"No, I'm a patriot. Down at Bermuda I met a girl I knew at school, Agnes Pollock. She told me about being patriotic, and how she wrote cheerful letters to soldiers in the trenches. So I borrowed two from her, Jean and Edouard. I wrote them nice motherly letters, about keeping their feet dry----" Wally burst into laughter, but Mrs. Bryce hushed him with a violent gesture. "They called me '_Ma chere marraine_,' and wrote long letters back. It was splendid practice for my French," she added. "But this man wouldn't be wanting to marry his '_chere marraine_'," challenged Mrs. Bryce. "No. He wrote rather warm letters from the first, but Agnes and I decided that he had a warm, appreciative nature." "Little fools! Then what?" "I wrote a very cooling letter, but it didn't work. He was worse than ever; he said he knew I was beautiful and young; that he loved me madly--wanted to ask Wally for my hand in marriage, and a lot of stuff like that." "And you accepted him?--this man you've never seen?" "Of course I didn't accept him. I told him that I was old; that I didn't love him; that Wally was dead, so he couldn't address him; and that that was my last letter." Again Wally laughed. "But Isabelle, why didn't you tell me something of all this?" begged Miss Watts. "Why should I boast of doing my bit?" "Rubbish!" exploded her mother. "You've got yourself into a nice scrape. How do we know what she said in these letters?" she asked Wally. "But I've told you what I said." "You didn't keep copies of them, did you?" asked Wally. "No, of course not." "Have you got his letters?" from her mother. "Yes, in my trunk." "There's nothing to be done until we see them," said Mrs. Bryce, impatiently. "They are private letters, and I must say . . ." began Isabelle, hotly. "You be quiet," ordered her mother, angrily. "I can't see that you were much use, Miss Watts." "Mrs. Bryce, I had no idea that this was going on. I knew she wrote letters, but I supposed they were to you or to school friends. I did not feel it necessary to censor her mail." "You ought to know her well enough by now to know that when she seems to be behaving she is doing her worst." Mrs. Bryce summoned a maid and ordered Isabelle's trunk to be reported the moment it arrived. While they waited Mrs. Bryce interrogated Miss Watts as to whom Isabelle had met in Bermuda. Isabelle was at the window, gazing from behind the curtain at her admirer, but she noticed that Captain O'Leary's name was merely mentioned in a list of the English officers they had met. "Look here, Isabelle, how about Edouard?" whispered Wally, at her elbow. "Does he think he is engaged to you, too?" She felt the laugh behind his words, so she answered gravely: "No, Wally, Edouard was a dutiful son." He chuckled. Max turned at the sound. "Don't encourage her, Wally." "I can't. It's too late." "Don't worry. I disinherited them both," Isabelle assured him.