared after his bad treatment and illness -in the Temple Tower. That never occurred to me. But I can't yet see any -connection with what you said about 'Louis the Locksmith.'" - -"That's easy," answered the Imp. "It was one of the first things I -thought of. Don't you remember how Louis XVI was always tinkering with -things and fixing locks, and how fond he was of mechanical work? The -whole court used to resent it. Well, the Meadows and Monsieur evidently -think that Louis has inherited that trait, and it drives them wild. -Don't you remember what Louis told us Miss Yvonne once said when she -found him fixing the lock on the kitchen-door? 'The ancient blood! It -will ruin everything!' Doesn't that indicate what they think?" - -"True enough," Sue had to admit. "But what foolishness all this is, -girls, when you think of Louis's history and the history of his family! -I was asking Father about Louis's folks not long ago, just out of -curiosity. He said that the Durants had lived in and owned that house -across the Green for many, many years, even longer than our descendants -have lived in our house. It was way back in the eighties when Louis's -father left here and went out West. He was a young man then, about -Father's age. In fact, they'd gone to school together. But this Charles -Durant went away out West to better himself, and rented the old house on -this Green. Father says he never saw him again, because Charles Durant -and the wife he'd married out there were suddenly killed in an accident. -The first Father heard about it was when old Mr. Meadows and his -daughter, whom nobody had ever seen before, came to this place with the -tiny baby who was Louis, and settled here for good. They never said much -about themselves, except that they were old friends of the Durant family -and that they had always lived in France. They explained that they had -come over here to take care of and bring up the last Durant baby, since -its parents had been killed. Now will you tell me how anything about a -dauphin could come in there?" - -"Maybe they didn't bring the baby from out West," suggested Carol, "but -brought him over from France with them. Maybe he isn't a Durant at all." - -"That's possible, too," said the Imp, "but, after all, it doesn't make -any difference where he came from, does it, if Louis is what we think he -is?" - -"But who is this 'Monsieur,' and what has _he_ to do with the whole -thing?" suddenly cried Carol. - -"That," admitted the Imp, "is what I can't figure out. I'm sure he must -be some relative. They say there are descendants of the Bourbons still -living. It wouldn't be strange if he wanted to hunt up a long-lost -relative, but why he should make such a secret of it is beyond me." - -"Bobs," cried Sue, suddenly going off at a tangent, "have you any idea -about those two other pictures in Monsieur's room,--the ones all covered -up? I've stayed awake nights trying to guess who on earth they could be, -and why he keeps them covered." - -"Why, of course I don't _know_," laughed the Imp, "but I can make a good -guess. I believe they're portraits of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. I -can't imagine why he keeps them covered, unless it's to keep Louis or -any one else from guessing anything about this affair. Of course they're -very well-known portraits, and almost any child would know who they were -at first sight. But it's different with the dauphin. Very few people -know that picture by sight. That's the only reason I can think of." - -It seemed such a simple explanation, after they'd heard it, that both -girls felt a little chagrined to think that they'd never had the wit to -work out this easy problem. But so humble were they now, after the Imp's -astounding revelation, that they were willing to admit their inferior -wit twenty times over. - -It was Sue who presently voiced the unspoken thought that was in each -mind. - -"I wonder how Louis will take all this?" she sighed. - -This was a matter that went beyond their conjecture. How, indeed, -_would_ Louis take it? - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -SUSPICIONS - - -May 17, 1914. It may seem a strange thing, but two whole weeks have gone -by since the Imp told us what she did, and nothing has happened at all. -By "nothing" I mean that no astonishing developments of any kind have -occurred. We went out from Carol's barn that day perfectly certain that -everything--about Louis, at least--would be changed and strange and -upheaved. We lived on a tiptoe of expectation for hours and days, but -all has gone on over there just the same as ever. I can't understand it. - -That morning, about eleven o'clock, Louis came over to tell us that -Monsieur was feeling much better, and that we need no longer worry about -him. We all gazed at him curiously,--_so_ curiously, I'm afraid, that he -noticed it. - -"What's the matter?" he asked. "You all act as if you were seeing a -spook. Is there anything wrong about me anywhere?" - -"Oh, no!" I hurried to assure him. "We were wondering how Monsieur was -getting on." - -"Well, he's getting on famously," said Louis, "but I certainly did -manage to upset him. I was afraid he wouldn't take the news well, but I -didn't dream it would be as bad as that. I only supposed he would rant -and tear his hair. I'm horribly sorry, for I'm actually getting a bit -fond of the old gentleman, queer as he is." - -"Did he say anything more to you about it?" asked the Imp. - -I knew she couldn't resist asking that. I was crazy to, myself, but -couldn't pluck up the courage. - -"Not another word," Louis replied. "I expected he'd say a whole -dictionary full. He did start off once with a word or two, but evidently -changed his mind. He hasn't even hinted at it since." - -This seemed a little queer, but we decided (after Louis had gone) that -Monsieur was probably putting off the ordeal till he felt stronger. That -would be entirely likely. So we told each other that by the next day -Louis would probably know the whole strange truth. - -But the next day came and went, and Louis was just the same and nothing -was changed, even at the end of a week. He told us that Monsieur had -never so much as alluded to the subject again, and, for _his_ part, he -was mighty glad that the affair had blown over. He said he was sure -Monsieur would get used to the notion after a while. - -So time has passed, and things remain just as they were. We cannot -imagine what has come over Monsieur,--Carol, the Imp, and myself, I -mean. Why is he waiting? Why doesn't he tell Louis, as he said would -have to? What does all this delay mean? - -But if everything remains outwardly the same, it is not so with the way -we three _feel_ about things. I don't know if I can explain the strange -change that has come over our feelings toward Louis and Monsieur and -all that concerns them,--especially toward Louis. All our lives he has -been just 'Louis Durant,' the nice boy who lived across the Green, who -played with us from the time we were babies and studied with us in the -same classes in school, who was just like our brother, except that he -didn't live in the same house. We have always thought of him in the same -way that we do of Dave. Now, however, everything is different. He -_isn't_ 'Louis Durant' any more. He's some strange, unknown, -long-way-off person, whose ancestors were monarchs of one of the -greatest countries on earth, and who might have been a king himself, if -things had gone a little differently. I simply _can't_ feel near to, and -well-acquainted with, a person like that. Carol says she can't, either, -and the Imp admits that she's felt so a good while longer than we have. - -It seems as if _our_ Louis had been taken away forever and a strange, -unapproachable person had been put in his place. Not that Louis -_himself_ acts any differently. He's exactly the same as ever, of -course, and he's said a dozen times in the course of the last week: - -"What's come over you girls, anyway? You're all the time gazing at me -with eyes as big as dinner-plates, and you act so queerly and are so -absent-minded that I don't know you! Has a realization of the fact that -I hope some day to be a full-fledged aviator had such a doleful effect -on you as all that? You haven't been the same since that day. I wish to -goodness that I'd never told you, if you're going to take it in this -silly way." - -Of course we try to assure him that nothing at all is the matter, but it -doesn't work very well. - -We three have talked a number of times about whether we ought to breathe -a word of what we suspect to Louis, but the Imp says positively, "No." -If he is to know, she says, he must learn it from Monsieur and from no -other. In fact, by rights she ought not to have let us into the secret, -and she wouldn't have done so, except that she thought there would be -no reason why she shouldn't after Monsieur had told Louis. Since he -apparently hasn't told him anything yet, it is our duty to keep the -secret. I guess she must be right. _I_ wouldn't want to be the one to -tell Louis, anyway. - -Our final exams for this year are coming in a week or so, and we are all -"cramming" hard, so I probably won't have a chance to think of much else -for some time to come. - - -June 3, 1914. Everything is just about the same as when I last wrote in -this journal. Nothing is changed, as far as we can see, in affairs -across the Green. We are all so busy working for and taking our -examinations that we haven't had much time to think about it, especially -Carol, who is weak in mathematics, and I, who always dread Latin. Only -the Imp remains unworried by these troubles. Her studies never did cause -her a moment's uneasiness, as far as I can see, though how she gets -through them, when she never makes even a pretense of studying, is -beyond me. - -Monsieur is about again in the usual way, and two or three times Carol -and I have had a few moments' conversation with him, while he was -strolling on the Green. I simply can't describe the uncanny feeling I -have when with him now. If he was a mysterious person before, he's a -million times more so now, and every moment that I'm talking to him I -find myself in a panic, for fear those eagle eyes of his will bore into -my mind and discover the fact that I know his secret. Of course I don't -suppose he realizes for a moment what he said that day he was taken so -ill, and certainly he does not dream that the Imp was keen enough to -unearth what she did. He is polite and courteous and stilted--and very -French--in his manner toward us, and I suppose he no more dreams that we -know what we do than he supposes that the sky will fall on him. - -One thing is beginning to disturb me very much. It's a suspicion that -occurred to the Imp, and that she confided to us a day or two ago. She -rather startled Carol and me by suddenly putting this question to us: - -"What do you figure out that Monsieur's plans are?" - -"How on earth should _we_ know?" said I. - -"Well, you must admit that he probably has some, or he wouldn't be -dangling around here so long," replied the Imp. "Why shouldn't he tell -Louis what he has to tell, and then go away or take Louis away, as the -case may be?" - -"What do _you_ think, Bobs?" asked Carol. "I'll warrant you have worked -it all out." - -"If I tell you what I think, you'll tell _me_ I'm a lunatic," declared -the Imp. "It does sound rather crazy, and yet why shouldn't it be so?" - -"Why shouldn't _what_ be so?" I cried. "You haven't even told us yet." - -"Well, here's my notion," she said. "Suppose--well, just suppose that -somebody wanted to overthrow the present government of France. Wouldn't -this be a lovely chance?" - -We were struck dumb with amazement by this astounding proposition. - -"I guess you _are_ a lunatic!" I said. "But even lunatics ought to have -a chance to explain themselves. Go on." - -"Oh, I know it sounds foolish," returned the Imp, "but, after all, is it -any more foolish than the possibility that our Louis may be a descendant -of a king of France? Just think what that means. Suppose there are a lot -of discontented descendants of royalists in France, who are dissatisfied -with the present form of government. And suppose that they hear there -_is_ a direct descendant of Louis XVI now living. Wouldn't it be a -lovely chance to get up a secret insurrection in his favor and so -restore him to the throne? It wouldn't be the first time that a republic -has been overthrown in that country, if you remember. And if this -Monsieur happens to be a Bourbon relation, he'd be all the more -interested." - -Just then Carol gave a gasp, and cried out: - -"Yes, and do you remember the way that first cablegram commenced? 