that I had far other things to be proud of, but I noticed that he didn't say what. So I just faced him.

"'Look here,' I said. 'Just tell me one thing, like a man, won't you? What are you here for, anyway? Am I the descendant of some duke or marquis or that sort of thing, and are you here to try to get me to go back to France and be one myself?' You see, what Carol said the other day sort of stuck in my crop, and that boat business rather confirmed it. I went on to say to him, 'Because if that's so, you needn't bother. I won't go!'

"He didn't say a word for a minute or two. He just stood staring at me as if he'd never seen me before. Then he said, very quietly:

"'No, Monsieur. You are quite mistaken. It is something vastly different, and I cannot explain it now. You must be content to wait. But, be assured, it will both astonish and delight you when it is disclosed.' And with that he walked off and took to his bed again, I guess, for I haven't seen him since. But I've been 'hot under the collar' ever since at the damage he did to my boat."

"Well, all that is mighty strange," I said, another idea suddenly dawning on me. "He doesn't seem to want you to do any work. Was that why he objected to you shoveling snow yesterday?"

"The very thing," replied Louis. "I was astonished when he said to me, 'Where is that Meadows and his servant? Why are you required to do this menial work?' I tried to explain to him that I liked it and was doing it for exercise, but he simply couldn't understand. He kept exclaiming, 'It is not fitting!' till I got so disgusted that I gave it up. If this sort of thing keeps up, I'll run away to sea or do something desperate. I declare I will!"

"Are you glad, Louis, that you're not a duke or a marquis or anything like that?" I asked. "I should think you'd have thought it fine."

"I'd simply detest it, Sue," he answered. "I don't want to be anything but an American citizen--ever! But if this mystery business doesn't clear up soon, I'll be a raving lunatic."

Well, I'm disappointed myself to have Carol's nice theory all knocked to pieces, for it would have been so romantic and unusual. But if it isn't that, what on earth _can_ it be?

And _how_ much does that wretched little Imp know?

CHAPTER V

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