suppose every one has to have some great trial in life, and the Imp is certainly the chief one for Carol and me. Lately she has been more than usually infuriating. Every afternoon during the past month she has inquired of us, "Have you written in your journals to-day, my dears? If not, run and do so at once."

When she first began to say that, I made the mistake of asking her how she knew I was keeping a journal. She retorted:

"Oh, that's easy. I found out that Cad was, so of course I knew you were up to the same trick. You're as like each other as two penny hat-pins."

All I could think of to answer was:

"Well, I don't see that it is any one's affair but our own, if we are keeping them."

To this she returned:

"Who said it was?"

"You did," I retorted, "and I'll be obliged to you not to take it upon yourself to remind us about writing in them."

All she replied to this was:

"Louis's folks got another cablegram this morning. You'd better put that in."

Then she walked off and wouldn't say another word. That's just exactly like her. She's bound to light on the very thing you'd rather she didn't know about. And she always seems to have inside information about something you'd give your head to know about and never seem to get hold of. How she knew about the cablegram, I can't think, unless she saw the messenger-boy come up with it and questioned him afterward.

We've never said a word to Louis about the queer thing Dave told us he saw on that rainy night nearly a month ago. At first I wanted to, but Carol said that it would look as if we had been spying on them, and, in thinking it over, I agreed with her. Another thing, I felt sure that if he wanted us to know, or thought we ought to know, he'd tell us himself and explain what it was all about. But he never has, so either he thinks we oughtn't to know, or his folks have warned him not to speak of it. I'm quite certain it must be the latter, because several times he has almost been on the point of speaking of something and suddenly stopped short, as if he remembered he oughtn't to. Dave, of course, has been as mum as an oyster ever 

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