'Time -almost ripe'! I always did think that was queer." - -"Exactly what I said," continued the Imp. "And what do you suppose -Monsieur is twiddling his thumbs around Paradise Green for? Just -because Louis isn't falling in with his plans as nicely as he'd hoped. -I'll warrant Monsieur has been horribly disappointed from the first, -because Louis was so thoroughly _American_ and didn't take a scrap of -interest in his French affairs. He sees plainly that Louis isn't going -to be easy to handle. And if _Louis_ won't stand for this restoration -business, then 'the fat's in the fire.' _That's_ what's bothering -Monsieur. And he's waiting around to see if he can't win Louis over -unconsciously somehow. At least, that's how I've figured it out." - -We couldn't help but agree with her, and wondered that we'd never -thought of it by ourselves. Besides, the more we thought of it, the more -we remembered dozens of little incidents that seem to confirm it. If we -all weren't so busy pegging away at our exams, and so had more time to -think about this, I feel sure that we could come to some definite -conclusion about it, but as matters stand, I, for one, am too bewildered -to know what to think. - -And Louis goes about as happy as a lark, unconscious of it all! - - -June 29, 1914. Examinations are over at last, and I'm thankful to say -that we all passed, except that Carol has a "condition" in mathematics -that she'll have to make up during the summer. Anyhow, it's over, and we -can breathe more freely and look forward to vacation. - -Last evening after tea the Imp asked Carol and myself to go for a walk -with her, as she had something important she wanted to tell us. We -suspected that she'd thought out something else about Louis, so we went -quite willingly. Otherwise, I'm bound to confess, we'd have been bored -stiff with the prospect of spending our time with her. It was quite -true. She _had_ thought of something new. - -"Girls," she began, "has it occurred to you that if what we suspect -about Monsieur and Louis is true, it's a very serious affair?" - -We said we supposed so, but that we didn't see how we could help it. - -"That's just it," she answered. "We _ought_ to help it, somehow. I told -you once that this was a matter that might affect the world, and you can -easily see now that it is. Ought we to simply sit down and let it slide -gaily along?" - -"But what on earth can _we_ do about it?" I demanded. "Just remember -that we're nothing but three young girls, one not even out of public -school, and that not a soul on earth would believe us if we were to make -such fools of ourselves as to tell what, after all, we only suspect." - -"History has sometimes been in the hands of as young people as -ourselves," she remarked. I'm sure I don't know where the Imp gets all -her information, and yet somehow I'm bound to believe her. _I_ couldn't -think of a single case where history had been in the hands of any one of -our age, but I didn't dare say so, because she would probably have -promptly pointed out half a dozen cases. So I said nothing. - -"I haven't made up my mind what we ought to do," she went on, "but I'm -sure _something_ must be done, and pretty soon, too!" - -"Suppose we begin by telling Father," I suggested. "He has a pretty -level head about most things." - -"Pooh!" she scoffed. "He'd just laugh his head off at us, and tell us to -run away and play and forget all about it. You know Father doesn't take -much stock in anything that isn't agriculture." This was quite true, and -we saw at once that the Imp had the right of it. - -"No, don't speak to any one yet," she added. "We'll keep the secret a -while longer, till I've thought out a better plan." - - -This morning another queer thing happened. As there was no school, we -were all sitting on the veranda discussing the startling news in the -paper, the assassination of the Archduke of Austria, which happened -yesterday. Just then Louis came over to ask us to go out in the launch. - -"What do you think of the news?" he asked. - -We said it was awful, and that we were wondering what would happen next. - -"You ought to have seen Monsieur when he read it," went on Louis, -laughing at the recollection. "He got up, crumpled the paper into a -ball, and stormed about the place as if he were having a fit. I asked -him why he was so excited about it, and he immediately began to reel off -a lot about the 'balance of power' in Europe,--how it would be upset and -what Austria would be likely to do, where Russia would object and how -France might be affected, and a whole lot more that I couldn't begin to -understand. He's a great student of international politics, he says, and -this news seemed to upset him a lot. I'm sure I can't see why." - -The Imp poked me so hard in the ribs that I almost shrieked aloud, but I -saw at once what she must be thinking. _Are_ Monsieur's plans upset by -this, I wonder? Or are we just imagining trouble where there is none? -I'm sure I don't know. But of one thing I'm certain. I never realized -how strange it would feel to go off for a picnic up the river in a -launch run by a boy in a pair of paint bespattered overalls, whose -ancestors sat on the throne of France and who might, in his turn, become -the future ruler of that country. - -Anyhow, I don't like it. I'm not happy, and I wish things were just as -they used to be. So does Carol, but I'm afraid the Imp enjoys all the -excitement. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A SOLEMN CONCLAVE--AND WHAT CAME OF IT - - -It was a hot morning toward the middle of July. About nine o'clock three -girls might have been seen issuing from the Birdseys' gate, two carrying -between them a well-filled lunch-basket. The third,--none other than the -Imp,--bore a couple of shawls and two or three books, also a -thermos-bottle of large proportions. - -"I know you're not awfully keen about this picnic," she was saying to -the others, "but it's only because you're a lazy pair and desperately -afraid of getting a little overheated. It'll be cool and pleasant down -at the old boat-house on the river. We can put on bathing-suits and have -a swim first, and then eat our lunch when we feel like it." - -"But I don't see why you're so anxious for this picnic just to-day," -grumbled Carol. "It's blazing hot getting there, and we could have a -much more comfortable lunch at home and go for our swim this afternoon." - -"Yes, and I was planning to do a lot of work in the house this morning," -added Sue, discouragingly. "I wanted to rearrange my room and make that -new waist for which Mother gave me the material. I hate to have things -so upset." - -"Look here!" exploded the Imp. "Didn't I make all the sandwiches and -pack the lunch-basket and do every blessed thing for this picnic before -you were even out of bed? Do be a little grateful, just for once. I had -a reason, and a precious good one, for wanting to get off by ourselves -to-day. I want to talk over something with you." - -The other two pricked up their ears. - -"What is it?" they demanded, with an increase of interest. - -"Oh, yes," scolded the Imp, "you're anxious enough, now that you think -there's something worth while in it. I've a great mind not to tell -you." - -"Oh, go on, Imp!" soothed Carol. "You can't blame us for being a little -grumpy on this hot morning. Have you found out something new?" - -"I'll tell you after we've had our swim," was all the Imp would -vouchsafe, and with that they were forced to be content. At the end of a -hot walk across the meadows in the blinding sun, they emerged on the -river bank at the cool little boat-house under the willows. Here they -donned bathing-suits and splashed about in the river for an hour. When -they were dressed again they lounged on the wide platform, amply shaded -by one immense willow that overhung the water. They were comfortable and -lazy and cool, and even the two reluctant ones acknowledged themselves -quite happy. - -"Well, let's have lunch," suggested the Imp, "and while we eat I'll tell -you what's been in my mind for several days." - -They spread out the sandwiches and fruit, and during the meal the Imp, -who had not put on her shoes and stockings, sat on the edge of the -platform and dabbled her feet in the water. - -"I guess I don't need to give you three guesses as to what I'm going to -speak of," she remarked, between two mouthfuls of a sandwich. - -"Oh, no; it's Monsieur, of course, and Louis," replied Sue. "Has -anything new come up? _I_ haven't heard of anything. Louis has been away -at Bridgeton a lot, and I imagine he's been with that Page Calvin, -puttering around the old biplane he's always talking about. I've had a -mind to ask Dave, who certainly knows, but of course _he_ wouldn't give -me any definite information. I think Louis is trying to pluck up courage -to begin work on that model, but he knows he'll have another awful fuss -with Monsieur when he does." - -"That isn't what _I_ was going to talk about, anyway," said the Imp. "It -may all be true, but something more important has been on my mind for -several days. It's this: How much longer are we going to let this affair -go on, and do nothing about it?" - -"You've asked that before," remarked Sue, uncomfortably, "and I can't -for the life of me see what we _can_ do." - -"You've made that brilliant remark before," replied the Imp, scornfully, -"and it doesn't help matters one bit. The point is that things have come -to such a state that something _has_ to be done, and done pretty soon. I -had a little talk with Monsieur yesterday, and I'm going to tell you -some of the things he said. He was sitting out on that seat on the Green -about five o'clock in the afternoon, reading his paper. You and Carol -were off down at the village getting the mail, and I didn't have a thing -to do, so I strolled over to talk to him. - -"He began by saying the news was bad, very bad. I was sort of surprised, -because I'd looked at the paper every morning, and there hasn't been a -single exciting thing in it since that archduke what's-his-name was -assassinated some time ago. I thought that fuss had all blown over, but -Monsieur says it hasn't, and that Europe is on the verge of some -tremendous upheaval. He said that that murder was only the match that -would start the conflagration, or something like that. Anyhow, he ended -up with these words: - -"'I tell you, petite mademoiselle, I have seen it coming this long, long -time. Kingdoms will fall; republics will totter; the face of Europe will -be changed. France, France herself, will experience a mighty upheaval! -It is inevitable!'" - -The Imp stopped impressively, and her hearers were evidently thrilled. - -"What does he mean? What _can_ he mean?" she went on, her voice -unconsciously rising higher and higher, "except that he's mixed up in -all this. If Austria and Russia and Germany and England and France are -all going to be in a big fuss, as he suggested, can't you see what a -lovely opportunity it would be for him to put through this scheme about -restoring the Bourbon monarchy? What else can he mean by saying, -'Republics will totter; France herself will experience a mighty -upheaval'? I tell you, girls, it's time this thing was reported to the -authorities. I'm sure our government could prevent it, if it only knew, -and then, too, if we really care anything about Louis, we ought to -protect him, even if he _is_ a royalty,--I'm sure he doesn't _want_ to -be one!