Of course Max and Wally had no idea of her associations; that was Miss Watts' business. Isabelle played with the children of the right set, which was all that really mattered. That she swaggered and boasted and whistled about the house, these were annoying details, but she had always been a pest. Wally protested once against her hoydenish manners. "You talk like a jockey, Isabelle. You haven't a grain of feminine charm." "Feminine charm! Ha!" snorted his daughter, with scorn. "You'd better try to acquire a little. You'll need it," he warned her. "Need it for what?" "Need it for your business." "What is my business?" "Getting married." She stared at him with an angry flush mounting her face. She turned and mounted the stairs, leaning over to shout as she went, with unmistakable emphasis: "When you've bats in your belfry that flut, When your _comprenez-vous_ line is cut, When there's nobody home In the top of your dome, Then, your head's not a head; it's a nut!" Wally swore gently, and gave it up. Isabelle's life seemed to run in a series of crises. It was always mounting toward or descending from a climax. The present summer of her fourteenth year was no exception. The historic American scenes were still highly popular, but Isabelle's creative spirit was not yet satisfied. She was preparing the episode of John Smith and Pocahontas, to be played by Herbert Hunter and herself as principals, when it occurred to her that the scene ought to be played, by night, in the woods. She proposed it to Herbert but he scoffed at it. They never could manage. How could they get away at night? But Isabelle had it all planned. Her idea was to pick out the spot in the woods, put up the tepees, collect the firewood, lay in supplies, and get everything ready in advance. Saturday night would be the best one for the encampment, because their parents always dined and danced at the club that night, so the coast would be clear so far as they were concerned. "It isn't parents, it's servants that will get in our way," objected Herbert. "If you _think_ how to get by them, Herbert, you can," urged the temptress. "How? Just tell me how I can get past old Mademoiselle when she sits in the hall outside my door?" "Tell her you forgot something downstairs, and then run out." "Fat chance! She'd give the alarm and they'd all come on the jump." "Well, if _I_ can get out, I should think _you_ could," she taunted him. "How'd we get back in? Suppose parents got back before we did." Her inspiration flared like a torch. "We'd sleep in the tents all night." "Gee!" said Herbert. This was sheer daring. It captured his imagination. He decided to submit it to the others. A council was called. They in turn were struck dumb by the idea that they should spend a night in the woods, untrammelled by authority.