Louis said that was all right; he needn't know of it. The picture would be all fixed up long before Monsieur came back. And even Miss Yvonne needn't hear of it, for he'd see that it was in place before she came home to-day. This seemed to calm Mr. Meadows somewhat, and he finally consented to have it so. But all the evening he kept muttering, "An evil omen!" to himself, and acted uneasy. Louis says he doesn't see any sense in it. I can't say that I do either, even with what I know, and yet it does seem sort of queer.
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."