--from being caught in all this mix-up." - -"But how can we report it to the authorities?" asked Carol, in a scared -voice. "I wouldn't know the first thing about how to go about it." - -"Then I'll tell you," announced the Imp, dramatically. "I don't believe -that in so important a thing as this we ought to stop short of the very -highest authority there is. I propose that we write to the President -himself. And I propose that we do it this very afternoon. I've thought -it all out. I've even brought along the things to do it with." - -True enough, she produced a fountain-pen and some notepaper. So -impressed were her hearers that Sue could only quaver, in a voice that -shook with nervousness: - -"Well, you go on and write it, Bobs. I'm sure you'll know what to say. -And we'll all sign it, if you wish. Perhaps that will make it look more -important. But somehow I feel as if we ought to tell Father first." - -"Then you'll spoil everything," declared the Imp. "He wouldn't believe -it, to begin with, and by the time he was convinced it would probably be -too late. No, this must go off to-night. How ought I to address the -President of the United States,--'Dear Sir' or 'Your Honor' or what?" - -"If mademoiselle will delay this proceeding for a moment," said a -strange voice with startling unexpectedness, almost at her elbow, "it -may not be necessary to write the note." - -The Imp turned about so abruptly that she dropped her fountain-pen into -the river. The two others, fairly turned to stone in their astonishment -and fright, sat motionless. - -It was Monsieur himself. He had emerged from the bushes close to the -water's edge, and now stood beside the platform of the boat-house. As no -one of the three sufficiently recovered their wits to address him, he -went on: - -"I owe you a thousand apologies for this intrusion and for being an -unwilling eavesdropper. I came to a spot among the trees a short -distance away early this morning, before the sun was hot. I have often -been there before. The nook is a favorite one of mine. I bring my book -and Mademoiselle Yvonne contrives me a little lunch, so that I do not -have to go back in the heat of the day. I must have fallen asleep before -you arrived, for I was not aware of your proximity till I awoke. Then -you were eating your luncheon and conversing. I was about to make my -presence known to you, when I caught the drift of your conversation and -astonishment forced me to listen. Mesdemoiselles, I know not how you -have arrived at this conclusion, but I take it that you think me a -conspirator, a--a plotter against the government of one of the world's -greatest nations. You think it is your duty to report me to the -authorities of your country. Is it not so?" - -It seemed as if the three found it impossible to break their abashed -silence. At length the Imp plucked up sufficient courage. - -"Yes, I guess that's about it," she admitted, nervously. - -"Would you be so good as to inform me on what grounds?" he inquired, -with the courtesy that never failed him. - -The Imp glanced at her companions and back again to Monsieur. They were -plainly caught in a trap. Should she tell what she knew, or refuse point -blank? For an appreciable moment she hesitated. It was evident that if -they put Monsieur in possession of the facts, they also would put -themselves quite completely in his power. That would, on the face of it, -be a foolish proceeding. Yet how could they do less? There was something -about the old French gentleman's perfect courtesy and frankness that -disarmed even the suspicions of the Imp. While she hesitated, however, -Sue, to her own and every one else's astonishment, took up the cudgels -in his behalf. - -"I think it is only fair to tell Monsieur what we have been thinking," -she said in a trembling voice. "He may be able to show us that we are in -the wrong." - -Monsieur turned to her with a grave bow. - -"I am sure there is some misunderstanding," he declared. "I have heard -only enough to cause me to suspect that my actions and motives here may -have been misjudged." Then he turned once more to the Imp. - -"P'tite Mademoiselle Helene, you and I have always, so I thought, been -the best of friends. May I not understand from you the cause of this -serious suspicion of me?" - -Then and there the Imp, her feet still unconsciously dabbling in the -river, told Monsieur in halting fashion the whole history of their -discoveries about the portrait and their consequent conjectures. He -listened to it all, an inscrutable expression in his eyes, till she had -finished. When the recital was over he stood quite still for several -moments, while the others waited breathlessly. - -"You are marvelous children--you Americans," he said at last, -"especially petite Helene here! Who would have dreamed that you could -piece together this story so accurately, with so little ground to work -on? Yes, so accurately, as far as its foundation goes, for there you are -right, astonishingly right. But, my good little friends, your premises -may be right, but your conclusions are most deplorably wrong." - -"Do you mean that we guessed right about the portrait and Louis, but -were wrong about what _you_ intend to do?" demanded the Imp, scrambling -to her feet and approaching Monsieur excitedly. - -"I will permit you to judge of that after you have heard my story," -replied Monsieur. "For I will now put you in possession of the whole -truth, since you have discovered so much. Allow me, if you please, to -sit down, while I render this accounting of myself." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MONSIEUR'S STORY - - -He stepped up to the platform and took a seat on one end of an old bench -that flanked one side of it. On the other end sat Carol and Sue. The -Imp, unable in her excitement to remain seated anywhere, stood near him, -her great, blue eyes wide with wonder. A catbird sang at intervals in -the willow above them, and the incessant _lap-lap_ of the river ran like -a musical accompaniment in their ears. Not one of the three girls was -ever to forget this strange moment in their lives, not even its -beautiful setting. - -"It is hard for me to know just where to begin," Monsieur at length -broke the silence by saying. "But, as I have said, _mes enfants_, you -three have worked out for yourselves a difficult problem, so perhaps it -is best that I commence by telling you where you were right, and end by -pointing out where you erred. I hasten to begin. - -"It may have been a foolish whim of mine that I bring with me to this -country the three portraits that are so dear to me, and especially -foolish to leave the one unveiled. I had, however, my reason for that, -but I did not contemplate that the public was to be admitted to my room, -as it had to be during our--during Louis' serious accident. All this, -however, is beside the point. I will begin by telling you that I am not, -as you have so shrewdly suspected, this 'Monsieur de Vaubert' that I -call myself here. Truly, 'de Vaubert' is a part of my name, but it is -not all. In France I am known as the Marquis Philippe de Vaubert de -Fenouil. It is a title that is ancient and honorable. It goes back to -the time of Louis XIII--yes, and even before that. When our Louis -discovered the 'F' on my handkerchief, he was entirely right in his -surmises, and I was not very astute to leave it lying about. -_N'est-ce-pas?_" - -He smiled deprecatingly at his three listeners, with a smile so -genuine, so utterly friendly, that they found their dark suspicions -melting away, even before his tale was well begun. - -"To go back to the portrait, however. Yes, it is a very beautiful copy -of Madame Lebrun's original. It was executed many years ago by an -exceedingly clever copyist, and I doubt if many would know it from the -original. It is my dearest possession. I will tell you why. - -"My little friend, petite Helene here, by her wonderful ingenuity and -perception has deduced the conjecture that the ill-used dauphin, who -should have been Louis XVII, did not die in the Temple Tower, as history -has recorded it. There have, indeed, been many legends to that effect. -But the truest one, the truth, was never known to the world. There are -remaining to-day but two families who are in possession of the -facts,--my own and that of our friends the Meadows, whose real name, as -you perhaps know, is Mettot. All the rest of that wonderful brotherhood -which helped to rescue him are dead and gone, and the secret is dead -with them. - -"In order that you may fully understand, I will now give you a short -account of the real story of the dauphin's rescue. As you know through -your researches, after Simon the Cobbler was released from the care of -the young king, the dauphin was placed in a small room and completely -isolated from the world by bolts and bars. Not even his jailers saw him, -only hearing him speak through an aperture in the door. It was the most -inhuman treatment of a child that the world has known, and it is a -thousand wonders that the boy survived. But he did. At the end of an -awful six months, when Robespierre himself was sent to the guillotine -and Barras came into power, the boy was removed from this horrible -incarceration and brought to a large, clean room, where he was taken -care of by two or three guardians chosen for their humanity and -kindliness. - -"It was at this period that a plot was formed by a league of -warmhearted, loyal men,--not only royalists, but republicans, too,--to -rescue the dauphin from his long imprisonment and send him somewhere, -possibly out of the country, to live out the rest of his life in peace. -This league was known as 'The Brotherhood of Liberation,' and the world -to-day would stand amazed, did it know the members, the many _famous_ -members, who composed it. It has even been whispered that Barras himself -and the great Napoleon Bonaparte--then young, poor, and comparatively -unknown--were concerned in this plot. All that, however, is as it may -be. - -"But the main thing is this. The brotherhood was accustomed to meet -secretly at the house of my grandfather, another Marquis de Fenouil, in -Paris, for he was one of the chief leaders and originators of the -scheme. Among them was a young fellow scarcely more than five years -older than the dauphin, one Jean Mettot, who was deeply and devotedly -interested in the plan. It seems that he and his little foster-sister, -Yvonne Clouet, had once become acquainted with the dauphin as he played -in happier years in his garden of the Tuileries. Through his -intervention, the queen, Marie Antoinette herself, had given the young -fellow's foster-mother quite a large sum to defray the overdue taxes on -her home and thus enable her to keep it for her children. So grateful -was this poor washerwoman, Mere Clouet, and her little daughter Yvonne -and her foster-son, Jean Mettot, whom she had adopted from the foundling -hospital, that they had vowed to help the poor, ill-used dauphin, even -to the extent of risking their lives for him. - -"It was Jean Mettot who played one of the most important roles in the -plan to smuggle the dauphin out of the Temple Tower. He was employed in -that citadel as cook's assistant, and thus was able to give aid right on -the spot, as it were. One of the dauphin's three guardians, Gomin, had -also become a member of the brotherhood, else the plan could never have -been carried out. - -"On a given day a sick child who greatly resembled the dauphin was -smuggled into the Tower in a basket of clean linen brought by Mere -Clouet, laundress for the Temple. This child was so ill that there was -no possibility of his recovery. He was speedily substituted for the -dauphin, who was carried up to the great unused attic of the Temple. -There he was kept for several weeks, unknown to the world and tended -only by Jean Mettot. When the sick child at length passed away, the -authorities proclaimed that the dauphin was dead and that there was no -further need to guard the Tower. It was then that the _real_ dauphin was -smuggled out of the Temple in a basket of soiled linen and taken to the -home of the Clouets, where he remained for several days. He was finally -removed by some of the members of the brotherhood in high authority, and -was sent to a distant and obscure corner of France to be cared for and -brought up, under an assumed name, by humble people. The brotherhood was -then disbanded, being first sworn to secrecy by an inviolable oath never -to reveal what had been done. - -"The boy, Jean Mettot, later became a soldier in Napoleon's army and -rose to the rank of officer. He finally married little Yvonne Clouet, -and, as you have doubtless surmised, this John Meadows whom you know is -his descendant,--his grandson, in short. The original Jean Mettot, -however, and my grandfather, the marquis, kept closely in touch with -each other for a time, drawn together by their mutual love and loyalty -to the little dauphin. It was Jean Mettot alone who, several years after -the escape of the dauphin, was summoned by that young man to Havre, in -order that the dauphin might bid farewell to his rescuer. The dauphin -was sailing for America, never to return. He intended, he said, to live -there incognito, in some obscure capacity, as he had no desire ever to -return to France and certainly never wished to rule over that nation. - -"Jean Mettot later attempted to communicate the news of the dauphin's -departure to my grandfather, but found that he had suddenly passed away -and that his son had assumed the title. As Mettot was not certain -whether the secret had been handed down to the son, he did not reveal -his news. Many years later, when he was a middle-aged man, the notion -took hold of him to go to America and see if he could discover any trace -of the dauphin. He had nothing whatever to assist him, except the -assumed name of the dauphin, 'Louis Charles Durant,' and the fact that -the ship on which he had sailed had been bound for a New England port. I -think it was Boston. With only these two points to aid him, he sailed -for America to engage in his almost hopeless task. - -"In all the years he had heard not so much as one syllable from the -exile, but even this did not discourage him. He began his search in New -England, shrewdly suspecting that 'Louis Durant' might not have traveled -very far from his first landing-place. Many weeks and months of -absolutely useless and fruitless effort followed. No one in any of the -large cities, or even in the smaller towns, seemed to have heard of -'Louis Charles Durant' or of any one corresponding to his description. -It was by sheer accident--when Jean Mettot's horse (he made it a -practice to travel about on horseback) went lame one stormy night right -by your Paradise Green--that he was forced to ask for a night's shelter -in one of the only two houses on the Green at that time. It was on the -door of the Durant house that he knocked, and none other