"We can't go yet, the nurses and chauffeurs haven't come," Tommy protested. "I'd like to hear her yell when she's licked." "Our man will take you all home in the big station wagon, so get on your hats," Wally ordered. Fifteen minutes later the smallest child was packed in, with one of the maids in command, and the motor slid off down the drive, leaving Wally on the door step. "Little beasts!" he remarked, feelingly. In the hall he met Miss Wilder, still bearing marks of the late excitement. "I have put Isabelle to bed, Mr. Bryce. Mrs. Bryce says that you are to prescribe her punishment." Wally looked his misery. "I don't want to punish her. Can't you manage it alone?" he said. "No, I cannot. Isabelle needs the authority of her parents now and then to back me up," said Miss Wilder, severely. "Well, I'll have a talk with her." "I think a severe spanking is what she needs." "What do ye suppose ever put such an idea in her head?" "You never know what she is going to do. She asked me about barbarians when I was trying to induce her to get dressed for the party. I told her some facts, just to occupy her mind." "It occupied her mind all right," laughed Wally, who left Miss Wilder with the idea that he thought the joke was at her expense. She determined to give notice at once, and leave at the end of her month. Wally went upstairs and turned his unaccustomed feet into the nursery. He hesitated before he opened the door, but no sounds of repentant sobs met his ear, so he went in. Isabelle, the picture of alert interest, sat up in bed and eyed him. "Have you come to punish me?" she asked. "Something like that." "Go ahead," said she. He sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at her. Max was right; she was no prize beauty, with her baby face like an old woman's, with her nondescript features, her short brown hair. But her eyes were disturbing--big dusky, wise eyes, with no effect of childishness. "Look here, Isabelle, why do you act like this?" That was regular parent-talk, so she made no answer. "Here you are, four years old, and you can't behave at your own party," he continued. "I hate parties." "Well, but you have to have parties." "Why?" "Oh, all children do." "Nasty things! I hate 'em all, except Patsy." "Hate those nice little girls?" "Yes!"--hotly. "And those handsome boys?" "Yes. They're ugly. Patsy is handsome." "Why are you so crazy about this Patsy?" "Because he always does what I say." Wally stifled a smile. "But don't you know you mustn't take off your clothes before mixed company?" "But we were playing barbarian." "Well, you shouldn't play that kind of game." "Why not?" "Because----" He floundered. "Now, look here, you must never take off your clothes again." "Not when I go to bed?"--with interest. "I mean before people." "Not before Miss Wilder, or Mary?" "Don't be stupid," he exploded. "You know what I mean--before boys and girls." "Why not?"