It took considerable finesse on Wally's part to get this explained and to get the young woman out of the room. "One more remark from you, like that last one, and I will engage the next hatchet-face that appears," he thundered. "What is a hatchet-face?" she asked, with interest. The other girl was tall, and undeniably plain. She was deeply tanned by the sun. She looked athletic, boyish in fact. She had a nice voice, and clear grey eyes. She met Isabelle's inspection with a grin. The child slid off her chair and went over to her. "What's your name?" she asked. "Ann. Ann Barnes." "Can you swim?" "Yes," smiled the girl. Isabelle took her hand. "I'll take you," she said. The girl stared at Wally, who, so far, had made no explanation. "Is she your child?" she inquired. "Yes." "Is her mother dead?" "No, Max is my mother," explained the youngster. "You see," said Wally, "Isabelle is a little devil. You might as well know the worst at once. She's got no manners at all, and she's spoiled to death." "Wally, you don't have to tell everything you know," quoted Isabelle, sharply. "Upon my word!" said Miss Barnes. "How old is she?" "She's just had her fourth birthday." "But she needs a nurse, not a governess." "I won't have a nurse. I want you." "She's had a lot of women, mostly old ones. I told Mrs. Bryce I thought she ought to have a young woman with her, and she told me that if I knew so much about it, I could get her a governess myself." "I see," said Miss Barnes; "and just what do you want her governess to do?" "Ride and swim with her, and keep her out of mischief. I suppose you would teach her something--letters and counting, and all that?" "A governess usually does," she smiled. "You would have full charge of her. We live in the country from April till Thanksgiving, and in town the rest of the time." "Come on, Ann, let's go; I'm tired," interrupted Isabelle. "But you aren't letting this baby decide who is to take care of her?" she protested. "I thought it was better. She gets rid of one a month, so in the end she does decide." "But it's so absurd." "We're--we're an absurd family," he admitted, gravely. "Don't talk, Wally; come on." "What does she call you?" Miss Barnes inquired. "Wally. My name is Walter, but every one calls me Wally. She calls her mother Max. We try to break her of it, but we can't." Miss Barnes shook her head. "I want to be a governess, you know, not a nurse." Isabelle realized that a crisis was at hand. "Sometimes I'm nice, aren't I, Wally?" she appealed. Miss Barnes could not have told why, but for the first time this abnormal, prissy child, with her self-assurance, and her impertinence, caught at her sympathies. Wally saw that she wavered.