than the -dauphin himself opened it!" - -At this point in the narrative Sue and Carol breathed a long sigh of -intense interest, and the Imp came closer and rested her hand on -Monsieur's knee. - -"Yes, it is marvelous, is it not?" he went on. "There is a proverb which -says, 'Truth is stranger than fiction,' and I have always found it so. I -leave you to imagine the meeting between those two, for they quickly -recognized each other. After a time Mettot heard the whole story from -the dauphin. It ran like this: - -"He had come to America, landing in New England and wandering about for -a time, almost penniless and earning his way as he went by doing odds -and ends of labor for the farmers. Singularly enough, he enjoyed it. -Does it seem strange to you, _mes enfants_, that a king should enjoy -himself in this fashion? Ah, but he no longer wished to be a king! Not -for all the riches of the earth would he have gone back to his country -and assumed his rightful title. His terrible childhood years in prison -had given him a longing only for freedom and independence of thought and -action and a desire for the most absolute simplicity of life. - -"To Jean Mettot he confided how at length he had drifted out to this -present farmstead, had apprenticed himself to the good farmer who owned -it, and how for several years he had served him faithfully and well for -a sum that was a mere pittance, but on which he could live happily. Two -years later the farmer's daughter, who had married some time before, -came home to her father's house a widow. After a time she and the -dauphin became mutually attracted to each other and married. Six months -after their marriage the farmer died, leaving his farm to his daughter -and her husband, the unknown dauphin. At the time of Jean Mettot's visit -they had a fine little son, then ten or twelve years old, and were as -happy and contented as could well be imagined. - -"Mettot made them quite an extended visit, but never did the dauphin -reveal to his wife that he had ever known Mettot before, or give the -least hint of his own identity. He said that he preferred these things -to remain secrets forever, buried in the past. He told Mettot that he -desired his descendants to remain in complete ignorance of his past and -of their own origin. Should a crisis ever arise (now unforeseen by him), -when it would be wise for any of his descendants to know their -forefather's history, he had prepared for such an emergency a document -which he had securely hidden away. He acquainted Jean with its -hiding-place and gave him permission to transmit the secret to his own -descendants. On no account, however, was it to be communicated to the -dauphin's descendants, unless the aforementioned crisis should arise. - -"Jean Mettot went back to France, and never again saw the son of Louis -XVI. But he continued to keep in touch with 'Louis Charles Durant' of -America, and to his own son he communicated the strange secret. And his -son, in turn, communicated it to a son of his own, the present Jean -Meadows whom you know. The dauphin died when he was scarcely more than -middle-aged, for his constitution was never robust after the cruel -hardships of his childhood. The son whom he left lived to a ripe old age -on the same farm, and left an heir in his place to continue the line. -This child, the father of our own Louis, becoming discontented, as he -reached manhood, with the life on a simple New England farm, leased the -property, as you probably know, and went out West to make his fortune. -He married a young western girl on the Canadian frontier, and both were -mortally injured in a terrible accident on one of the Great Lakes' -steamers. He had time, however, before he died, to send word to France, -to this present Jean Mettot, leaving their baby son in his care. The two -families had always kept in touch, though none of the present generation -had seen each other. - -"I am sure you must be wondering during all this recital where _I_ come -into the story. It is about time for me to make my entrance. That is -what I am about to disclose. Mettot and his daughter Yvonne, on hearing -the sad news, forsook all and came to America to take possession of the -baby, which was still being cared for at the hospital where its parents -had died. The Mettot family had not prospered with the years, the -present Jean's father having unfortunately lost the modest fortune that -the original Jean had amassed. They were living in a humble way in a -small French village, and had practically sacrificed everything to come -over to America on what they considered an almost sacred charge. - -"What, then, was to be done? Jean Mettot cast about in his mind for some -time, considering the matter, but at length came to the conclusion that -the crisis, spoken of by the original dauphin, had now arrived and that -the time was come to disclose the secret to some one. But to whom? That -was the great question. Suddenly he bethought himself of me, the present -Marquis de Fenouil. He had not the slightest idea whether the secret of -the dauphin's escape had been transmitted in our family, but, taking the -risk, he wrote me a full account of the whole proceeding, throwing the -present little orphan, so to speak, on my mercy. - -"And now at last I enter. I cannot, indeed, give you the slightest idea -what this wonderful news meant to me. The secret _had_ been -transmitted,--aye, it had become a sacred tradition in our family! Many -long and fruitless searches had we made,--I, my father, and my -grandfather before us,--to trace, if possible, the fate of that lost -dauphin. Not one of us but would have sacrificed his all to have made -sure of the after-history of our adored little monarch. The portrait -that you have seen, and those of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, which I -have always kept veiled, have been our most cherished family -possessions, especially that of the dauphin. We worshipped the memory of -that heroic little uncrowned monarch. - -"Can you then understand what it meant to me to find myself at last on -the track of a true descendant of the dauphin? For a time I could -scarcely credit it. But I knew from my grandfather the part played by -the original Jean Mettot, and I could see no reason to doubt that this -tale of his descendant was genuine. My first impulse was to send for -them at once, and to bring the child up as my own son, till he should be -of suitable age to disclose the secret to him. But there were a number -of strong objections to that course. I need not mention them all. One is -sufficient. For the past twenty years I have not been strong. My health -is only sustained by constant treatment from physicians, and I spend -three quarters of my time at sanitariums and health resorts. I am -seldom, if ever, in residence at my French estate. There were a number -of other legal reasons why it was not wise for me to appear to adopt a -child, presumably as my heir, which you would scarcely understand, so I -will not recount them. Suffice it to say that I decided on a course -which may seem strange to you, but which appealed to me as wisest at the -time. - -"The child was a mere baby, not yet a year old. I concluded that for the -present it would be best to leave him in America, the land that his -kingly ancestor had chosen to adopt. In Jean Mettot's name I leased the -same Durant farmhouse that belonged to his father and that one day would -be his own, sent the Mettots there with their infant charge, and -instructed them to bring up the boy in ignorance of his real ancestry, -until such time as I should deem it best to come over to America and -take charge of his affairs. They have worthily fulfilled that charge, -having kept me constantly informed of his growth and progress. - -"In truth, I never supposed the interval would be so long before I -should find it possible to come here. One matter after another,--my -health chiefly,--has delayed me from year to year, though I have planned -the trip more times than I care to count. During this past year, -however, the news sent by our friends the Mettots proved somewhat -disturbing to me. In order to explain this, I must now disclose to you -my plans for 'Louis Charles Durant.' They are, as you will see, far from -any schemes to restore the Bourbon monarchy in France. That would be in -direct opposition to the wishes of the dead dauphin. No, I wished him -to learn of his wonderful ancestry secretly, and only as something to be -proud of. I wished him to grow up as my own son, and, when the time was -ripe, I would legally adopt him. At first there were several obstacles -in the way, but these have lately been removed. In my own heart, -however, he would never be my son, but the _king_ who should rightfully -have ruled over me. I wished him to study statecraft and become a great -political light--a French statesman--and perhaps some day make a great -name in the world. He should be a king of men in deed and act, if he -could not be in name and right. These were my ambitions for him. I felt -that he _must_ fall in with them." - -The three listeners stirred uneasily, and the catbird in the tree above -them uttered its odd, mournful cry. Monsieur paused a few seconds to -gaze out over the blue heat-haze on the river. Then he went on: - -"It was, therefore, disturbing tidings that I began to receive from Jean -Mettot. At first his reports had been satisfactory in every respect. -The boy was upright, manly, and entirely lovable in nature. Up to his -tenth or twelfth year he had developed no traits that would seem in -opposition to my plans for him. But of late my news of him had been very -unwelcome to me. To begin with, he openly avowed that he cared nothing -for France or French history and traditions. He was American to the -core, and he actually boasted of it. This was not surprising, however, -considering the fact that he had been born and brought up in this land. -I promised myself that this difficulty would be easily overcome later. -But there was something that troubled me more. - -"The Mettots began to report that the boy was developing a strongly -_mechanical_ turn of mind, that he was constantly working with tools and -contriving unique devices of his own for various mechanical -purposes,--in short, that he was following directly in the footsteps of -the unfortunate Louis XVI. It has always been my contention that if that -monarch had devoted himself more to the affairs of his kingdom and less -to puttering about with tools and locks, he never would have lost his -throne. It was an ominous sign to me. But even then I hoped that it -might prove merely a childish whim and fade away into other interests as -the years progressed. It did not, as you very well know. I now feel it -to be a family inheritance, impossible to overcome. I have resigned -myself to it, only praying that in time other matters more important may -overgrow and stifle the tendency. - -"But I also realized that the day could no longer be delayed when I must -make the trip across the ocean and see with my own eyes the -great-grandson of our long-lost dauphin. Perhaps you think it strange -that I did not send for him to be brought to me. But I had my reasons -for that, also. I wished to see the boy in his natural environment. I -wished him to know nothing of me. I wished to study him and learn his -character, watch him at his work and play, observe him with his friends, -and discover for myself his ambitions and tendencies. How could I know -that I would really care for him _personally_, or he for me, unless I -followed this course? I loved him already for his _ancestry_, but I -wished to love him, if possible, for _himself_. And as I am an old, -childless, lonely man, I wished him to love me for _myself_. Only by -coming here incognito, I deemed, could this be accomplished. - -"Well, _mes enfants_, I came. The history of my stay here you are fairly -well acquainted with. At first, I confess, I was bitterly disappointed. -The boy was a fine, upstanding, splendid specimen of American boyhood, -but he was thoroughly _American_. He resembled in no way that I could -see, facially at least, the portrait that I had brought with me. That, -of course, was entirely natural; yet I was disappointed. At times I -thought I could discern a fleeting resemblance, but it was always -fleeting. Only at the time when he was so ill did I seem to see in him a -resemblance to the little dauphin after he had been some time in -prison." - -At this point the three girls glanced at each other, and, noticing the -exchanged look, Monsieur went on: - -"Yes, that is what I meant by the 'Temple look,' which remark you say -Louis overheard. But to proceed. The worst disappointment, however, was -that terrible mechanical trait, a trait I found it impossible to -overcome and to which I have now resigned myself. We had our quarrels -and disputes over that subject, as you know, but at last I felt myself -unable to cope with so strong a passion. I pass on to other things. - -"I