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.