need scarcely tell you that during these passing months I have come -to care deeply and tenderly for this boy. He may be different, entirely -different from my ideal of him, but I have come to recognize his fine, -genuine manliness, the entire lovableness of his character. His attitude -toward me has never deviated from the courteous and thoughtful and -attentive, except in the one instance of his boat, and I myself was at -fault there! I feel that he is even developing a sort of fondness for me -with the passing of time. When you realize that he knows nothing -whatever of my real identity or my object in coming here (I think he -rather suspects both at times), this is all the more admirable. As for -my feeling for him, I _adore_ him, mesdemoiselles,--I can say no more. -He is the worthy descendant of a king, even though he be not _French_ in -anything but ancestry. - -"You can easily see, then, what it meant to me when he made that -astonishing announcement a few weeks ago. Could anything be more -unutterably terrible for me to hear than that this most dangerous of all -careers should be the chosen one of my adopted son-to-be? It is -incredible to me, even yet. I am praying daily that the whim shall pass -from him. In the first shock of it I thought that the time had come for -me to disclose the truth to him, whether I was ready to do so or not. -Yet on second thought I again hesitated. There is one link in the chain -that is still missing. It is for that I am waiting, for I do not wish -him to be made acquainted with the secret till I can lay the complete -evidence before him. - -"You remember, perhaps, that I spoke of a document, prepared by the -dauphin and hidden by him in some spot, the secret of which he -disclosed only to the original Jean Mettot. It was his wish that the -document be found and delivered to his descendants, should a crisis ever -arise when it would be deemed necessary to disclose the secret to them. -That document, I am sorry to say, we have as yet been unable to -discover. The original Mettot wrote the directions for finding the -hiding-place in a sealed letter and left it with his son, who, in turn, -left it in care of our John Meadows. Unfortunately, when this John -Meadows and his daughter came to America they failed to bring the letter -with them, because they supposed that they would return at once to -France. More unfortunately still, since they have been here their little -home was burned to the ground, and the letter, of course, disappeared in -the conflagration. Meadows himself never read the letter, and he has -only a vague remembrance that his grandfather once said in his hearing, -when he was only a small child, that he believed the hiding-place to be -somewhere near a chimney. That is absolutely the only clue we have had -to work on. - -"I need not tell you that the search for that document has been -unceasing since I first arrived, and even before that. Every nook and -cranny, from attic to cellar, has been ransacked without the slightest -result. Unless the house itself is torn down, I see no possible hope of -finding it. However, I do not yet utterly despair; and when the document -does come to light, I will make the great disclosure to Louis and -formulate my future plans. Circumstances _may_ be such, however, that I -shall have to put him in possession of the secret before the document is -found. I should be sorry for that, as I wish him to feel that our -evidence concerning this strange story is complete. - -"And now, my friends, you know it all. I have hidden nothing from you. I -have shown you my inmost heart. I have only one request--that you still -keep this thing a secret from every one, especially from Louis." - -He stopped, and there was silence. The catbird above them had flown -away. The river was unruffled by the slightest breath. The water had -ceased its _lap-lap_. The afternoon stillness was complete. Carol and -Sue sat motionless in their corner, their hands clasped, their eyes wide -and intent. - -Suddenly the Imp flung herself to the ground and buried her face on the -old French gentleman's knees, a passion of choking sobs shaking her -little body. He laid his hand on her head and murmured in a startled -voice: - -"Little one, little one! What is it that troubles you?" - -"O Monsieur, Monsieur!" she gasped. "What a little _beast_ I've been! -Can you ever forgive me? _How_ I have misjudged you!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -AUGUST FOURTH, 1914 - - -July 27, 1914. It is ten days since that strange afternoon down at the -old boat-house on the river. I have been living in a kind of dream ever -since. I cannot somehow believe that I'm just plain, ordinary Susan -Birdsey, living on out-of-the-way little Paradise Green, to whom nothing -unusual ever has or ever will happen. Paradise Green is no longer the -prosaic place it was. It is the secret spot chosen by history as the -home of one of her most romantic characters. Who would ever have thought -it? And I, Susan Birdsey, am one of the three humble persons Fate has -chosen to be the sharer of this marvelous secret. - -I cannot help thinking of what Miss Cullingford said when she suggested -that we keep a journal,--that some journals had been interesting and -valuable additions to history. That, at least, is what I never supposed -mine could possibly be. And yet, if she could only see it _now_! But she -never will, of course, nor any one else, for I have promised Monsieur -that I will never, without his permission, reveal a single word of what -he has told us. This is not, he says, because it would harm any one, or -make the slightest change in the world's affairs, but because of the -poor "lost dauphin's" wish. - -We three have talked of it incessantly,--Carol, the Imp, and I. Somehow -the wonder of it never grows any less. That such a thing _could_ happen -here, here on little Paradise Green! And yet the Imp says it is no new -thing in history for an exiled king to hide himself away in a strange -country amid the humblest surroundings. Where _does_ she get all these -historical facts, anyway? Even Carol, who is fond of history and reads a -lot of it, doesn't know half as much about things as the Imp does. I am -changing my opinion of the Imp very much lately. I used to think she was -such a scatter-brained, harum-scarum child, without a serious thought -in her head. But I guess we really didn't _know_ her then, and misjudged -her a lot. - -But it's Louis, our Louis, who seems to us the strangest, the most -impossible thing to believe. Before we heard Monsieur's story we -imagined this about him, but half the time we told ourselves it wasn't, -it _couldn't_ be true. We _must_ be on the wrong track, we said. Now we -know that it is all true, and Louis can never be "our Louis," the friend -we've always known, any more. How could he be? To begin with, he's going -to be the adopted son of the Marquis de Fenouil (I _hope_ that's the way -to spell it!), a great nobleman of France, and go away to France and -inherit a title, and probably we'll never see him again as long as we -live. In addition, as if that weren't enough, he's not the plain -American boy we always thought him, but the great-great-grandson of a -king of France. And _we_ know this, even if the rest of the world does -not, and can never, never feel on the same footing with him again. Not -that that will make any difference, I suppose, if he's to go away from -here for good. But it's like losing your brother,--like losing Dave, for -instance,--only Dave never has been, especially of late years, as -friendly and near to us as Louis has been. - -We have seen almost nothing of Louis since that day with Monsieur. He -has been to Bridgeton every day, spending the time, I'm perfectly -certain, with that Page Calvin and his miserable aeroplane. It makes me -perfectly sick to think of it, especially since Monsieur has told us -everything. By the way, I can't get out of the habit of calling him -"Monsieur," but it's just as well, I suppose, because we're not supposed -to know he's anything else. Of course Louis doesn't realize what all -this means to the old gentleman, but if he only knew that it was fairly -breaking his heart, I do believe he'd be willing to give up the -dangerous scheme and take to something else. I feel sure Monsieur -suspects why he's away at Bridgeton, but he never says a word to -us,--just suffers in silence. - -The Imp sees Monsieur and talks to him very often as he sits on his -favorite bench on the Green. He sits there a great deal, on that bench -under the big elm, and reads his paper and watches us play tennis. -Sometimes we all go over and talk to him, but he never says a word about -what he told us that day on the river,--not, at least, when we're all -together with him. He does speak of it sometimes to the Imp when they're -alone. She says that to-day he told her that the situation in Europe is -very grave. He is certain that Austria is about to declare war on -Serbia, and that if she does, the whole of Europe will be involved. -There will be the most awful conflict the world has ever known, if this -happens. - -The Imp asked him if France was likely to go into it, too, and he said -he did not see how this could be avoided; France would always do what -was right. But here's the worst. He says that if France declares war, he -will have to return immediately, since important political matters will -demand it, and he intends to tell Louis the whole truth and take him -back with him. That piece of news seems perfectly ghastly to us, and -yet I honestly don't see how Monsieur can do anything else. - -I felt to-day, after hearing this from the Imp, that I simply must -understand this European situation for myself, so I got the daily paper -and read up everything I could find about it. But I have to confess that -I was not much wiser after I had read it than I was before. So I went to -the Imp and asked her if she could explain the thing. She said: - -"Why, it's this way. Monsieur has told me all about it. Austria -considers that she's got to make Serbia get down on her knees and beg -pardon, because an Austrian archduke was killed there. So Austria's sent -Serbia a note proposing all sorts of concessions that Serbia will never -stand for in the world. The Serbians answered that note yesterday, and -were willing to make whatever reparation they could about the archduke, -but they won't hear of some of the other things. Austria wants the -'whole hog,' or nothing, so of course she'll take this opportunity to -declare war. Russia has always sort of sympathized with the Serbians, -so if they get into trouble, she's going to give them a hand. And -Monsieur says she's already mobilizing her troops. Germany is in a -compact always to help Austria out, so that's where _she_ comes in. -Monsieur says Germany's been waiting forty years for this opportunity to -get gay and let loose on Europe, so she isn't going to let such a lovely -chance as this pass." (These are the Imp's words, not Monsieur's, I feel -certain!) "And France has a compact to be an ally of Russia, and -England's in that, too, so you can easily see what a beautiful -parrot-and-monkey time it's going to be!" - -The situation is a little clearer to me now, I'll admit, but the whole -thing makes me terribly depressed. I'm glad I don't see much of Louis -now. I simply cannot be with him and act naturally, as if nothing were -out of the ordinary. I cannot face him and think who he really is, and -keep the wonder and pain and bewilderment of it out of my expression. So -perhaps it's a good thing he's away so much. - - -August 1, 1914. Austria declared war on Serbia a few days ago. The Imp, -in a terrible state of excitement, rushed up to my room with the paper -that morning to announce the news. But we've had worse since, and it's -all turning out as Monsieur said it would. We--that is, the Imp, Carol, -and I--were all going into Bridgeton to the circus to-day, but we've -given it up. None of us seemed to have the heart for that kind of a lark -in the face of what is going on and what it means for Louis. He still -unsuspectingly goes off to see Page Calvin every day, and never gives -the European situation a thought, I'm certain. Of course he can't for a -moment imagine that it will have any bearing on _his_ affairs. - -The Imp told us to-day that Miss Yvonne is not a bit well. She's had a -nervous breakdown of some kind. Monsieur thinks it's because of this -awful state of affairs in Europe, and also because they can't seem to -find the least trace of those papers. That has been preying on her mind -for a long time. She thinks it's her fault and her father's that they -didn't bring that letter with them from France. It really wasn't, -because they came away in such a hurry, without knowing much about the -actual circumstances. Nevertheless, she is continually worrying about -it. - -We told Mother she was ill, and Mother and the Imp went over to see her -yesterday. They took her some grape conserve and some raised biscuits -we'd just baked, and they said she seemed awfully grateful for the -attention. The Imp said she seemed more _human_ than she ever had -before, and more communicative, too,--not about any of their secret -affairs, of course, but on general topics. She says her eyes bother her -a lot, so the Imp offered to come over every day and read the paper to -her, and she actually said she'd like it. - -Louis's birthday comes in a few days--on August fourth--and we're -planning a little surprise-party for him. We're going over there early -in the morning,--Dave, Carol, the Imp, and I,--and just casually ask him -to walk across the fields to the old boat-house with us. When we get -there we're going to suggest to him that he take us out in the launch -for a while. And when we get back we're going to produce a big spread -that we'll have previously hidden in the boat-house, and have a regular -feast on the platform. In the middle of it all we're going to present -Louis with a gold watch-fob that we all chipped in for, and Monsieur is -going to give him the most beautiful watch. Monsieur, of course, is to -be a member of this party. The Imp asked him, and he seemed delighted -with the idea. Under ordinary circumstances, I would consider it the -greatest lark, but as things are, it seems as if I could hardly endure -it--to sit there all day and look at Louis and think what he's soon -going to learn from Monsieur. - - -August 4, 1914. The worst has happened, the _very_ worst! It makes me -sick beyond words to read what I last wrote here--about having a -surprise-party, a _picnic_! It was a surprise-party right enough, but -the surprise was very much on our side, after all. We all started over -for Louis's this morning, just as we'd planned. We'd been up at six -o'clock, carrying the "feed" (as the Imp calls it) down to the -boat-house, and everything was quite ready. At the last minute Dave -couldn't go over with us, because Father had some urgent errand he -wanted him to attend to in Bridgeton, but he promised to join us later. - -I confess that we weren't any of us as hilarious over this party as we'd -ordinarily be, for we all feel a lot depressed about this thing. But we -hadn't a suspicion of what was ahead of us. - -We'd hoped to see Monsieur or Louis around outside, but no one was -anywhere in sight. So we knocked at the front door, and Louis came and -opened it. - -In all my life I'll never forget how that poor fellow looked. He was -_stricken_! I can't think of any other word that expresses it so well. -He didn't seem surprised to see us, but instead of inviting us inside, -said: - -"Come out on the Green and sit on our old bench for a few minutes, will -you? I've something to tell you." - -We followed him in dead silence, and we felt that something awful, must -have happened. - -"Have you seen the morning papers?" Louis asked, when we were seated. - -"No," I said. "What's the matter?" - -"_France has declared war!_" he answered. - -Somehow he didn't need to say another word. We knew the whole thing. It -had come at last. There wasn't one of us who could think of a word to -say, not even the Imp, though she's usually quick enough with a reply. -But this time she seemed struck dumb. - -After we'd all sat there for what seemed like six months, Louis said: - -"I've heard the whole story from Mon-- I mean from the marquis. I know -that you know it, too. He told me so. I understand that he didn't intend -to tell me to-day,--that you were going to give me a surprise-party for -my birthday. Thank you, girls, all the same. I--I--" - -He couldn't say any more just then, but sat staring away at nothing. - -"It was the news in the paper that changed it all," he went on at last. -"Germany has invaded French territory and violated the neutrality of -Belgium, so of course the war is inevitable. The marquis is much excited -and has to go back at once to offer his estates and his assistance to -the government. I shall go with him." - -He said all this in the strangest way, in a sort of dull, monotonous -voice, as if he'd just learned it by heart and hadn't the slightest -interest in it. It was the Imp who spoke first. - -"Louis," she said, very quietly, "were you sorry to hear about--about -that other matter?" - -He didn't answer for a minute, and just sat looking off into space -again. Finally he said, in the same monotonous voice: - -"It's _killing_ me!" - -"But, Louis," I found the courage to say, "it's really a wonderful -thing. You ought to be proud of it." - -"Proud of _what_?" he demanded fiercely. - -"Of--of being the descendant of a French king," I said. - -"I've been proud as Lucifer all my life to be an _American_," he -answered. "What are French kings to me? And I _am_ an American, too! Not -a thing he's said can make me anything else. I don't care if my ancestor -did come here from France. Every American's ancestors came from -somewhere else, if you go back far enough. That doesn't alter things." - -"Yes, that is perfectly true. You are just as much an American as ever," -I admitted, thinking of that side of it for the first time. "But if -that's so, I can't see what you're so down-hearted about." - -"What do you think it means to me to give up all my plans and ambitions -in life and go over to France and become a French nobleman by adoption; -to devote myself to every interest but the one I'm wrapped up in and -fitted for during all the rest of my days?" - -"But, Louis," began the Imp, "if you feel so--strongly about it, why do -you have to do it? Couldn't you persuade Monsieur to let you do -something else? He's simply devoted to you. Surely he'd be willing to -meet _your_ wishes, somehow." - -"You don't understand," answered Louis. "Can't you see that I'm under an -absolute _obligation_ to meet his wishes? I'd be an ungrateful brute, if -I did anything else. You must realize what his ancestor did for mine. I -wouldn't be in existence to-day, if it hadn't been for what the original -marquis did to help the--the dauphin to escape. Why, I'm also under a -tremendous obligation to the Mettots for the same reason. And then, -there's something else you don't know about that makes it even worse. I -haven't a cent in this world, nor ever have had, that hasn't been -supplied by Mon--by the marquis." - -"You had this farm, didn't you?" I interrupted, for Louis has always -told us that this farm was his, or at least would be his when he came of -age. That was all the Mettots had ever told him about his affairs. - -"Oh, yes; so I thought!" he answered bitterly. "But of course I didn't -know that my father had died deeply in debt, leaving this place -mortgaged to the hilt. I would never have owned a penny of it if the -marquis hadn't stepped in and redeemed it, paying every cent of the -expenses of my bringing up. Why, the very pocket-money I've had was his, -and I always supposed it was the proceeds from the sales of our -garden-truck. Oh, I'm tied hand and foot by the deepest of obligations! -There's nothing else to do. I'm helpless." - -We all were silent for a long time after that. I, for my part, couldn't -think of one thing more to say. Louis was resigned and quiet and utterly -hopeless. And to try and comfort him and put the best side on things was -a perfect farce. None of us attempted it. - -"When do you go?" I asked, presently. - -"In a week or so," he said. "As soon as things can be arranged. -Monsieur--I mean the marquis--has asked me to beg that we be excused -from the surprise-party, in view of what has happened. I don't know what -he means by that, but probably you do. He also wished me to explain to -you that you are at liberty to tell any one you wish that I am to go to -France to become his adopted son, but that the other secret you will -always kindly keep to yourselves." - -"Louis," said the Imp, "we were going to have a surprise-party for you -at the boat-house to-day because it was your birthday, but I guess the -surprise is on us. Anyhow, here's a little trifle we wanted to give you, -but we hadn't intended to present it in _this_ way. You'll understand, -though." - -She handed Louis the watch-fob, and he took it in a sort of dazed, -unseeing way. But he thanked us a lot, adding that Monsieur had given -him the watch after they had had their interview. - -"I'll never forget you," he said, "and you needn't think because I have -to go to France that I'm not going to see you again, either. I'm coming -back here as often as I can manage it, and I'll be the same old Louis. -You'll see!" This thought seemed to give him the only comfort he had. - -"But what about the Meadows?" asked Carol. - -"Oh, they're going, too, of course," Louis answered. "Their mission here -is over now. The marquis is going to close the house, but he's granted, -as a concession to me, that he'll keep it, and not sell it or even rent -it to any one else. There I can come back to it once in a while, and -live in the old way for a time. He's an awfully good sort, I will say, -and is only doing this because he sees I'm all broken up over things. -Well, I must go back to help him send off despatches and pack. It's a -hateful job. Come over and see Aunt Yvonne. She's upset over this, and -instead of feeling joyful, as I should suppose she would, is quite -miserable over something. I can't understand what it is, though." - -Louis went off directly across the Green. It was heartbreaking to watch -him. - -But the Imp says that one thing is certain. They evidently haven't told -Louis about those papers that can't be found. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE IMP MAKES A LAST DISCOVERY - - -A burning August sun shone down pitilessly on the parched brown grass -and dusty roads about Paradise Green. The great elms stood absolutely -motionless in the stifling air. Into this merciless atmosphere, quite -early in the morning of August 12, emerged three girls, bound for the -home of Louis Durant. - -"Isn't it awful!" moaned Carol, perspiration streaming down her face, as -they plodded on in the blazing sun. "This terrific heat has lasted a -week, and there isn't a sign of let-up yet!" - -"And to think that poor Miss Yvonne has to tear up the house and pack at -such a time as this!" echoed Sue. "She isn't a bit well, either. I'm -awfully glad she's letting us help her. I never supposed she would, but -she must be kind of desperate, with their servant gone. She's fine to -have let her go, though, for the servant said her son had to join the -army, and she might never see him again, if she didn't leave for France -at once." - -"Yes, it is great of Miss Yvonne to struggle through this alone," put in -the Imp, "but I still don't see why Monsieur didn't want her to get help -from the village, except that he didn't wish strangers to pry around and -ask questions at this time, I suppose." - -They reached the gate and turned into the yard. Monsieur was sitting -under a tree, reading a paper and striving to imagine that he was as -cool as possible in its shade. Louis was in the house, helping Miss -Yvonne. - -"Come in, girls!" he called through an open window. "We are precious -glad to see you. Can you help us pack these books?" - -The tone strove to be his usual, careless, care-free one, but it was -patently anything but that. Not one of the girls but realized the effort -he was making. - -They entered the room, donned dust-caps and aprons that they had -brought with them, and entered on the work with assumed zest. They were -in Miss Yvonne's room on the ground floor, and the dismantling process -had begun to be complete. The bed was taken down, the bookshelves -emptied and their contents piled on the floor, and the furniture was -shrouded in sacking. Little remained to be packed, except the contents -of a big closet built into one wall. Miss Yvonne was elsewhere, so the -young folks had the room to themselves. - -"Isn't the weather awful!" groaned Carol, for the second time in ten -minutes. - -"The news in the paper is worse!" commented Louis. - -"Oh, what is it?" chorused the girls. "None of us have had time to read -the paper to-day." - -"The Germans are demolishing Belgium. They've entered France at several -points and are bound straight for Calais and Paris. It seems as if -nothing could stop them. They're walking away with everything. They're -hideously prepared for this, and not one of the other nations is. It -makes my blood boil! Oh, if I could only _do_ something, instead of just -going over to France and watching the show! But I suppose Monsieur -wouldn't hear of it." - -"Louis, you mustn't get into this fight. You're too young!" exclaimed -Sue. - -"Yes, that's what he says," muttered Louis, viciously scrubbing a book -with a dust-cloth. "But I'm seventeen; and I don't agree with him. I've -lost all interest in life, anyhow. Why shouldn't I go in and smash a few -of the enemy's heads?" - -The three girls shuddered, but did not answer. - -"There!" cried the Imp, glad to change the subject. "I've finished these -books. Now what else is there to do here, Louis?" - -"Aunt Yvonne said that closet was to be emptied and all the things piled -on the floor." - -The Imp straightway dived into the closet, calling back: - -"I'll hand the things out, and you all put them where they are to go." - -She began hurling out packages and bundles in an endless stream, for it -seemed as if the closet had been used for years as a storage-place, and -that the contents had seldom been moved. - -"My, but there are a lot of them!" coughed the Imp, choking with dust. - -"Yes, Aunt Yvonne said she was rather ashamed of this closet," said -Louis. "She's used it as a catch-all for years, and most of these -bundles are things she never has any use for, yet won't under any -circumstances give or throw away." - -"We have the same kind of a closet at home," remarked Carol. "Mother -says she doesn't know how she'd get along without it,--I mean the kind -of place where you stow things away that you hardly expect to touch -again." - -"So have we," echoed Sue. - -They worked for a time in silence. At last the Imp, dusty and cobwebby, -tossed out a final bundle, with the remark: - -"That's the last, I guess, except some scraps of wrapping-paper and so -on. I'll just look among these to see that there's nothing more." - -They heard her grubbing about for a moment or two, and then came a -stifled exclamation. - -"What's the matter?" cried every one simultaneously. - -"Somebody bring a candle!" commanded the Imp. "There's something queer -here!" - -Louis rushed away to get one, and was back in a jiffy. - -"Here it is," he said, handing it in to the Imp. While she lit it the -three crowded into the doorway to see whatever was to be revealed. - -"It's this hole," explained the Imp, holding the candle to a space about -six inches in diameter, near the base of the wall. "It was back of a -pile of bundles, and I guess it must have been made by mice or rats, for -the gnawed bits are lying all around. It must be rather recent, too, for -it looks so. My hand slipped into it a moment ago, and the boarding came -loose as I was trying to get it out. I think it must be because it was -so old and rotten. Anyhow, it pulled away, and I just caught a glimpse -of something behind it that seemed strange." - -Louis crowded into the closet at this, and gave the board a wrench. It -fell away, disclosing a sight that made the four stare with surprise. - -"Why, it's a _fireplace_!" cried the Imp, poking her head in as Louis -pulled away another board. "A great, immense fireplace, even bigger than -the one in your living-room." - -It was nothing less. Each girl took a turn at poking her head into the -open space, and all were amazed at the breadth of the great -chimney-place, which still contained the andirons and curious old hooks -and cranes of bygone years. - -"I must tell the others!" cried Louis. "I'm sure they'll be interested -in this." And he rushed away to inform them. - -While he was gone, the Imp suddenly emerged from the closet in great -excitement. - -"I have an idea," she whispered to the others. "I may be crazy, but I -believe we're on the track of the hiding-place of those papers. Don't -you remember what Monsieur said about a _chimney_?" - -The two girls looked startled. Before they could discuss the matter, -however, back came Louis with Monsieur and the Meadows couple behind -him. - -"It's perfectly clear to me," Louis was explaining to them, "that at -some time or other, pretty far back, some one had the great 'long -kitchen' in this house made into two rooms, and the original walls and -fireplace were entirely boarded-up and concealed. I always thought it -rather strange that this house, which is exactly the same build and -design as the old Caswell place, for instance, or a dozen others around -here, should be entirely without that immense 'long kitchen,' as they -call it, that all the rest have. You know it's the original kitchen of -the former New Englanders. They used it as kitchen and dining-room and -everything. The fireplace is the biggest in the house, for often they -would have an ox drag into the room a great log that would entirely fill -the chimney-place. Somebody has evidently had that room made into two -smaller ones, with no fireplace at all. Queer thing to do. I wonder why -they did it?" - -In his interest in this explanation, Louis had not appeared to notice -the evident excitement of Monsieur and old John Meadows and Miss Yvonne. -Now he was thunderstruck when Monsieur asked him if it was possible to -pull down the boarding around the fireplace. - -"Why, of course," exclaimed Louis, much astonished. "I have some tools I -could use, and it wouldn't take much strength, but what's the use of -demolishing it now? It will make an awful mess, and there probably isn't -much beyond what we've already seen, anyhow. It would be a good thing, -perhaps, to have this fine old room restored while we're away, but I -don't see any use in beginning it now." - -The marquis, trembling so that he was forced to support himself by -leaning on a packing-case, spoke with more decision than his hearers had -ever heard before: - -"Tear down the woodwork, Louis. It is my wish. There may be an -excellent reason." Without further protest, Louis went to work. - -The noontide sun grew hotter and hotter, but the company in that -curiously littered room did not notice it. Not a word was spoken as they -watched Louis, but a breathless suspense gripped them all,--all, that -is, except Louis. To him it was only a useless whim of Monsieur's that -he was obeying, and he was secretly rather irritated. He found, during -the course of his labor, that the chimney-place ran clear behind the -walls into the next room, which was that of old Mr. Meadows, but even -this did not daunt the marquis. - -"Tear down the wall between, if you can. Knock it down, break it down, -somehow. I do not care, so long as we free the chimney!" - -Before Louis was finished, the place looked as if it had suddenly been -subjected to an air-raid and earthquake combined, but no one cared. By -that time even Louis had begun to feel a vague suspicion that they were -on the track of something. When the fireplace at last stood free amid -the surrounding debris, he stepped aside, remarking: - -"There! That's about all I can do, I think. That was a clever piece of -work--the way this other room has been entirely concealed. Not one of us -has ever suspected that it was here, though I suppose if we'd been any -sort of architects, we might have done so." - -"Oh, here are the old Dutch ovens!" cried the Imp, rushing forward to -examine the curious little iron doorways in the sides of the -chimney-place. "I saw the same thing in the Caswell house. They used to -bake bread in those, when the chimney became good and hot." - -She pulled open one of them and thrust in her hand. - -"Gracious! There's something in here!" she almost shouted, hauling out a -small iron box covered with the rust and dust and cobwebs of what must -have been a century in hiding. - -"Give it to me! Give it to me!" cried old John Meadows, striding -forward and fairly snatching it from her grasp. "It is the one, the very -one my grandfather spoke of, and in the _chimney_, just as I have always -thought he said." - -With tears of excitement in his eyes, he took the box and placed it in -the hands of the marquis. Miss Yvonne, sobbing quietly in the intensity -of her relief, sat down on a small packing-case and hid her face in her -hands. The three girls, understanding something of this strange -discovery, stood by, breathless in their excitement and interest. Only -Louis, to whom the whole proceeding was a dark mystery, stared at them -all, open-mouthed and questioning. - -Monsieur took the box and placed it in Louis's hands. - -"Can you open it for us?" he asked. "I suppose we might find the key, if -we hunted long enough, but I cannot wait for that. Open it without a -key, if that is possible." - -"I suppose I could get it open with an ax," remarked Louis, examining -the box carefully, "or even with a hammer and chisel, if you're not -afraid that the contents may be hurt." - -"It will not harm it, I am sure," replied Monsieur, and Louis brought -the necessary tools. - -It took a long while to break the lock, for the workmanship was stout -and strong. But at last this was accomplished, and Louis handed the box -to Monsieur for further investigation. They all pressed around him -eagerly, as he opened the lid. It contained nothing but a paper, folded, -tied, and sealed--a paper so faded, stained, and tender that they -scarcely dared touch it, lest it fall apart. Monsieur took it out with -extreme care, broke the seal, and handed the unread document to Louis. - -"Read it," he said. "It concerns you, and you alone. It is your right to -have the first reading of it. It is a sacred message, transmitted to you -through the years by your great-grandfather, the lost dauphin." - -"Shall I read it aloud?" inquired Louis, in a voice of hushed awe. - -"If it pleases you to do so," replied the marquis. - -[Illustration: Louis began to read aloud, stopping often to decipher a -word] - -Louis cleared his throat nervously, and began to read aloud in French, -stopping often to decipher a word that was blurred by the stains of -time. As the two girls, Carol and Sue, could understand little or -nothing of what he read, they could only watch curiously the expression -on the faces of the other auditors. But before Louis had read far, that -expression became singularly different on each of those five eager -countenances. Miss Yvonne leaned forward from her packing-box, her eyes -startled and unbelieving. Old John Meadows ruffled his white hair -distractedly with his hands and muttered, "What? what?" in English, and -other expressions in French. The Imp's big blue eyes fairly danced with -amazement, and pleased amazement, at that. Monsieur stood listening, his -hands clenched, his head thrust forward, his eagle-like gaze intent, -unbelieving, stricken. Only Louis read on stolidly, as if the content -had not yet registered itself on his mind. - -Suddenly he threw down the paper and shouted, "Hurrah! hurrah!" and -then more solemnly, "Oh, thank God! I'm so glad." - -"What is it? what is it?" cried Sue and Carol, simultaneously. "_Please_ -tell us! We haven't understood a word of it." - -"You poor things!" he exclaimed gaily. "Listen! I'll translate it for -you. It's very short." And he went on to translate from the ancient -paper as follows: - - - I who write this am the Dauphin of France, who should have been - Louis XVII. I escaped from the Temple Tower in my tenth year by - means which I shall not attempt to explain here. All that is known - to others who could make it public to the world if I so wished. I - do not, however, wish it. My only desire is to remain forever - hidden. Should there, however, arise at any future time a cause or - reason for making descendants of mine aware of the truth of their - real ancestry, I wish to make this statement. _I have no - descendants._ The boy whom Jean Mettot supposes to be my son is no - flesh-and-blood heir of mine. The boy is the son of my wife by her - former husband. He was a young child, less than two years old, when - I married her, and so fond did I become of him that I felt no - difference and wished to feel no more difference than if he were - truly my own. But no Bourbon blood runs in his veins, praise God, - and heirs of his may never inherit the throne of France. I am ill - and weak, when writing this, and I feel that death is not far away. - Only Jean Mettot knows the hiding-place I have designed for this - document. I pray God there may never be need to disclose it. - - LOUIS CHARLES. - - -"But--but," stammered Sue, when Louis had finished, "what does this -mean?" - -"It means," cried Louis, "that I haven't a drop of Bourbon blood in me! -It means that I'm a plain, _American_ boy, after all!" - -He threw his cap into the air exultantly and shouted another hurrah. - - -Strangely enough, it was Sue who first gave a thought to the marquis. -Glancing suddenly toward him, she exclaimed in a low voice: - -"O Monsieur!" - -He was still standing in the same tense attitude, his expression dazed -and unbelieving. Not one of them but expected that this news, so happy -to Louis, so tragic to him, might cause an attack, possibly a fatal one, -of his physical ailment. But the marquis was made of sterner stuff than -they knew. With a sudden squaring of his shoulders, he walked over to -the window and stood staring out, his back toward them all, his hands -clenched behind him. - -So long did he remain thus, that the tense silence became almost -unbearable. It was Louis at last, with his head up and the kindest -expression the girls had ever seen in his eyes, who walked over to -Monsieur and laid a hand on his shoulder. - -"Will you forgive me, sir," he said very quietly, "for my beastly -expressions of joy? I ought to have realized what a blow this news would -be to you,--whatever it may mean to me." - -The marquis turned and looked deep into his eyes. - -"My boy," he spoke in a husky voice, "you are worthy to be the lineal -descendant of a king, even if fate has willed that you are not." - -He could say no more at that moment, and Louis went on: - -"I want you to know I feel, sir, that my obligation to you remains -precisely the same, even though conditions are changed. I owe you -everything I have. You undoubtedly will no longer contemplate taking me -for your adopted son. There isn't the slightest reason for it now. But I -want to give you and the country you love the very best that is in me. I -am an American of the Americans, and I'm prouder of it than ever. But I -want to 'do my bit' for France and for you. Will you allow me, sir, to -go with you to France and join the French Flying Corps? It is the only -way that I can repay you." - -The marquis was still gazing straight into the boy's eyes. Now he laid -both hands on his shoulders. - -"You shall have your wish, my boy," he said, still huskily. "I now see -that I should never have striven to restrain you. But, king or no king, -an adopted son of mine you shall be, if you yourself will consent to it. -I love you for yourself. What matters any other reason? But, before God, -I promise you that in no way will I put the slightest obstacle in the -path you have chosen for yourself. France will yet be as proud of you -as I am. Louis Charles, will you be my son?" - -"I never knew any parents," answered Louis, in a shaky, unsteady voice, -"and I've--I've missed them horribly. Will you be--my father?" - -When the girls looked around, they found that old Mr. Meadows and his -daughter had vanished from the room. At Sue's beckoning finger, the -three girls tiptoed out after them. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE END OF THE JOURNAL - - -September 25, 1914. It's so long since I've written in this journal that -I'm quite discouraged about it. Not a single entry have I made since -that wonderful day over at Louis's when they found the document. Well, -there hasn't been much to write about, and we've all felt lonely and -blue and _apprehensive_ (that's the only word I can think of to express -it) ever since Louis sailed for France. - -They did not get away quite as soon as they had expected. Changed -conditions and sailing dates delayed them a week or more longer than the -original plan. I think it was at least the twentieth of August before -they left for New York and their steamer. - -Oh, it is such a desolate place now, across the Green, since they went -away,--all shut up and dark and lonely! But Monsieur has left the key -with us, and asked us to go through it once in a while to see that -everything was all right. In the spring he intends to have an architect -come and restore the "long kitchen" to exactly its former appearance, -and to put all the rest of the house in good shape. He says that, since -Louis wishes it so much, he shall come back here whenever there is an -opportunity, that is, whenever his duties will permit, and that he can -live here as long as he likes. That is glorious news. We are all so -happy about it, and Louis was just wild with joy. - -But _will_ he come back? That is the awful question. Aviation is -dangerous enough, even here in a peaceful country. What earthly chance -of life has one over there in the midst of this horrible war? It makes -me shudder every time I think of it, and I don't dare think of it much. -I have awful nightmares about it every night. - -The Imp has taken to reading up everything she can find on the subject, -and she insists on telling us hair-raising tales about the dangers and -accidents that happen to military aviators. I asked her once if it -didn't simply make her sick to think of such things in connection with -Louis, but she only said: - -"Oh, no! Louis's not going to have things like that happen to _him_. -He's different!" I only wish I had her faith. - -Louis's departure with the marquis was a nine-days' wonder here, of -course. Everybody talked about it incessantly for a while, speculating -at the greatest length on why in the world a French nobleman should do -such an eccentric thing. But naturally, no one except we three girls -ever guessed the truth, or ever will. For it was the marquis's wish -that, even as things turned out, the truth about the dauphin should -never be made public. - -We have all gone back to school, and are plodding along in the same -prosaic way. The only thing we're doing that really interests us is to -knit an outfit for Louis--a sweater, a helmet, some wristlets, and -socks. He said before he left that he'd probably need them, and we -promised to make them as quickly as possible. - - -September 28. We had a letter from Louis to-day,--the first since he -left. Of course it caused the wildest excitement. He said they had a -safe voyage across, and he wasn't seasick a minute, though the marquis -and old Mr. Meadows were very ill. Louis said that they went straight to -Paris, and there the marquis used his influence and had him enlisted in -the French Air Service. In a few days Louis was notified to report for -duty at the Hotel des Invalides. Here he went through his physical -examination, passed it, and then was sent to Dijon to get his outfit, -which is provided by the government. After going through all that, he -was sent to Pau (we've looked up these places in the Atlas, and know -exactly where they are!) to become a member of the flying-school. - -Louis had been there only a week when he wrote this letter, but he says -that, owing to the hard study he put in on Page Calvin's machine, he's -almost perfect in the mechanical parts,--the engine and steering,--and -instead of having to spend several weeks at that, he can soon begin the -actual flying. Of course I don't understand all his technical talk, but -one thing is easy to see--he's completely and absolutely _happy_. He -says he'll write again when he's actually "been up," but that he has -hardly a moment to himself during the day, and at night he's so tired -that he almost falls asleep on the way to bed. The French course must be -very strict and exacting. - - -November 22, 1914. I didn't suppose it would be so long before I'd write -here again, but there's generally nothing much to write. Paradise Green -has returned to its old, sleepy nonentity of a place since Louis went -away. Only one thing has stirred the quiet surface of our family. Dave -has been extremely morose and uneasy ever since Louis's departure, and -yesterday he launched a thunderbolt in our midst by asking Father if he -could go off to "the front" and enlist in the French army. Father was -very quiet about it, but he refused absolutely. Then Dave broke down and -blubbered like a baby. He said he wanted to do something to help in -this beastly mess, and that he thought America was "rotten" not to get -into it, too. But Father said: - -"If America ever does get into it, Dave, you'll go with my full -permission,--but not till then!" So Dave had to be content with that. - -We heard from Louis to-day,--the most _wonderful_ letter! Two weeks ago -he finished his course in aviation and was ordered to duty at the front. -So off he went (he wasn't allowed to tell us where the "front" was) and -has been there ever since, scouting over the enemy's lines in a biplane -with the _chef pilote_, to familiarize himself with conditions. He will -soon be actively engaged with the enemy. It makes me sick and cold to -think of it. Will we ever see Louis alive again, walking about Paradise -Green in the old way? I have simply made up my mind that it is not -possible,--that if it ever happens, it will be nothing short of a -_miracle_. - -On looking back in this journal, I find that I have kept it exactly one -year. I have fulfilled my promise to Miss Cullingford, and I believe, -if she could only read it, she'd find it a very interesting "supplement -to history." But of course she never will read it. That would be -breaking my promise to the marquis. I do not think I will write in it -any more. The year is over, and Louis has gone--and may never come back -any more. - - -April 10, 1917. To-day, in an old drawer of my desk, locked away and -almost completely forgotten by me, I found this journal that I kept -three long years ago. How long, how _very_ long they seem now! I was -sixteen then, and still in high school. I am nineteen--nearly -twenty--now, and have been a year in college. At present I am home for -the Easter vacation, back in little Paradise Green, and in rummaging -through my desk I found this journal. The idea has come to me to add one -more entry, because it will make the story complete. - -When I last wrote here, I was positively certain that Louis would die, -that he would be killed in some terrible battle or have some accident -to his aeroplane. Nothing of the sort has occurred, marvelous as it may -seem. Yes, the miracle has happened, and Louis, our same old Louis, is -back in his home on Paradise Green! What is more, the Meadows, or -Mettots, as I now call them, are back here with him, just as in the old -days. It's too wonderful for words! - -But the marquis is not here. He never will be here any more, for he died -a year ago, leaving his title and what little remains of his estate to -Louis. The greater part of it has been turned over to the French -Government. - -But Louis! Oh, that has been the wonderful part of the story! He has -been known for two years as one of the most daring and successful -members of the French Aviation Corps, with a record of captured enemy -machines and successful engagements to be proud of. He has been -decorated by the French Government and honored in a dozen ways, and has -never been wounded or injured till just lately. - -In an engagement at Eaucourt l'Abbaye last October, toward the finish of -the great Somme battle, he was wounded in the side, but managed to land -his machine safely. The wound was not serious in itself, but his old -enemy, blood-poisoning, set in, and for a while it was nip-and-tuck -whether he could recover. But Louis says his constitution is "sound -American," and after a long siege he was pronounced out of danger and -recovered. He has been compelled by his commanding officer, however, to -take a long leave of absence, to recover complete health before he -returns to the front. - -So he came back to Paradise Green, to take up life, as he says, where he -left it. During this Easter vacation we four have been rollicking -around, just as we used to when we were children and hadn't a care on -our minds. Carol is as grown-up as I am, and is attending college with -me. The Imp is a tall, lanky creature now, nearly through high school, -and at times can be quite as exasperating as ever. They say she's cut -out for a brilliant future, but just at present her whole mind is -concentrated on becoming a Red Cross nurse, so that she can go off to -"the front" and get in the thick of it. Mother and Father won't stand -for it, of course, but trust the Imp to get her way--somehow. - -And that brings me to another thing. America has at last entered the -war. We can scarcely believe it yet. Louis is jubilant, and Dave -promptly claimed the promise that Father made him three years ago. -Father has consented, as he said he would, but is feeling pretty grave -about it. And the look in Mother's eyes is enough to keep Dave from -effervescing too openly. I dare not think very far into the future, but -for the immediate present we all are trying to be happy. - -I had almost decided to destroy this journal, but something Louis told -us has made me change my mind. He said that before Monsieur (I cannot -get out of the habit of calling him that!) passed away, he told Louis -that he had changed his mind about keeping secret any longer the story -of Louis's descent. He said that he believed the dauphin would have been -filled with pride at the wonderful attainments and service to France of -the descendant of his own adopted son, and would glory in the world's -knowledge of his connection with him. So Louis said that, although he -wasn't ever going to say anything about it himself, he didn't specially -care if the rest of us did. The matter seemed of little importance to -him, anyhow. He said that probably no one would believe it, anyway, as -there were too many stories already concerning the escape and claims of -the "lost dauphin." - -Probably they won't, and I wouldn't blame them, for it does seem -well-nigh incredible. However that may be, I've changed my mind about -this journal. I'm going to show it to Miss Cullingford. She and I have -always been great friends, even after I left high school, and I want her -to read for herself the whole history of this wonderful thing that -happened on little, out-of-the-way Paradise Green. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE SIDES OF PARADISE GREEN*** - - -******* This file should be named 52946.txt or 52946.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/2/9/4/52946 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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